The Flash Flood and the Field Hand Text: Job 24:18-25
Introduction: The Impatience of the Afflicted
We come now to a portion of Job's speech that has tied commentators in knots for centuries. After a long and detailed description of the audacious sins of the wicked, their cruelty, their greed, and their utter disregard for God or man, Job appears, at first glance, to pivot entirely. He seems to start spouting the very arguments his friends have been beating him with, the standard wisdom that the wicked get theirs in the end. Some have been so perplexed that they've suggested these are not Job's words at all, but rather Zophar cutting in, or perhaps a scribe accidentally misplaced a portion of another speech.
But this is to miss the genius of the argument and the raw, sarcastic agony of the man speaking. We must remember the context. Job is not a systematic theologian calmly dictating a treatise in his study. He is a man on an ash heap, scraping his boils with a piece of pottery, whose life has been systematically dismantled by a sovereign God he cannot understand. His friends have been offering him pious, plastic platitudes that are true in the abstract but feel like lies in the particular. They are right, woodenly. Yes, God judges the wicked. But Job's burning question, the one that is tormenting him, is "When?"
What we have here is not a contradiction, but a bitter, ironic concession. Job is saying, "Oh, you want the orthodox answer? You want the Sunday School lesson? Fine. I'll give it to you. But I'll show you just how thin it feels when you're the one under the boot." He is taking their tidy formula and holding it up to the light of his own experience, showing that while it may be true in the grand, cosmic sense, it is a cold comfort to the man whose children are dead and whose property is gone. He is describing the final judgment of the wicked, yes, but with the pained voice of a man who sees them prospering right now. He is saying that their end is sure, but their present is secure, and that is the scandal of providence that is vexing his soul.
This passage is a masterful depiction of the brevity and vanity of the wicked man's life when viewed from God's eternal perspective. But it is also a cry of desperation from a man living in man's perspective, who has to watch the wicked get away with it, day after day. It is a lesson in how God's ultimate justice often feels like present injustice to us, and how we must trust His timing, even when it makes no sense to our own.
The Text
"They are insignificant on the surface of the water; Their portion is cursed on the earth. They do not turn toward the vineyards. Drought and heat seize the snow waters, So does Sheol those who have sinned. A mother will forget him; The worm feasts sweetly till he is no longer remembered. And unrighteousness will be broken like a tree. He feeds on the barren woman who does not give birth And does no good for the widow. But He drags off the mighty by His power; He rises, but no one believes in his life. He provides them with security, and they are supported; And His eyes are on their ways. They are exalted a little while, then they are gone; Moreover, they are brought low and like everything gathered up; Even like the heads of grain they are cut off. Now if it is not so, who can prove me a liar, And make my speech worthless?"
(Job 24:18-25 LSB)
Swift, Cursed, and Barren (vv. 18-19)
Job begins his ironic recitation of the fate of the wicked with three sharp, poetic images.
"They are insignificant on the surface of the water; Their portion is cursed on the earth. They do not turn toward the vineyards." (Job 24:18)
First, they are "insignificant on the surface of the water." The Hebrew is literally "swift upon the face of the waters." This is a picture of something transient, like a twig or a piece of debris caught in a flash flood. It moves quickly, it's on the surface, it has no depth, and it is gone in a moment, swept away by a power it cannot resist. This is the ultimate reality of the wicked man's life. He may look impressive, he may make a lot of noise, but from God's vantage point, he is just a bit of flotsam on its way to oblivion. He has no substance, no permanence.
Second, "Their portion is cursed on the earth." This strikes at the very heart of the wicked man's ambition. He lives for his portion on the earth. His whole life is a grasping for land, for wealth, for legacy. Yet, Job says, that very thing he worships is cursed. It is poisoned. He may build his little empire, but God has written a curse over the title deed. This is the curse of Genesis 3, the ground that brings forth thorns and thistles. The wicked man thinks he can outsmart the curse, that he can build a little Eden for himself through his own strength, but he is only building on cursed ground.
Third, "They do not turn toward the vineyards." The vineyard in Scripture is a symbol of settledness, joy, fruitfulness, and covenant blessing. It is the place of celebration and family life. The wicked man, in his frantic pursuit of more, never actually gets to enjoy the fruit of his labor. He is a stranger to his own blessings. He is so consumed with acquiring the next field that he never sits down to drink the wine from the field he already has. His life is one of restless acquisition, not joyful possession. He is a spiritual absentee landlord.
"Drought and heat seize the snow waters, So does Sheol those who have sinned." (Job 24:19)
This is a brilliant desert simile. In the spring, the wadis are full of water from the melted snow in the mountains. It is a torrent, a powerful rush of life. But then the summer sun comes, the searing heat of the desert, and it is gone. The torrent vanishes as if it had never been. Job says this is exactly what Sheol, the grave, does to sinners. They may have a season of roaring success, a life that seems full and powerful, but the heat of God's judgment comes, and they are consumed. Sheol snatches them away, and the place where they once rushed with such importance is left as dry, cracked earth.
Forgotten, Broken, and Predatory (vv. 20-21)
Job continues to trace the trajectory of the wicked man into utter nothingness.
"A mother will forget him; The worm feasts sweetly till he is no longer remembered. And unrighteousness will be broken like a tree." (Job 24:20)
This is a devastating blow. A mother's love is the fiercest and most enduring of human bonds. For a mother to forget her child is the ultimate sign of erasure. Job is saying the wicked man's memory will be so completely obliterated that even the one who bore him will have no recollection. He will cease to have ever been. This is the opposite of the biblical promise that the righteous will be held in everlasting remembrance (Psalm 112:6).
While his own mother forgets him, the worm remembers him with relish. "The worm feasts sweetly" on him. This is a grotesque, visceral image. The one creature that finds him delightful is the maggot in his grave. He becomes nothing more than a gourmet meal for decomposers. His life's work, his name, his pride, all of it is reduced to sweet sustenance for the lowest of creatures. And then, the final verdict: "he is no longer remembered."
The conclusion is that "unrighteousness will be broken like a tree." A great, imposing tree can dominate a landscape for a century. It seems immovable, permanent. But a storm comes, or a woodman's axe, and in a moment, it is shattered, splintered wood on the ground. So it is with the wicked man's life. His injustice, his towering pride, his oppressive schemes, will all be snapped and broken by the judgment of God.
"He feeds on the barren woman who does not give birth And does no good for the widow." (Job 24:21)
Here Job briefly returns to the character of this man whose end he is describing. This is not an innocent man who has met a tragic fate. This is a predator. He "feeds on" the most vulnerable. The barren woman and the widow were the two most socially powerless figures in the ancient world. They had no husband or son to protect or provide for them. This man does not help them; he consumes them. He sees their vulnerability not as a call to compassion, but as an opportunity for exploitation. This is why his end is so just and so absolute. He who devoured the helpless will himself be devoured by worms and forgotten by his mother.
The Paradox of Providence (vv. 22-24)
And now we come to the very heart of Job's torment, the paradox that his friends refuse to acknowledge. He has just described the swift and total destruction of the wicked. But then he says this:
"But He drags off the mighty by His power; He rises, but no one believes in his life. He provides them with security, and they are supported; And His eyes are on their ways." (Job 24:22-23)
This is the pivot. Who is the "He" in this verse? It is God. God is the one who "drags off the mighty." But the language is tricky. It can also mean that God preserves the mighty. And look at what follows. The wicked man "rises, but no one believes in his life." This likely means that he falls into such trouble that everyone gives him up for dead, but then he gets back up again, seemingly against all odds. He is resilient in his wickedness.
And why? Verse 23 gives the scandalous answer: "He [God] provides them with security, and they are supported." God Himself gives the wicked man a platform to stand on. God props him up. God gives him a sense of safety and stability, all while "His eyes are on their ways." This is the doctrine of divine hardening. God is watching every wicked thing this man does, not to stop him, but to allow him to continue, to fill up the full measure of his sin. God gives him the rope. This is what is so maddening to Job. It is not just that the wicked prosper; it is that God seems to be actively underwriting their prosperity. He is the one giving them the security they need to continue their oppression.
"They are exalted a little while, then they are gone; Moreover, they are brought low and like everything gathered up; Even like the heads of grain they are cut off." (Job 24:24)
Here is the resolution, but it is a resolution on God's timetable, not man's. "They are exalted a little while." From our perspective on the ash heap, that "little while" can feel like a lifetime. But from the perspective of eternity, it is a vapor, a blink of an eye. And then, suddenly, "they are gone." Their fall is as swift as their exaltation was offensive.
The final image is agricultural. They are "like the heads of grain they are cut off." The wicked man, in his pride, sees himself as a mighty oak. God sees him as a stalk of wheat. He lets him grow, lets him ripen in his sin, lets him stand tall and golden in the field. And then, when the harvest time comes, when his iniquity is full, the divine sickle flashes, and he is cut down. The harvest is not a tragedy; it is the plan. God is not out of control when the wicked prosper; He is farming.
The Challenge (v. 25)
Job concludes this section not with a humble submission, but with a defiant challenge to his friends.
"Now if it is not so, who can prove me a liar, And make my speech worthless?" (Job 24:25)
He is throwing the gauntlet down. "Refute me if you can." He knows that he has spoken the truth, both about the ultimate end of the wicked and about the perplexing, present reality of their God-given security. He has painted a picture that is far more complex and true to life than the simplistic cartoons his friends have been offering. They want a world where every sinner is struck by lightning within five minutes. Job describes the world as it actually is: a world where God is patient with His enemies, allowing them to prosper for a season, before a sudden and catastrophic harvest.
Job is not denying divine justice. He is wrestling with the timing of it. And in his challenge, he is asserting that his description of reality is the accurate one. Any attempt to deny it is to lie, to make his speech, which is grounded in painful experience, into nothing.
Conclusion: Trusting the Farmer
So what are we to do with this? We live in a world that is still full of mighty men who prey on the barren and the widow. We see unrighteousness that looks less like a tree about to be broken and more like a forest that is taking over everything. We see wicked men who are not just secure, but celebrated. And like Job, we are tempted to cry out, "How long, O Lord?"
This passage gives us the framework for a mature faith. First, we must affirm with Job the ultimate truth: their end is destruction. They are twigs in a flood. They are snow-melt in the desert. Their memory will be dung. God's justice is not a question of if, but only of when. We must hold fast to the certainty of the final harvest.
But second, we must also have the courage to face the present reality that Job describes. God, in His inscrutable wisdom, does grant security to the wicked for a time. He does let them ripen on the stalk. Why? The apostle Paul tells us it is to show "His wrath and to make His power known" (Romans 9:22). A stalk of wheat that is only six inches high does not display the full power of the harvester's sickle. God lets His enemies grow to their full height, to their maximum arrogance, so that when He does cut them down, His power and justice are put on display for all the world to see. Think of Pharaoh. God Himself hardened his heart, exalted him, all so that his destruction in the Red Sea would be a testimony for millennia.
Our task is not to understand the farmer's schedule. Our task is to trust the Farmer. He knows which heads of grain are His, and which are destined for the fire. He knows the exact moment to swing the sickle. And while we wait for that harvest, we are to live faithfully, to defend the widow and the barren, and to refuse the temptation to either despair at the prosperity of the wicked or to adopt their methods. For we know that our portion is not a cursed plot of earth, but a heavenly city. We do not live for a legacy that our mothers will forget, but for the approval of a Father who will never forget us, because our names are written on the hands of His Son.