It is January of 1823 when Fantine is at bottom. The snow came down in the cold of the evening. Yet one more blow comes upon the head of this poor lass from a man whose very personality echoed that of the man who originally struck her down in her bright childhood. Hugo compares Bamatabois with a Tholomyes who never made it to Paris. The relentless evil of men rains down on the innocent children in direct and especially indirect ways. And then it rains some more until the children succumb. There is no thought in some of loving and listening, but to grab what they can and to speak out of the emptiness of their own heads.

And after Bamatabois deals the blow, Javert is there to back him up. There is no justice on this earth. And such a sad story is only too true to life for some. Why does not God do something about this now? What about rape and famine and genocide and disease?

Especially in this fix-it materialist generation we demand an answer or give up on God. But the God of the Bible is not there under our microscope. He is present, but not contained even in our room, let alone in our box. He cannot be defined by our words. He invaded our world with the very purpose to suffer Himself for our wickedness so that we can enter into His Pleasure. And He renews human souls. His mercy overwhelms me.

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