Healing My Inner Jonah
There was a time when calling someone a “Jonah” meant that they were a jinx, someone who brought misfortune to those around them. Our biblical Jonah certainly did that for the crew of the ship he boarded to escape from God. This is, however only a small scene in the book bearing this reluctant and disgruntled prophet’s name. And to give him a little credit, when confronted by the crew when he “won” the “whose fault is it?” lottery, Jonah revealed that the only way to stop the raging storm was to throw him overboard. This is probably the only time in the Bible that folks were rewarded for sending a prophet away, seemingly to his doom.
Would I have admitted to the crew of the foundering ship that throwing an excess passenger into the waves (specifically, me) could get them out of the middle of this Potter/clay struggle? That’s the great thing about being a writer, you don’t have to answer your own questions.
To Jonah’s relief, he did not drown, but to his chagrin it was a sea creature who gave him a ride—inside. Witness the about face of the gentleman sloshing about in the gastric juices of a fish for 3 days and nights. Our involuntary evangelist finally found contrition and waxed eloquent with prayers and supplication to the one who ordered the unorthodox transportation. God commanded the fish to cough the preacher-to-be up, but the sea dweller probably didn’t take much coaxing and was likely ready to give up this stomach upsetter. If you think conversions in a foxhole are impressive, my own inner Jonah would have taken a page from Peter the water-walker, and started atoning, praying, and pleading, the minute I found myself in the drink.
This is a prophet after my own heart. He only worked one day, and was a success (at least in his Superior’s reckoning). From the least to the greatest the Ninevites atoned in a spectacular way: sackcloth and ashes, fasting from food and water, and hollering out to the heavens. Jonah basks in his victory by getting angry and complaining to God about divine compassion and mercy. Isn’t this the guy who just missed being food for seafood and was pretty much pleading in the same vein as these sinners?
Like Jonah, my relationship to the Boss of all has its ups and downs. There was a time when I preferred to keep a low profile with the Creator. From what I could see in the Scriptures, He was quite tough on those who worked for Him. After finally giving Abraham a son, God orders the old man to sacrifice him. Sure, the Lord relented, but it couldn’t have been easy on Abraham’s well-worn ticker. Moses after enduring the roller coaster ride of 40 years in the desert with the ever-ready-to-gripe Israelites, didn’t even get to go into the promised land. Job was the model disciple when Satan, with the permission of the Lord, unleashed a little bit of Hades on earth against Job and his family. I won’t go into the prophets and the martyrs, etc.
Consequently, I must confess that my inner Jonah, like the biblical one, is ready to run rather than serve God. Borrowing words from the old tune: My lips tell him “Yes, Yes,” but there’s “No, No,” in my feet. Since I’m not a card-carrying prophet like our so-called hero, I suppose I can slink away through that loophole. Unfortunately, in my weak moments, I may be foolish enough to ask the Father to use me. This can be as perilous as praying for humility.
Perhaps my biblical fugitive counterpart and I share the same two unsaintly show-stoppers. First is a kind of spiritual amnesia, which is a fancy way of saying that I have a tendency to forget who it is I owe for all the blessings that I have. Complementary with that shortcoming, is the concern that God doesn’t have my back, that I will find myself in the words of that ever-popular funeral Psalm “in the valley of the shadow of death,” fearing evil. Admittedly, it is a batty belief that God loves me enough to create me, love me, and bless me, but not enough to support me in time of trial.
For both the scriptural Jonah and my own personal version of the reluctant prophet, it is likely an ego problem. Are we both not humanoidal? Do we not seek to maximize pleasure and minimize pain? Do we not want to do the Boss’ job even though our resume shows a profound lack of qualifications? Fundamentally, isn’t our primary burning desire to do whatever we want with no disturbing consequences?
Us two Jonahs also share an additional impious impediment: chronic complaining. It’s a wonder the name Jonah didn’t become synonymous with whiner, considering his performance after the great Ninevite renewal. As for me, his modern twin, no one can find more displeasure in pleasure than I can. It is not uncommon for me to stroll knee deep in blessings and stub my toe on an annoyance. Instead of magnifying the Lord and his works, I am usually looking through the wrong end of the binoculars and grumbling over my share of good fortune.
And like my prophetic counterpart, I will stomp off, finding more reason to rant, spouting melodramatic declarations that my life is over, but not before I conjure up more unrighteous indignation to leave as a lasting memory for my own Ninevites who will undoubtedly breathe a sigh of relief to be rid of me. Suitably, as in the book of J, God will get the last word.
What is the answer to all this Jonahic tribulation I experience in my walk through the world? It is Lent. Lent is turning back from flight and coming out from under the shade plant to embrace the struggle. This penitential season allows me to express sorrow for my sins with the consolation that there are others battling with themselves, seeking the same intimacy with the source of all universal power and mercy.
Let me attempt to heal my inner Jonah, as I stand in my own denizen of the deep, and cry out to my Maker a prayer borne of deep physical and spiritual hunger:
Cleanse me, Lord, through my meager sacrifices, and let me know that you know that I am yours.
