When we finished the books we'd open a couple of beers. I'd watch the guys drinking and read the papers, and it was good times. It was a good place to work. I was the freakish only male employee and everyone liked me. I think in China they'd call me a Mongolian.
The gardener was cutting up the wood for fire and we were making something. Then he came and told us to go home. He said in the spring the river is rising and that the fish had died. Some said that the river was a god and some said that he was a wizard, but none of them knew how I would come to say the truth.
I've always been struck by Job's reaction to the moment when he realizes that his seemingly good life is really lost. It seems possible that he feels a mixture of relief at knowing that god has spared him and sorrow at having suffered so much. He's repelled by the trivial, acquisitive nature of his false friends, but also by the loss of his earthly bread and bed.Meanwhile, God has allowed the flood to devastate the earth, trashing Job's gardens and plowing up his orchards and vineyards, sowing wild mustard in their place, and setting the famine-howling wild animals to gnaw at his skins. But does Job really think god has treated him more justly than the rest of humankind? Is his righteous anger justified? What's a righteous man to do when he's thrown into the clutches of evil and suffering? d2c66b5586