Job 3:11–26

^11–19“Why didn’t I die at birth,

my first breath out of the womb my last?

Why were there arms to rock me,

and breasts for me to drink from?

I could be resting in peace right now,

asleep forever, feeling no pain,

In the company of kings and statesmen

in their royal ruins,

Or with princes resplendent

in their gold and silver tombs.

Why wasn’t I stillborn and buried

with all the babies who never saw light,

Where the wicked no longer trouble anyone

and bone-weary people get a long-deserved rest?

Prisoners sleep undisturbed,

never again to wake up to the bark of the guards.

The small and the great are equals in that place,

and slaves are free from their masters.

^20–23“Why does God bother giving light to the miserable,

why bother keeping bitter people alive,

Those who want in the worst way to die, and can’t,

who can’t imagine anything better than death,

Who count the day of their death and burial

the happiest day of their life?

What’s the point of life when it doesn’t make sense,

when God blocks all the roads to meaning?

^24–26“Instead of bread I get groans for my supper,

then leave the table and vomit my anguish.

The worst of my fears has come true,

what I’ve dreaded most has happened.

My repose is shattered, my peace destroyed.

No rest for me, ever—death has invaded life.”