My little 3-year-old is fascinated right now with "role-playing" the Bible stories that she hears. She will play the part of Jonah while I am assigned to "The Fish" --although she assures me that her Dad's fish re-enactment is more convincing than mine :-).
I've been thinking about the prophet Jonah lately. A 2-part series of excellent messages given by apologist and teacher Ravi Zacharias on the book of Jonah deeply spoke to my heart over this past summer (I'm hoping to share more about that later) and the Pastor at the church that we've been attending addressed him in a sermon as well that was really insightful and excellent.
But something somewhat unrelated to the sermons that I heard on the book of Jonah struck me over the past few weeks -- after my daughter and I had been discussing the story of Jonah -- his rebellion, repentance, subsequent obedience, and then sullen pouting over the Lord's mercy upon Ninevah.
That the Lord didn't send a shark.
He didn't send a shark; He sent a "great fish." He sent something huge and frightening and eye-opening and confining, but He didn't send something consuming and terminating.
He knew Jonah's heart. He knew his fear and his stubbornness, and the deep feelings of resentment that Jonah harbored toward a people who had committed such atrocities against the surrounding nations and against his own. He knew Jonah's heart, understood it, and yet, still required obedience. And He still held compassion for the Ninevite people -- even their animals.
He sent a great fish, something that swallowed Jonah up and caused him to take a hard look at his rebellion and stubbornness and to cry out to God in the midst of it all. And serve as a picture of Jesus Christ, resurrected from the dead.
Jonah was resurrected from the dead. The death of a hard place. The death of an impossible situation. And in a strange paradox, he experienced the death of self -- of having no other place to turn except to God in repentance and humility and trust and surrender.
We serve a merciful Father. He could have put Jonah "on the shelf," so to speak. He could have let Jonah go his own way and called someone else to do Jonah's job. He could have sent a shark. He could have allowed Jonah to drown in the pressing, unyielding waves.
Instead, he relentlessly pursued Jonah, with a storm, with a fish, with a hot searing wind, with faintness.
He pursued Jonah; he engaged his heart and his intellect and his reason.
He pursued Jonah; He sent a fish.
When He could have sent a shark. He could have poured out His wrath upon the rebellious prophet -- He could have displayed His power and authority to one little Jewish man who dared to question His judgement and authority.
He could have consumed Jonah.
But instead He sent a fish, a great fish. He stopped Jonah from running and put him in a place where he had to listen and cry out to God.
Sometimes we find ourselves figuratively, in the belly of a fish; God has put us there. We are in a place where nothing is left to us but to cry out to God. And we think for a moment that we are being consumed. But we're not. We're receiving His mercy. And the place that seems like a tomb of death is really the instrument of our deliverance.
I read a story, a long time ago now, about a naturalist who was documenting the survival of a flock of juncos (snowbirds) in a harsh winter. She was to record what happened to the juncos over the course of an extremely cold night in blizzard conditions. The temperature dipped well below freezing and the little birds were fighting for their survival. She was not allowed to intervene in any way while she was documenting over the course of the assigned hours.
The woman struggled not to intervene as she watched the little birds. One junco especially caught her attention; he seemed weaker than the rest. The wind howled and the night grew dark. The little flock flew into a bush as the snow fell hard and deep. The woman felt overwhelmed and finally went to bed, despairing of what would happen to them, especially the weak little junco who had gained her sympathy.
In the morning she flew to the window and beheld the world covered in a thick encrusting of snow. She felt that the juncos could not have survived such conditions until, all of a sudden, the bush where they had flown into the night before, covered completely in a thick layer of snow, literally burst open.
The snow from the blizzard had actually kept them warm, provided them a shelter from the frigid cold and preserved their lives. The snow that appeared to be the enemy had actually given them protection and warmth in the midst of the storm. It had been their salvation. (The woman records that then she joyfully threw out handfuls of seed to the birds; she was no longer recording and was so glad that they had survived, especially the weak little junco).
At times, we think that God has put us in a confining, fearful place -- but that place is actually our salvation -- the situation is actually the catalyst to our surrender and dependence upon Him. We think that we will be consumed; instead we are saved and given renewed vision to accomplish His will.
In our "tomb of death," we receive life--and our confinement becomes a sanctuary to quiet our hearts and to hear the voice of God.
He is merciful. In Him, we are not consumed. Our difficulties become places of deliverance and where it looks like there is no hope, an empty shore awaits us and the grace to preach His Gospel in and through it all.
He sends the great fish; He rescues and delivers. In the unexpected place, He gives His grace and salvation.
And we, like Jonah, are not consumed.
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