In the story of Jonah, we meet our most reluctant prophet – so reluctant that he hops on a boat and sails across the sea in the opposite direction of what God is calling him to do. Jonah is called to go to Nineveh and declare to them that their abundant wickedness has gotten God’s attention. Nineveh is the capital city of Assyria, a monstrous empire who is a plague to the Israelites. Jonah is appointed by God to bring a message to this plague of a city. And this prophetic task is so repulsive to Jonah that he attempts to run as far away from it as possible. Of course, that doesn’t work (enter: big fish to swallow Jonah whole). Jonah resists this calling so vehemently because he suspects that God’s merciful, forgiving love will win out and the Ninevites won’t get the epic punishment that Jonah thinks they deserve. Sure enough, that’s exactly what happens. Nineveh repents and God relents. Jonah’s story doesn’t end on a happy note, at least not from the main character’s point of view, but ends with the prophet expressing his disapproval of God’s ever-dependable eagerness to show mercy to Israel’s enemies. But God gets the last word, or, the last question. Is Jonah right to feel the way he feels?
God loves our enemies. God loves the people that we don’t love. God loves and cares for the people who anger us the most, and who scare us the most. God is eager to love and bless those who oppose the Church. God is eager to love and redeem America’s enemies. God’s redeeming love is reaching into every place where our love will not.
How do we feel about that? Does that bother us like it bothers Jonah? Surely he’s not the only one, is he?
Have you ever been angry enough, hurt enough, afraid enough, that you just weren’t ready yet to start talking about forgiveness? Have you ever remembered some hurt years after the fact, and possibly re-opened a wound in doing so, realizing that maybe you hadn’t forgiven as much as you thought you had? When these wounds that have been inflicted upon you are fresh or re-opened later, how are you feeling about the God who is gracious and merciful, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love and ready to relent from punishing? How hard would you resist the pull of God to enter into a new chapter of mercy and forgiveness toward your enemies? Would you hop on a boat and sail across the sea in the opposite direction?
Or, in the story of Jonah, are you feeling something liberating? Something inviting? Something giving you the much-needed permission to finally let go of some bitterness and resentment? If Jonah’s story is bringing to mind for you someone who has hurt you, who has made life hard for you, someone who has created a lot of fear in your life, can you hear the voice of God saying to you as he said to Jonah, “Should I not love them and care for them, too?” Are you open to hearing God ask you this question? Does any part of you want to go back to Obadiah, where the people who cause the most pain are given a decisively harsh word of judgment?
Did you know that Jonah is one of just two books in the Bible that ends with a question? It’s like Jonah’s story wants to haunt us, to bury a question within us that we won’t answer the same way every time it’s asked of us. “Should God not love and care for the people that hurt us, too?”
God loves our enemies. How do we feel about that?
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