Job 34: God is Not the Author of Evil

“Far be it from God to do wickedness, and from the Almighty to commit iniquity.” — Job 34:10b

God is God; You Are Not

Elihu gathers the wise and invites them to listen: “Hear my words, you wise men; give ear to me, you who have knowledge… For Job has said, ‘I am righteous, but God has taken away my justice’” (vv. 2, 5). To Elihu, Job’s assertion that God has wronged him is not just mistaken—it borders on blasphemy. Thus, Elihu responds with strong words: “Therefore, listen to me, you men of understanding: Far be it from God to do wickedness, and for the Almighty to commit iniquity. For He repays man according to his work and makes man to find a reward according to his way” (vv. 10-11). God is not unjust. He does not pervert justice, nor does He answer to anyone. He is righteous by nature.

Elihu appeals to the absolute sovereignty and moral perfection of God: “Who gave Him charge over the Earth? Or who appointed Him over the whole world? If He should set His heart on it, if He should gather to Himself His Spirit and His breath, all flesh would perish together, and man would return to dust” (vv. 13-15). No one appointed God over creation; that authority comes from God Himself. God therefore owes nothing to anyone. If He were to withdraw His breath, creation would cease. This is Elihu’s starting point: God is just because He is God, and He is God alone. Or to quote from one of my seminary professors, Rev. Dr. Joel Okamoto, “God is God; you are not. Don’t be a theologian of glory.”

We’ve all been tempted to question God’s justice because of our pain—or someone else’s. Elihu’s words, therefore, remind us that God’s justice is not subject to our verdict. We live in a world that demands explanations, especially when we suffer. But Elihu is right to say that God does not owe us an account. His office of God is not up for re-election. He is not righteous because we understand all His ways—He is righteous because He’s God. Although this truth may sting in seasons of sorrow, it anchors us in something more stable than our circumstances. When all else is shaken, God remains just.

We must also remember, however, that acknowledging God’s justice does not mean denying our grief. You don’t have to pretend suffering is easy just because you believe God is good. As we’ve seen throughout this whole book (and indeed, the Psalms), faith doesn’t mean silence—it means bringing your confusion and pain to the God whose justice is sure, even if that means you may sin. As Luther famously said, “God does not save people who are only fictitious sinners. Be a sinner and sin boldly, but believe and rejoice in Christ even more boldly, for He is victorious over sin, death, and the world” (LW 48:282).

The cry, “Why, Lord?” is not unbelief—it is worship shaped by longing. Even when you cannot trace His hand, you can trust His heart, for His justice is always governed by mercy; and in Christ, it has been forever joined to grace.

Where Elihu Speaks Truly, But Not Fully

Elihu’s zeal for God’s justice is admirable. He rightly insists God cannot be unjust or indifferent. His logic follows biblical truth: the Judge of all the Earth must do right (cf. Genesis 18:25). However, Elihu applies this truth in a rigid framework. He cannot yet conceive God may allow the righteous to suffer for purposes beyond immediate moral accounting. He maintains a principle of divine retribution that oversimplifies the complexity of providence. While less accusatory than Job’s three friends, Elihu still suggests Job must have spoken arrogantly or irreverently to be suffering in this way.

He says, “Men of understanding say to me, wise men who listen to me: ‘Job speaks without knowledge, his words are without wisdom.’ Oh, that Job were tried to the utmost, because his answers are like those of wicked men! For he adds rebellion to his sin; he claps his hands among us and multiplies his words against God” (vv. 34-37). Elihu believes Job has erred not only in content but in tone—that he has darkened counsel with words that challenge God’s integrity. His concern is theological: Job, in clinging to his innocence, is undermining God’s justice.

Elihu’s error is not in his exaltation of God’s righteousness. Like the other three friends, it’s in how he applies it. In his passion to defend God, he fails to show compassion to Job. “Should one who hates justice govern? Will you condemn Him who is most just?” (v. 17). These are sharp words, and although they may aim to preserve divine holiness, they risk condemning the sufferer who’s already broken. Elihu insists God does not overlook wrongdoing—and this is true—but he assumes Job is rebelling against God rather than him just being a sinner who is sinning boldly in his lament yet nevertheless trusting in his Redeemer (recall 19:25-27).

This is a warning for all modern readers. In our defense of God’s character, we must not become cruel to those who are suffering. Theology without compassion becomes a sword that wounds rather than a scalpel that brings healing. When someone like Job is crying out in confusion, the faithful response is not accusation but presence, prayer, and priestly listening. Elihu’s doctrine is often right, but it lacks tenderness. In this, he still echoes the cold certainty of the earlier friends.

The Judge Who Also Suffers

Elihu’s speech reminds us of the unshakable justice of God. He is not unjust. He does not act arbitrarily. But Job’s case invites us to see God’s justice is not always immediate and His purposes are often hidden from us. The cross of Christ is the clearest answer to Elihu’s limited view: there, the Judge of all creation becomes the condemned. There, justice and mercy meet (cf. Psalm 85:10). There, the innocent sufferer is not abandoned but exalted. God does not abandon His justice, but He fulfills it in a way Elihu could not yet imagine.

Job 34 is a call to hold tightly to God’s justice while leaving room for divine mystery. When suffering strikes, we must not rush to assign blame or assume understanding of the hidden mind of God (becoming a theologian of glory). Instead, as theologians of the cross, we kneel before the God whose ways are higher than ours; and we look to Jesus, who bore our iniquity without guilt, so that we might be justified by His merit and not our own. Job’s protest is not the end of the story. Neither is Elihu’s rebuke. The God who rules in righteousness is also the One who comes near in mercy, and He will soon speak for Himself.