‘Job’s Sister’

When you are asked to do something for the Lord, you do it. For He does not take NO for an answer. Those who know this, know the truth.

Note: What you see in the photograph that accompanies this work was taken October 15. He has sent me many crosses proving to me that what you see in these photographs are sent from Him. It is not for me to make you believe or understand. I’m to deliver the message. Your judgement of me is what He is expecting. That’s your mark. You have to answer to that. Not me.

 Job's Sister
 
I weighed out the words
on my heart
I cry and despise my life
I've given all–
to the light
–forgot about everything
sit quietly and write
day after day
year after year
as everyone I love
disappeared
 
alone...banished
I too, beg:
 
what have I done?
show me so I can repent

 
nothing...
but more to write
more work to be done
as lonely consumes me
waiting impatiently
for a love promised to me
work, work, work
as lines cover my face
moving from place to place
writing as in a race
–with no home to trace
 
on and on it goes
every word doesn't escape
Your† eyes
every move I make
You† scrutinize
as I work, work, work
through sleepless nights
missing all the day's light
for a promise
that's never in sight
 
all hate me in despise
I'm left with empty nights
in silence...I'm condemned
talking to the air
at empty walls–
I stare
 
leave me alone!...I yell
then You† fill me up–
a given bone
to do Your† work
then I'm brought back down
crying and complaining
wondering what wrong I've done
to suffer so deep
as everyone who used me
gets to see happy days
I'm torn, stripped of all joy
like a played-out toy
on it...where everyone spits
 
I'd rather this body quit
me...live as the spirits
who feel nothing
but see everything
for all I've worked for
gone
with no place
to call home
nor anyone to call
my own
–just emptiness
and work, work, work
with no joy or happy
left in my heart
 

(October 24, 2019)—I wrote ‘Job’s Sister’ on October 19th. I wasn’t going to post it, but it goes with what was written today...’Rebuke Me’. I don’t think I need to explain what these Scriptures say or what God was revealing to me. It’s not for me to say. He thinks you are smart enough to get it.

Curses Come From AnguishThen Job replied: ‘If only my anguish could be weighed and all my misery be placed on the scales! It would surely outweigh the sand of the seas―no wonder my words have been impetuous. The arrows of the Almighty are in me, my spirit drinks in their poison; God’s terrors are marshaled against me. Does a wild donkey bray when it has grass, or an ox bellow when it has fodder? Is tasteless food eaten without salt, or is there flavor in the white of an egg? I refuse to touch it; such food makes me ill.—Job 6:1-7 (Job is Speaking)

Fear of Sinning in Pain—Oh, that I might have my request, that God would grant what I hope for, that God would be willing to crush me, to let loose His hand and cut me off! Then I would still have this consolation—my joy in unrelenting pain—that I had not denied the words of the Holy One. What strength do I have, that I should still hope? What prospects, that I should be patient? Do I have the strength of stone? Is my flesh bronze? Do I have any power to help myself, now that success has been driven from me?―Job 6:8-13 (Job is Speaking)

Cannot Depend on FriendsA despairing man should have the devotion of his friends, even though he forsakes the fear of the Almighty. But my brothers are as undependable as intermittent streams, as the streams that overflow when darkened by thawing ice and swollen with melting snow, but that cease to flow in the dry season, and in the heat vanish from their channels. Caravans turn aside from their routes; they go up into the wasteland and perish. The caravans of Tema look for water, the traveling merchants of Sheba look in hope. They are distressed, because they have been confident; they arrive there, only to be disappointed. Now you too have proved to be no help; you see something dreadful and are afraid. Have I ever said, ‘Give something on my behalf, pay a ransom for me from your wealth, deliver me from the hand of the enemy, ransom me from the clutches of the ruthless’?Job 6:14-23 (Job is Speaking)

Rebuke For ChidingTeach me, and I will be quiet; show me where I have been wrong. How painful are honest words! But what do your arguments prove? Do you mean to correct what I say, and treat the words of a despairing man as wind? You would even cast lots for the fatherless and barter away your friend.—Job 6:24-27 (Job is Speaking)

No Malice in CursesBut now be so kind as to look at me. Would I lie to your face? Relent, do not be unjust; reconsider, for my integrity is at stake. Is there any wickedness on my lips? Can my mouth not discern malice?—Job 6:28-20 (Job is Speaking)

Expectancy of HardshipDoes not man have hard service on earth? Are not his days like those of a hired man? Like a slave longing for the evening shadows, or a hired man waiting eagerly for his wages, so I have been allotted months of futility, and nights of misery have been assigned to me. When I lie down I think, ‘How long before I get up?’ The night drags on, and I toss till dawn. My body is clothed with worms and scabs, my skin is broken and festering.―Job 7:1-5(Job is Speaking)

Brevity of LifeMy days are swifter than a weaver’s shuttle, and they come to an end without hope. Remember, O God, that my life is but a breath; my eyes will never see happiness again. The eye that now sees me will see me no longer; You will look for me, but I will be no more. As a cloud vanishes and is gone, so he who goes down to the grave does not return. He will never come to his house again; his place will know him no more.―Job 7:6-10 (Job is Speaking)

Bitterness of PainTherefore I will not keep silent; I will complain in the bitterness of my soul. Am I the sea, or the monster of the deep, that you put me under guard? When I think my bed will comfort me and my couch will ease my complaint, even then You frighten me with dreams and terrify me with visions, so that I prefer strangling and death, rather than this body of mine. I despise my life; I would not live forever.―Job 7:11-16 (Job is Speaking)

Author: k. e. leger

I'm a writer.

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