Jeremiah.
Chapter 20.
Pashhur, son of Immer, was a priest and the official in charge of the Lord's Temple. When he heard Jeremiah prophesying these things, 
he beat Jeremiah the prophet and had him put in the stocks at the Upper Benjamin Gate, near to the Lord's Temple. 
The following day, when Pashhur had Jeremiah released from the stocks, Jeremiah told him, “The Lord doesn't call you Pashhur (tear in pieces), but Magor-missabib (terror is everywhere). 
For this is what the Lord says: I'm going to make you terrified—you and all those you love. Enemies will kill them as you watch. I will hand Judah over to the king of Babylon. He will kill some, and the rest he will take away into exile in Babylon. 
I'm going to give it all away. All the wealth of this city, all the results of hard work, all the valuables, all the crown jewels of Judah's kings—I'm going to hand it over to their enemies, who will take it as plunder and carry it off to Babylon. 
You, Pashhur, and everyone who lives with you, will go into captivity. You will go to Babylon. You will die there and be buried—you and all those you love, those to whom you prophesied lies.” 
You fooled me, Lord, and I let myself be fooled! You're stronger than me—you've won! I've become a joke people laugh at all day long. Everyone is mocking me. 
This is because every time I open my mouth I have to shout out warnings of violence and destruction. The Lord's message has become the reason people criticize and ridicule me the whole time. 
If I tell myself, “I won't talk about him anymore, I won't even mention his name,” then his message is like a fire trapped within me, burning me from the inside out. I'm getting tired of holding it in. I just can't win. 
I've heard many people gossiping: “He's the one who says, ‘terror is everywhere!’ He has to be reported! Report what he's doing!” All my good friends are waiting for me to slip up. “Maybe he'll make a mistake so we can defeat him and get our revenge on him,” they say. 
But the Lord stands beside me like a powerful warrior. So those who are attacking me will fall. They won't win! Because they're not successful they will be totally disgraced. Their shame won't ever be forgotten. 
Lord Almighty, you know without question who is living right. You examine people's thoughts and feelings. So let me see your punishment fall on them, because I've trusted you to judge my case. 
Sing to the Lord! Praise the Lord! For he saves the poor from the power of the wicked. 
May the day I was born be cursed! May the day my mother gave birth to me never be blessed! 
May the man be cursed who brought my father the news that made him really happy, saying, “You have a son.” 
May that man be like the towns that the Lord destroyed without mercy. May he hear shouts of alarm in the morning and war-cries at noon, 
because he should have killed me in the womb so that my mother would have been my grave, remaining pregnant forever. 
Why was I born only to see trouble and sadness, and to end my life in shame? 
