The Indigestion of the Wicked
Introduction: Miserable Comfort, Enduring Truth
We are in the midst of the book of Job, listening to the counsel of his well-meaning but ultimately misguided friends. The man speaking in our text is Zophar the Naamathite, and we must begin by stating plainly that his application of this theology to Job is entirely wrong. Job is not suffering because he is a secret, rapacious sinner. Zophar is a miserable comforter because his diagnosis is carnal, his assumptions are false, and his bedside manner is atrocious. He is trying to fit Job's profound, sovereignly-appointed suffering into his tidy, mechanistic system of immediate retribution.
However, and this is crucial for us to understand, just because Zophar is a bad counselor does not mean that everything he says is untrue. A man can use a true principle in a false way. He can wield a sharp sword clumsily. And what Zophar lays out here is a brilliant, inspired, and visceral portrait of the nature of sin itself. He is wrong about Job, but he is devastatingly right about the wicked. He describes the internal economy of sin, the way it functions in the soul of a man who embraces it. He shows us that God has hardwired the universe in such a way that sin is not just wrong; it is self-destructive. It is a gourmet meal that turns to poison in the belly. It is a cosmic tapeworm.
Zophar's error was in his application, not in his fundamental theology of sin. So let us set aside his misdirected accusations against Job and listen to what the Holy Spirit is teaching us through him about the deceptive sweetness and the guaranteed bitterness of evil. This is a description of the man who loves his sin, who savors it like a fine wine, only to find that it is the venom of asps.
The Text
"Though evil is sweet in his mouth And he hides it under his tongue, Though he desires it and will not forsake it, And holds it to his palate, Yet his food in his stomach is changed To the venom of cobras within him. He swallows up wealth, But will vomit it up; God will expel it from his belly. He sucks the poison of cobras; The viper’s tongue kills him. He does not look at the streams, The rivers flowing with honey and curds. He returns what he has attained And cannot swallow it; As to the wealth of his trading, He cannot even enjoy it. For he has crushed and forsaken the poor; He has seized a house which he has not built. Because he knew no ease within his belly, In his covetousness, he does not let anything escape. Nothing remains for him to devour; Therefore his prosperity does not endure."
(Job 20:12-21 LSB)
The Connoisseur of Iniquity (vv. 12-13)
Zophar begins with the initial attraction of sin. Sin would not be a temptation if it did not, at first blush, appear desirable.
"Though evil is sweet in his mouth And he hides it under his tongue, Though he desires it and will not forsake it, And holds it to his palate..." (Job 20:12-13)
The imagery here is that of a gourmand, a connoisseur. This is not a man who sins accidentally. This is a man who cultivates his wickedness. The evil is "sweet in his mouth." It tastes good. It provides an immediate, sensual pleasure. He does not just swallow it down; he "hides it under his tongue" and "holds it to his palate." He is a sin-sommelier. He rolls it around, savoring every nuance, prolonging the experience. This speaks to the premeditated nature of cherished sin. It is the lustful thought that is entertained, the bitter grudge that is nursed, the fraudulent plan that is meticulously crafted.
Notice the willfulness: "he desires it and will not forsake it." He is not a victim of his sin; he is a lover of it. He clings to it. He refuses to let it go. This is the very definition of a hard heart. He has made a pet of his transgression. He feeds it, strokes it, and keeps it warm. This is the man who has made peace with his iniquity, who has decided that the fleeting sweetness is worth the eventual cost. He is, for the moment, a master of his small, dark pleasure.
The Divine Emetic (vv. 14-16)
But the laws of God's universe, both moral and spiritual, are inexorable. The sweet morsel does not nourish; it sickens.
"Yet his food in his stomach is changed To the venom of cobras within him. He swallows up wealth, But will vomit it up; God will expel it from his belly. He sucks the poison of cobras; The viper’s tongue kills him." (Job 20:14-16)
Here is the great reversal. The moment the sin is fully consumed, the moment it passes from the palate to the stomach, its nature is revealed. The chemical reaction of divine justice begins. That which was sweet becomes "the venom of cobras within him." It is a profound spiritual indigestion. The pleasure turns to pain, the thrill to terror. The sin begins to eat the sinner from the inside out.
Zophar specifies the sin of avarice: "He swallows up wealth." This is the man who gains his prosperity through oppression and injustice. But he cannot keep it. God Himself administers the emetic: "God will expel it from his belly." This is not simply a natural consequence; it is a divine judgment. God ensures that the wages of sin are not kept. The universe has a gag reflex to injustice. What is swallowed in greed will be vomited up in ruin.
The imagery intensifies. The sinner thought he was enjoying a sweet treat, but in reality, "He sucks the poison of cobras." The pleasure and the poison were one and the same. The act of sinning is the act of dying. The viper's tongue, which perhaps seemed enticing, is what kills him. Every lick of the lollipop was a dose of arsenic.
The Forfeited Feast (vv. 17-19)
The tragedy is not just what the sinner gains (poison), but what he loses.
"He does not look at the streams, The rivers flowing with honey and curds. He returns what he has attained And cannot swallow it; As to the wealth of his trading, He cannot even enjoy it. For he has crushed and forsaken the poor; He has seized a house which he has not built." (Job 20:17-19)
By choosing the artificial sweetness of stolen goods, he forfeits the true feast. "The rivers flowing with honey and curds" is a picture of covenantal blessing, of God's good and prosperous land. The wicked man trades the abundant, flowing river of God's favor for a small, poisoned candy. He settles for a fleeting, artificial buzz and in doing so, he is blinded to the true joy, the deep satisfaction, that comes from walking in God's ways.
And even the thing he stole brings him no lasting pleasure. He has the wealth, but he "cannot even enjoy it." This is the curse of Ecclesiastes. God can give a man a great pile of chips, but withhold the ability to enjoy the game. He has the house, but no peace within it. He has the money, but a gnawing emptiness in his soul. The guilt, the fear of being found out, the spiritual sickness within, all curdle the enjoyment. The sin that promised satisfaction brings only anxiety.
And here Zophar names the crime plainly: "he has crushed and forsaken the poor; He has seized a house which he has not built." This is not about personal peccadilloes. This is about systemic injustice. This is the man who builds his estate on the ruins of other men's lives. And God, the defender of the poor and the father to the fatherless, will not let it stand.
The Gnawing Emptiness (vv. 20-21)
The passage concludes by describing the internal state of this man. His life is a frantic pursuit of more, driven by a profound lack of peace.
"Because he knew no ease within his belly, In his covetousness, he does not let anything escape. Nothing remains for him to devour; Therefore his prosperity does not endure." (Job 20:20-21)
He "knew no ease within his belly." Despite all his swallowing, he is never full. There is a black hole at the center of his being. This is the nature of covetousness. It is an insatiable hunger. And so, he "does not let anything escape." His greed is a frantic, all-consuming fire. He must have more, because what he has provides no rest.
But this kind of consumption is unsustainable. He devours everything in his path until "Nothing remains for him to devour." He eats his seed corn. He burns his own house for fuel. And because his prosperity is built on consumption rather than cultivation, on theft rather than stewardship, it "does not endure." A kingdom built on poison will collapse from within.
Conclusion: The Antidote
Zophar, in his ignorance, was pointing his finger at Job. But the Holy Spirit, through this text, is pointing His finger at all of us. Who among us has not savored a sweet sin? Who has not hidden a transgression under the tongue, desiring it and refusing to forsake it? In our natural state, we are all this man. We have all chosen the poisoned candy over the rivers of honey and curds. We have all swallowed the lies of the viper and felt the venom work its way through our souls.
The diagnosis is grim. The spiritual indigestion of sin is fatal. But there is an antidote. There is one who drank the full cup of this poison, who took all the venom of all the cobras for all of His people, and swallowed it down to the dregs.
On the cross, Jesus Christ took the full, accumulated wrath of God that our sweet sins deserved. He drank the bitter cup so that we would not have to. God expelled from His own Son the judgment that should have been ours. Jesus endured the ultimate divine emetic, crying out, "My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?" He did this so that we, who come to Him in faith, could be cleansed of the poison.
To repent is to agree with God about the nature of our sin. It is to finally admit that the candy is poison. It is to spit it out, once and for all. And faith is turning from that poison to the true feast. Jesus does not offer us a temporary sweetness that turns to venom. He offers Himself as the Bread of Life and the Living Water. He offers the true rivers of honey and curds. He offers a satisfaction so deep that it brings "ease within his belly," a peace that passes all understanding.
Do not be the connoisseur of your own destruction. Spit out the poison. Turn from the viper. Come to the table that the Lord has prepared for you, and eat what is truly good, and you will live.