Anyone who grew up in the Church and went to Sunday
school on a regular basis likely knows the story of Jonah. At least they know
the story of Jonah’s initial disobedience, the storm, the fish, and Nineveh’s
repentance. Interestingly, at least from my recollection, there is not a lot of attention given to chapter 4 of Jonah. But we dare not forget how the book of Jonah ends. Quite simply,
the book ends without any real resolution and it presents the prophet…well, in
a less than favorable light. Furthermore, the manner in which the book ends
demands that anyone who has a history of following God take inventory of themselves and
ask, “Am I Jonah?” This is what makes me squirm.
The opening of Jonah presents something of an elusive atmosphere. According to
Jonah 1:1, we are merely told that Jonah is the son of Amittai. Jonah does make
another appearance in the Old Testament, 2 Kgs 14:23-27, and this actually
turns out to be informative. There, one reads how the prophet gave a positive
word to Israel during the reign of Jeroboam II. What is critical is that
Jeroboam II’s reign represents the point in which the northern kingdom reached
its geographic apex. Soon, the Neo-Assyrian Empire would move to suffocate the
entire Levant on its way to Egypt, eventually overrunning Israel in the
process. In other words, after Jeroboam II, Israel continually shrinks under
the pressure of Neo-Assyria.
Yet perhaps the most elusive component to the opening
verses of Jonah is why Jonah chooses to run away from his divine appointed
task. Think about this for a second. Jonah is a prophet, whose job it is to
proclaim God’s word, and we are told in 1:2 that the content of the message
will spell doom for Nineveh. Why then does Jonah run the other way? Logic
suggests this to be an opportunity that he should have embraced. An opportunity
to predict the downfall of one’s historic enemies is, however, rejected
emphatically. Was the prophet afraid of the Ninevites or concerned for his well
being?
Ultimately, we find that Jonah was afraid all right, but he was afraid of how God
was going to respond if the people of Nineveh repented. Jonah declares in 4:2 as
a response to the Lord’s decision to relent from his judgment, “O Lord! Is
not this what I said while I was still in my own country? That is why I fled to
Tarshish at the beginning; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful,
slow to anger, and abounding in steadfast love, and ready to repent from
perishing” (NRSV). You see, Jonah knew that
there was a possibility of salvation, and this deeply troubled him. He knew the
character of God, which meant the possibility that Nineveh would be spared, and
he chose to do what he could to prevent this potential turn of events. This, by
itself, is a terrible indictment of the prophet. What is more, Jonah boldly
proclaims in 4:3 that he would rather die than see Nineveh survive for one more
day.
Jonah goes on to repeat his desire for
death two more times in chapter 4, and this recurrence is intertwined with a
series of questions and lessons designed to get the prophet and the reader
thinking. Firstly, God asks in v. 4, “Is it right for you to be angry?” The
text does not offer an audible response, only the prophet’s retreat to outside
the city with the intention of seeing what would happen to the city. Such a
response smacks of bitterness and childishness. Does Jonah think that if
he pouts enough God will change his mind again (cf. 3:10) and bring destruction
upon the city? Second, God sends a bush to comfort Jonah, and he then sends a
worm to destroy the bush and a scorching wind to torment the prophet. Here we
read of the final two occurrences of the prophet’s request to die. In fact, the
third, and final, request to die (4:9) represents the concluding words of the
prophet. Such a sad, tragic conclusion.
Yet Jonah’s bitter request are not the
final words of the book.
Then the Lord said, “You are concerned about the bush, for which you
did not labor and which you did not grow; it came into being in a night and
perished in a night. And should I not be concerned about Nineveh, that great
city, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand persons who do
not know their right hand from their left, and also many animals?”
With these
words, we see that the bush symbolizes divine mercies given to us. God is
essentially saying, “So, you are concerned solely with the mercies that I give you—without any consideration of
my character. You are concerned with the “good” that I give you, and when that
goes away you feel that you have been slighted in some way…that I am unfair.
You want a one-way street. Yet you get ticked and cry “unfair” when I choose to
offer that same grace, mercy, and salvation to people you perceive to be
unworthy and beyond salvation merely because of who they are and whence they
came. How does that make any sense?”
What is so
sobering for me—and this is what makes me squirm—is that Jonah’s sour attitude
tends to resonate more with people who have a history of walking with God.
Jonah was a prophet who had a history with serving the Lord (cf. 2 Kgs 14). As
such, he had formulated assumptions and perceptions—all of which grew out of
his experiences. We do the same thing. However, Jonah's problem was that he was not able to let new
insights tweak his perception(s) so that they would fall in line with divine
intentions. What is more, he fought any recalibration with tenacity.
Ultimately,
there are questions that we need to ask ourselves.
1.
Do our assumptions about God and his actions carry the day? Are we so
convinced how things should be that we out right reject any spiritual
recalibration?
2.
Do we get angry with God when his actions seem to cut against what we
believe is right or think is fair?
3.
Do we have a problem with our enemies being offered the same gracious
salvation that we have accepted?
If we answer
“yes” to any of these questions, then—at some level—we are Jonah.
