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Job_9:18 He will not suffer me to take my breath, but filleth me with bitterness.
Ver. 18. He will not suffer me to take my breath] I am so far from a period, that I have no pause of my troubles. I cannot get any interspirias, or free breathing space. See Job_7:19. And in the former verse he had complained that God had stormed him. Interim per Pathos, saith Mercer; here he returns to his old practice of expostulating about the greatness of his grief, and spares not to hyperbolize. Beda and others understand this text to be a bodily distemper upon Job, which had made him short winded. And Lavater hath this good note here, Hoc cogitandum nobis est, &c. Let this text be thought upon when our spirits begin to sink; as also when by reason of the phthisic, {A wasting disease of the lungs; pulmonary consumption} or any other like disease, we feel a difficulty of breathing, and a straitening of our pectorals, or be otherwise compassed about with great sorrows.
But filleth me with bitterness] Heb. He satiateth me with bitternesses, i.e. with sore and sharp afflictions, which are in no way joyous, but grievous to the flesh, Heb_12:11. Job had his belly full of gall and wormwood; he had not only a draught or two, but a diet drink made for him of most bitter ingredients. Of this he complaineth heavily; what then will the wicked do, that must suck up the dregs of God’s cup, Psa_78:8, which hath eternity to the bottom?