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I’ve spent years rolling rocks out of other people’s paths.

I helped another landlord this week and it triggered the painful memory of an old landlord from some time ago but I rented from him for many years (8 or 9 years) and knew what I was going through financially and emotionally with my sick parents and when he was in financial trouble during the covid period because he knew I was working extra after hours as an estate agent he asked me to sell his property and we agreed on my percentage and after I sold his house when I had to ask him, when do I get paid now, he shouted at me “I will never pay you your estate agents Commission because you agents earn to much”, and no matter how much I prayed that God would intercept and reason with him on my behalf. God never helped me to get paid just like with many other clients.

I’ve fought for clients in getting back what was theirs to start with against banks and other major institutions who then refused to pay me or not even had the decency to shake my hand and say thank you at least.

I’ve listened, advised, encouraged, carried, fixed — even when I was barely standing myself.

And I’m tired.

Not in the “I need a holiday” kind of tired.

The deep, soul-level tired that comes from giving water from a well that’s been dry for years because I am just surrounded by Job friends the scavengers.

And what makes Job friends ugly, is you hear their judgements and view points about you as person and you think to yourself. You clowns have no idea of what you are talking about and then as Murphy has it they hit a snag and they come running to you for help and this is where you see the ugly.

I don’t need someone to save me.

I don’t need someone to fix anything.

I just want to meet one person with my ethics, the inner me who sees the rocks in my path and says, “Let me kick this one out of the way because I know how and I can and it doesn’t cost me a thing and in actual fact I would feel better about myself, just like I do.” 

Someone who doesn’t only take.

Someone who doesn’t dampen my growth or someone elses so they can keep benefiting.

Someone who understands what it costs to keep showing up when nothing and no one is showing up for you.

I am Job.

I’ve learned how to move rocks for others.

Now I’m quietly hoping — somewhere, somehow — there’s another Job walking this earth who knows how and will move them for me too.

Still building.

Still hoping for reciprocity.

Still here.

paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7

I’m Not Waiting Anymore

I don’t know how to say this without sounding completely broken.

I’ve been waiting on God for so long that I can’t even remember when it started or why.

I can’t remember what I was originally waiting for.

The prayers have blurred together. The hope has worn thin. The “any day now” has turned into years.

And right now… I’m not waiting on nothing anymore.

I’m tired.

I’m broken.

I’m disappointed in a way that feels too heavy to carry nicely.

Everybody loves quoting the end of Job — the double blessing, the restoration, the happy ending.

But they don’t talk about the long, ugly middle where even the man who feared God starts wondering if the waiting is just another cruel joke.

I still believe God exists.

I just don’t know if He’s listening to me right now.

And I’m too exhausted to keep pretending I’m okay with the silence.

So today I’m saying it out loud:

I’m not waiting with excitement anymore.

I’m not holding my breath for the breakthrough.

I’m just here. Still breathing. Still in the pot. Still boiling.

Maybe one day something will shift.

Maybe it won’t.

Either way, I’m done forcing hope that feels fake.

My name is Job.

I’ve waited so long I forgot what I was waiting for.

And right now… I’m just trying to survive the waiting itself.

Still Building.

Even when I don’t know what I’m building toward anymore.

paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7

To my ten followers on Facebook, my two on X, and my twenty-six followers + eight subscribers on Medium…

Thank you.

From the bottom of my tired, still-building heart — thank you.

Some days I feel like I’m shouting into the void.

Some days I wonder if anyone is even reading these raw 2 AM pieces.

But you’re here. You’re reading. You’re walking this heavy road with me.

That means more than you know.

I’m not famous.

I’m not polished.

I’m just a man named Job — still in the pot, still boiling, still trying to make sense of the shit while refusing to stay broken.

The fact that you’re here anyway… that you’re willing to read the donkey pasta nights, the irritation, the secondhand faith, and the quiet hope — that humbles me.

So from one survivor to another:

Thank you for showing up.

Thank you for reading.

Thank you for being part of this small, honest corner of the internet.

We’re still building.

One raw post at a time.

Still Building.

paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7

What I Actually Want from Job 42

Everybody talks about the end of Job’s story like it’s a lottery ticket.

Double the wealth. Double the livestock. Double the blessings.

But that’s not what I want most.

If I could choose my own version of Job 42, it would be much simpler:

I just want my own career again.

I want my own income that actually stays in my pocket for once. Build up savings again.

I want my own safe place — not a fancy mansion, just a decent apartment or small house in a quiet area.

I want my own car again.

I want my own brand new bed that nobody else has dirtied.

I want my own space. Just mine.

Most of all… I want peace.

I don’t need people coming to window-shop my life.

I’m tired of looking over my shoulder.

I just need enough to stand on my own two feet again — clean, private, and protected.

A place where I can breathe.

A place where I can build.

That would be more than enough.

My name is Job.

Still in the pot. Still boiling. Still waiting.

But I know what I want now.

Not the glamorous restoration everyone preaches about.

Just the quiet, clean version.

Still Building.

Even when building means wanting simple things that feel impossible right now.

paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7

Even When Life Is Shit, There Is Still Beauty

You had fun because you were fun.

You felt loved because you loved and vibrated love and joy.

It was beautiful because you weren’t distracted by unhappiness and therefore saw it.

Even now.

Even when the money disappears before it can breathe.

Even when the landlord spies and plays stupid games because he is hard up for more money.

Even when your mouth is throbbing with pain.

Even when job applications feels like it’s taking forever.

Even when you wake up to scared to drive into town.

Even when you eat donkey pasta and laugh in the dark because you had one of two choices, either food & no electricity or electricity & no food.

There is still beauty and even a good giggle in a crapp decision.

Not because the circumstances are beautiful — they’re mostly shit right now.

But because I am still me.

I can still find something to laugh at.

I can still love hard.

I can still dream about beautiful things and dogs and a better life.

I can still write at 2 AM..

I can still feel hope after a dream where my dead family came to hug me.

The pot is still boiling.

The fire is still burning.

But something inside me has changed.

I don’t need perfect conditions to feel alive anymore.

I don’t need everything to be okay before I can see beauty.

I carry it with me now.

Everything I need is already within me.

My name is Job.

Life is still heavy most days.

But I am still fun.

I am still love.

I am still able to see beauty — even in the middle of the mess.

Still Building.

paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7

A Dream in the Middle of the Boiling Pot

I woke up this morning irritated as hell.

Everything feels slow.

Everything feels heavy.

The same old crap keeps boiling around me and I’m gatvol. I just want to get going, man. I want movement. I want something to finally break open forward.

But I woke up from a dream this morning.

I was in a house that I never lived in but the street name is the same as what I grew up on thousands of km’s away from where I am today. In the kitchen opening a new toothbrush. My mother walked in — the one who died five years ago — looked at my new tooth brush and said something of now my toothache will go away and quietly switched on the kettle for coffee. Then my brother, gone 25 years, came up the stairs as I was going down and greeted me. And as I walked down the passage, my dad that died 6 years ago came out of the bedroom, hugged me, and said he was going to miss me and turned away to do something at the table behind him without moving away from me.

It was peaceful.

It was warm.

It felt like love from the other side.

I woke up with that soft feeling still in my chest… but the irritation came rushing right back. Because the outside world hasn’t changed. The waiting is still here. The pressure is still here. The slow, grinding reality is still here.

This is my Job season.

You get a moment of comfort — a dream, a small sign, a little money for the dentist after weeks of walking with pain— and then reality slaps you again. The pot keeps boiling. The irritation stays. The desire to finally move forward burns in you.

I don’t know what the dream meant.

Maybe it was just my soul giving me a little tenderness in the middle of the fire accompanied with this darn toothach.

Maybe it was my family saying they see me.

Maybe it was a reminder that I’m not completely alone in this long, sore season.

All I know is I’m still here.

Still irritated.

Still tired.

Still carrying this heavy, quiet pressure every day.

But I’m still breathing.

Still writing.

Still refusing to stay broken.

My name is Job.

Some mornings the dream is beautiful.

Some mornings the irritation is louder.

Both are true.

Still Building.

Even when building feels slow, sore, and irritating as hell.

paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7

The Only Prayer This Job Has Left In Him.

Heavenly Father,

I place my past my now and future in Your hands.

I’m tired of closed doors, I’m tired of working for free and little bits of scrap and only to fail at everything.

I’m tired of delays.

I’m tired of spending money I don’t have and money desperately need in the house on new medicals every few months while everything moves in slow motion and nothing comes to an end or fruition.

But I know You are the God who makes a way where there seems to be none.

I declare: My destiny belongs to You.

Remove every obstacle and person that blocks my steps and progress.

Open the right doors — no one can shut.

Surround my journey with Your light, and let no curse, no attack, no scheme succeed against me please because you know it’s only me and you because I have no one ells left.

Even when I feel stuck in the ashes…

Even when I end up having donkey pasta for dinner after another horrible week and laugh about in the dark alone because you know how it goes, its either money for food or electricity or medication and never enough money for everything together. Ill try never to buy super cheap meat again, lesson learned.

Even when I don’t understand what You’re doing…

I’m still here.

Still breathing.

Still trusting with secondhand faith.

God, I’m not asking for much or riches or an ease road.

I’m just asking for the strength to keep walking in it.

Still Building.

Amen.

If you want to support I am Job PEASE?

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The Silent Pressure of Trying to Be Okay
Not everything that hurts is visible.
Some people don’t cry.
They don’t break down.
They don’t ask for help.
They just… continue.
They wake up, go to work, reply to messages, smile when needed —
but inside, something feels heavy.
Life has a way of putting pressure on us quietly.
Expectations. Money. The fear of not being enough.
And yet, we carry it. Every day.
The truth is, strength doesn’t always look loud.
Sometimes, strength is just getting through the day without giving up.
Sometimes, it’s choosing to keep going — even when no one notices.
So if you’re feeling tired, overwhelmed, or stuck…
just know this:
You’re not weak.
You’re human.
And that is more than enough.

If I am Job has been a friend to you today, please consider buying me a coffee please that I Job may have in my silence please.

paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7

It’s 2 AM.

The old coffee is almost dead.

I have sitting at this corner window for a long time now with a beer that’s gone warm and a cigarette burning slow between my fingers. The ashtray’s full. My head’s full. My chest is heavier than the darn smoke, but sometimes it’s all we just need to escape a bit. Just sitting watching joyful, healthy and successful people with the hope of their good and healthy viabrating energies jumps over to me and consume me.

This is where the real everything comes out.

No nice lighting.

No filter.

No pretending I’ve got it all figured out.

My name is Job.

I’ve lost more than I could afford, even part of my health and twice I was on the brink of not coming back. The first time my central nervous system packed up, the second time it was a stroke.

Through it all, I lost my Family to deaths, Money, Dignity, Direction, and my Career.

I’ve been betrayed by people I trusted with my life.

I’ve had clients take my work and disappear with my livelihood.

I’ve had strokes and nervous system breakdowns and still woke up the next day wondering why the hell I’m still breathing.

I’ve screamed at God.

I’ve sat in silence waiting for an answer that never came.

I’ve borrowed my faith secondhand from a man who went through worse and still refused to stay broken.

And yet… here I am.

Still smoking.

Still drinking this warm beer.

Still writing.

Still Building.

Even when building feels like bleeding.

This page — I Am Job Uncut — is where I stop performing.

This is the raw, late-night, unfiltered version of me.

The anger. The woped humor, The moments I want to give up. The stubborn darn decision to keep going anyway. Something like a spaceship pilot all alone in a very big dark atmosphere and wanting to get home and has no idee how this is going to work out or where his going to land or end up, but the only guarantee he has is its going to hurt but he doesn’t know where or how yet.

If you’re also sitting in the ashes at 2 AM out of touch wondering how the hell you’re supposed to keep going… pull up a stool, brother or sister.

You’re not alone.

My name is Job.

What’s your name?

And what season are you in right now?

Let’s talk.

Still Building.

If I Am Job, has brought any support or at least some laughter to you today, please consider buying me a coffee I kind of desperately need that coffee at: paypal.me/VanDerMerwe7