Enoch's Not So Epic Exit
How a 365-year cameo with God interrupts death
In the Bible’s first genealogy, the list of Adam’s descendants unfolds like a steady drumbeat—one name after another, each marked by the same tragic thud: “and he died.”
Adam lived and died.
Seth lived and died.
Enosh lived and died.
The rhythm is relentless. The human story is one of inevitability: life followed by death. But then, right in the middle of this parade of mortality, there’s a strange and short interruption.
“Enoch walked with God, and he was not, for God took him” (Gen. 5:24).
No death. No burial. No funeral procession. Just a man, walking with God, then—poof!—gone.
The moment is as anticlimactic as it is extraordinary. Enoch doesn't die; he’s “taken.” The only other person in the library of Scripture to be “taken” was Elijah. His departure is nothing short of cinematic—a fiery chariot, a whirlwind, a dramatic, public spectacle (2 Kgs. 2:1, 9–12). It’s the kind of departure that demands attention, that grabs hold of the imagination.
And then there’s Enoch. His "taking" is strikingly… mundane, almost disappointingly so. There are no fiery chariots, thunderous whirlwinds, or grand cosmic fanfare. Sure, his name is in a genealogy (not much room for commentary), but having more description here would've been nice. Enoch’s departure is reduced to a mere footnote in the grand narrative of the biblical blockbuster.
I still like to picture it almost like a “Beam me up, Scotty” moment (Yes, Trekkies, I’m aware that exact phrase never actually gets uttered in Star Trek). Still, the point stands: this isn’t a spectacular, Hollywood-worthy moment. It’s just… done.
“God took him.”
But what’s remarkable is that Enoch’s life was about living with God. The text doesn’t say he lived for God or even just believed in God. No, Enoch “walked” with God. It’s mentioned twice (Gen. 5:22, 24). That’s the author’s hint that this is a big deal. To “walk with God” is a profound metaphor for a deep, ongoing friendship with the Creator. Enoch isn’t the first to have walked with God and won’t be the last.
His great-great-grandparents likely strolled with God in the garden (Gen. 3:8). But their walk was interrupted by sin. Suddenly, instead of union, we had shame, separation, and death.
But with Enoch, even in a world where sin and death reign, something different happens. He walks with God, and death is interrupted.
There’s hope in that for us. Walking with God in a sinful world is possible.
In a sense, Enoch’s life is a walking proclamation that it’s possible to live in such friendship with God that death itself cannot keep up.
His 365 years were the shortest of the antediluvians, though I’d be happy to settle for that. But maybe that's the point.
The narrator seems to suggest that long life isn’t the ultimate blessing from God. It’s not about how many years you live but how you live them. In a world where Lamech mourns the pain of life (Gen. 5:29), Enoch's brief but faithful walk with God demonstrates that the depth of our relationship with Yahweh is the telos of life. This reminds us that living closely with God can be more fulfilling, even if we live for fewer years.
Much later in the biblical story, Enoch is celebrated for his faith and offered as an example. His trust in God led to his being "taken” (Heb. 11:5).
The Hebrew verb for “taken,” laqach, is the same one used in Genesis 2:15, when God “takes” Adam and places him in the garden. And here, in Genesis 5:24, Enoch is “taken” back to paradise.
Enoch's walk with God interrupts death.
This is the kind of life God offers us—a life leading to a full and lasting friendship with him. Enoch's life is a snapshot, a small but interruptive preview of the drama unfolding throughout the Bible. It moves from death to life, from the devastating consequences of sin in Genesis to the glorious restoration of life in Revelation (Gen. 3, Rev. 21–22).
Enoch's cameo in another long list of names connects us to Jesus's life and ministry (Luke 3:23, 29). But Jesus doesn't just walk with God—he is God. In him, death is interrupted and ultimately undone. Through God in Christ, we’re not just provided to be “taken” from death but to return to life in God's presence, to re-enter God's paradise.
God’s plan has always been about reversing death’s grip over creation.
Reclaiming what was lost.
Bringing humanity back into God's life-giving presence.
That’s why death is ultimately undone in Christ.
The story always moves toward life, restoration, and God's eternal presence.
Enoch's life is tucked away in the Bible’s opening pages, a list of names that shows us that even in a world marching to the beat of death, there’s another way—a way of walking with God, living closely with him, and trusting him so wholly that death itself is interrupted, and ultimately undone.