Good old Jonah!

Monday, September 18th, 2017

I like Jonah. You know the story? God instructs Jonah, up, go to Ninevah. Tell the people If they don’t mend their wicked ways, they will be destroyed.

But Jonah won’t go to that dangerous place. He boards a ship in another direction, and runs into a storm. He’s the cause of the storm and is tossed overboard to be swallowed by a whale.

After three days the whale vomits him onto the shore and he goes to Ninevah. Of course, he thinks the people there are unredeemable but the big destruction doesn’t happen. His message is received and the people are forgiven.

Scholars say Jonah didn’t exist and his story is a parable. But Jonah is real. There are millions of Jonahs in this world and I am one of them, grateful for the company.

The Biblical Jonah brings a certain lightness to living that helps us laugh at the silly arguments we have with God.

Do you want a recent example?

I recognize the inner voice, and it is strong; Up – and go to Ninevah!

Not Ninevah again! I know what that means. It’s two hours through road works and traffic to see someone who doesn’t want to see me.

Chances are, she won’t even open the door, and if she does she’ll eye me with suspicion and ask me what I want.

So I won’t go. It’s my only free day this week, and I’d prefer to spend time at the bird sanctuary where I’ll find God in the dense bush and the song of the tui.

Except the day is heavy with rain, sheets of water washing away plans for the sanctuary.

This is like Jonah’s storm at sea. Ninevah, says the voice, and I shut it down. Anything but Ninevah! Instead I’ll do some shopping, a few things I need for the house.

The road hisses with wetness and the frantic wipers barely clear the windscreen. I turn into the store’s carpark. Directly in front of me is a large vehicle that suddenly stops in the entrance.

Instinctively, I swerve to the left. I miss the back of the van but hit a metal barrier that crunches the front of my car.

This has to be Jonah’s whale!

About a week later, I collect the car from the panel beaters, and drive to Ninevah. It is not done with grace. My prayer is a grumpy, “Whatever happened to free will?” But God has heard this complaint many times, and the answer is a feeling of soft, loving laughter.

So here I am at Ninevah.

She is sitting at the kitchen table set with two cups and saucers and some Anzac biscuits on a floral plate. She is much thinner than when I last saw her. Her eyes have an intense brightness.

“I was hoping to see you,” she says with her usual directness. “I’m dying.”

So that’s how Ninevah happened, and no doubt will keep on happening. People like us mean well but we don’t change and often have to be pushed.

We thank God for the story of Jonah!