Well, Job asked the question, whether it was right of him or not. Why doesn’t God do something about this?

Let’s remember where Job is at this point in his life. He has been robbed. What was not stolen, he has lost to natural disasters. He has lost his children, his entire staff, and his business to thieves and tragedy. And then, if that weren’t enough, he got sick. Very, very sick. He is on his deathbed sick. He is facing the probability of leaving his wife behind widowed, childless, and completely unprotected.

And nobody got in trouble for any of it.

I can’t say I understand completely, but I understand some.

Last year, our van was stolen right out of our driveway. That van was a gift to us; we could never have afforded to buy it on our own, but by the generosity of some of our family, we were gifted this vehicle that allowed us to take our children camping and on road trips and all over the city with their friends. It fit all of my brother’s kids and mine, comfortably. It could tow our little camper to the mountains and fit suitcases, Christmas presents, and the dog for a holiday with family. And it was ours. The kites my kids had bought with their own money were in it, and my husband’s tools were scattered all through the back. The stickers they had stuck to their doors against the rules were right where they left them. My husband’s sunglasses, my pens, the bag of nickels leftover from a birthday party at Nickel-A-Play. Even the lingering stench of that time somebody forgot a gallon of milk in the car on a hot day, and it burst. Ours.

And they took it. Partied in it. Wrecked it. In one night, the van we had scrubbed, repaired, modified, and loved with our own time, energy, and money was destroyed by someone who gave nothing for it.

But this is the United States, right. So the thieves would have to pay for it, right. We have a criminal justice system. People don’t get away with stuff like that here.

Nope.

Oh, make no mistake. They were caught. We know their names. Their faces.

We never saw a dime of recompense. Our insurance, who we pay, paid for some of the replacement. We paid for the rest. The thieves paid not. a. dime. They were teens, see. So they were let go.

After talking to other victims of crimes whose perpetrators, though clearly proven guilty, went free, I grew stunned at the lack of consequences for crime, even in America. Child abusers who left children permanently handicapped, free. Men who locked up their wives and threatened to kill them, free. Rapists, free. Drug dealers, free. Thieves and swindlers, cheaters, murderers, bullies, free.

If the government has no teeth, then what reason does anyone have not to do these things?

That is the question Job is asking, too. If God does nothing to the rulebreakers, why should anyone follow his rules?

This is his path back down the mountain: he is trying to take this new revelation he’s had at the top and understand what it means for life at the bottom. What is interesting to me is that this discussion is mirrored in Romans 6 under the new revelation of God’s plan for salvation by grace through Jesus Christ:

Sin is no longer your master, for you no longer live under the requirements of the law. Instead, you live under the freedom of God’s grace.

Well then, since God’s grace has set us free from the law, does that mean we can go on sinning? Of course not! Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey? You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death, or you can choose to obey God, which leads to righteous living.  (Romans 6:14-16)

Job has seen a need for a mediator – that need would be fulfilled in Jesus. He has expressed faith that because this need exists, God will meet it – and that declaration of faith became a beautiful prophecy of the coming Messiah that Jesus would fulfill. Job is, thousands of years before Jesus was born, going through a conversion experience in which he moves his faith for salvation from himself to Jesus. And like those who would put their faith in Christ thousands of years later, the process of transitioning from a life under law to a life under grace created some confusion in his theology. One of the first things most new followers of Jesus ask is, “So – if Jesus took the punishment for our sins – can we just do whatever we want, then?” Funny, I don’t think that was the end goal of the cross.

But if God shows grace to wrongdoers, then what does it matter what I do?

Look at Job puzzling over the same question. It’s like grace confuses people no matter what their cultural-linguistical context.

So if God does not directly punish the wicked, if that’s not why we’re doing this, is there any other reason to be good? Is there any reason not to take whatever we want, knocking down anyone who gets in our way? Does it even matter what we do? If we are all treated the same by God, why shouldn’t we just follow our impulses and live for no one but ourselves?

I mean, it’s a fair question, no? Maybe not one we humans are *quite* qualified to answer. We maybe have some biases and desires that *might* skew our thinking from rational to rationalizing. But then again, when has that stopped us from trying?

Job begins to consider what happens to people who do what God forbids. He begins to try to use his human reasoning to understand God’s reasons.

So when God does not intervene, what is the fate of wicked people?

But they disappear like foam down a river.
    Everything they own is cursed,
    and they are afraid to enter their own vineyards.
The grave^[a] consumes sinners
    just as drought and heat consume snow.
Their own mothers will forget them.
    Maggots will find them sweet to eat.
No one will remember them.
    Wicked people are broken like a tree in the storm. (Job 24:18-20)

Job observes that for one thing, “everything [the wicked] own is cursed.” The pleasure their riches afford is diminished by the psychological torment that comes from how they are obtained; “they are afraid to enter their own vineyards.” Paranoid, constantly watching over their shoulder, these people can hardly enjoy anything they’ve taken because they are so worried about who might want revenge. What is the point of having power, of having riches, of having the medal or the award if it had to be taken by force? Valuable things lose their worth when they are cheaply obtained. They become a thing of terror rather than a thing of joy.

In Romans, Paul says it this way: “Don’t you realize that you become the slave of whatever you choose to obey?”

That sounds like a rotten consequence. But that’s not all.

For an extra kick, he says, “No one will remember them.” Not even their own mothers, apparently. Now, I look at this and think, Pretty sure we remember Hitler. I wonder, then, if the translation does not really do this passage justice. There are many different ways to remember someone, and one way we use this word is to say we miss someone who is gone. When we choose to remember our fallen soldiers who laid down their lives for us, it is with reverence. When we tell stories about our grandparents to our children, it is with love. We respect these people. We miss these people and wish they were still here with us.

Funny, I don’t know a lot of people who miss Hitler or wish he was still here. There are a lot of people, actually, who rejoice that he’s gone. Most of us just let out a huge sigh of relief when someone as dangerous as he is stops being a threat. It’s not even about whether or not we like him or hate him or if everything he did was bad. It’s how he affected our lives overall; it’s that he was a problem, a big, scary, demanding problem, that has finally come to an end. Would we have preferred redeemed? Some of us who dream of an ideal world, yes. Would we take just gone gratefully? Yeah, that’ll have to do. Maybe that’s what Job is saying. Folks, nobody’s going to miss cruel, selfish people when they’re gone. Not even their own mothers.

And yet, in chapter 21 didn’t he say that “an honor guard stands watch at their tomb” and “many pay their respects as the body is laid to rest”? Huh. Maybe so. But does that mean people will actually miss them? There is a difference between acknowledging a person’s end with outward respect and actually missing them from day to day life, isn’t there.

Or maybe, and I think this is more likely, is Job saying that everyone is forgotten in the end, and the cruel are no exception. That reputation they wrecked other people’s lives to build does not last like they think it will, does it. So what’s the point? All that destruction, all that pain and suffering, and for what? Nothing, he says. They’re just the same as everybody else: forgotten.

At the end of it, Job says, they die just like the rest of us. None of the power or wealth they obtained prevents them from suffering the same fate as the people they mistreated: “They may rise high, but they have no assurance of life.” So what is the end result of a life of wicked cruelty? 1) a life of fear, 2) nobody likes them, and 3) still death.

Or, according to Romans, “You can be a slave to sin, which leads to death.”

As this journey concludes, Job finds

God, in his power, drags away the rich.
    They may rise high, but they have no assurance of life.
They may be allowed to live in security,
    but God is always watching them.
And though they are great now,
    in a moment they will be gone like all others,
    cut off like heads of grain.

Job is on his way back down the mountain, and he has concluded that no amount of riches gained, no matter how they are gained, can overpower God or buy an escape from death. If that’s the goal, cruelty failed. The only thing the wicked get for their methods is spoiled enjoyment of their wealth and others’ contempt. They do not go unnoticed by God, even if he does not move against them immediately. He gives them no special favor, even if he gives them no special punishment, either.

God treats us all the same, Job argues, no matter what we do. This is as far as his human mind can come to a rational explanation of what he has seen.

And then he concludes his observations, his evidence, his argument with this challenge:

Can anyone claim otherwise?
    Who can prove me wrong? (Job 24:25)

Say it isn’t so, Job dares. Tell me you have not seen what I have seen.

Sounds a little bitter, a little jaded, I admit. Definitely not a story you’d see on a felt board.

But can you, student of history and experience, say he’s wrong?