Jonah was likely a very great prophet. I dare say that among all
the prophet-judges of the era, he was exceptionally skilled at his job.
He walks into town, and people smile and cheer. The Israelites supported
him, appreciated him, and he felt like he could tackle anything,
however unexpected, that could ever happen there.
Of course,
as a prophet he would know that it was not his merit that had filled his
life with such grace and blessing. He recognizes that it is God who
delights to give good gifts to His children.
He's looking forward to another week of wonderful work that is almost more rewarding with every effort he exerts into it.
Then God says, "Go to Nineveh."
Jonah asks, "Really, God? Are you sure? Well... It's just for a few days, right?"
And God says, "I will let you know."
Jonah shrugs; for the sake of this story, he hasn't really heard much about Nineveh. How bad could it be?
Jonah's Journal:
Day
1—Oh dear God, this is not what I signed up for. Did you see the
authorities having to arrest an unruly man? How can anybody spend six
hours just screaming? It scares me that every "house" I have visited so
far has a huge dent in the wall—big enough for a person's foot or head
sometimes! God, all I can do is sit here. I can't even talk to these
people. It's like we don't speak the same language. I am just a
placeholder. Can I go back to working in Israel tomorrow?
Day
2—Seriously, God? You want two more days? I could cry right now. This
is a waste of the gifts you gave me. Yeah, sure, I have started teaching
again... Trying to... Out of boredom, more than anything. Still, God,
if I wanted to be the resident preacher in Nineveh, I think I would have
asked to be sent here, right? I simply cannot see how in the world I
can be the least bit effective, and definitely not as effective as I was
back in Israel. In Israel, I could give the people answers and they
would listen and heed; in Nineveh, the people not only do not trust me,
they don't trust anybody but themselves! Like the person who was
convinced that following my advice would get him into trouble, or the
one who was so convicted about absolutely nothing that he spent the
entire day wailing about how sorry he was and would not hear any
encouragement to the contrary! God, I can still hear his cries in my
head! This is doing nothing for my sanity or my usefulness. Don't you
want me to be useful, God?
Day 3—Okay, all
right, fine. This has gotta be the last day, right? I am back to just
sitting. Good grief, it has been a hard day. So many intense fights!
People screaming at each other—how can they think that this behavior is
okay? In what universe does screaming and cussing out the other person
get what you want? These people have no concept of cause and effect, no
desire to behave well. I have stayed this long, Lord; doesn't that count
for something? Can I be done now?
Day 4—This
is not the sort of work I should be getting paid for. Please just send
me back to Israel! Just for one day! I miss it, God! I know that I have
been filling in where all they need is an extra body... But God, I never
intended to just be "an extra body." Surely You understand that I am
worth more than that! Today was especially hard because I hear the
Israelites are asking about me. And I was so looking forward to
celebrating with them tomorrow! God, this is Your last chance, okay?
Please let me go back! Today was just AWKWARD.
Day
5—Wow, a whole week has gone. It has been really hard, God. But today
wasn't so bad after all. And I see that You weren't trying to purge me
of anything or chastise me for a fault of some sort that incurred my
week-long stay in Nineveh. All I had to do, God, was be willing to
function on Your timetable. Because I really don't know for sure whether
suddenly I will show up to work and there's no message for Israel,
You're sending me somewhere else. The point is to pour just as much
investment and energy no matter where I am working, because my
professional responsibility is still the same level. Thank You, God, for
the opportunity to learn that.
<<<<<>>>>>
In case you
were wondering, yes—this whole scenario is a reflection and allegory for
my own week in "educational Nineveh"—a place I would never volunteer to
go at any point in my career, a place where learning is just an
annoying thing that the staff is trying to force upon kids whose every
thought is toward playtime and pleasure.
From first grade to twelfth,
not a one of them seemed to consider actually getting smart and having a
career as a viable goal. They all had mental, psychological, or behavior disorders that required medication. Their only thought was "survive the day at any
cost." Why waste one's life trying to figure out what costal landforms
were valuable to eighteenth-century traders? That is not survival
skills. Why do math? It just keeps getting more difficult, and that's
why we have calculators, right?
All the "incidents" described above are
references to actual student behaviors. It was dragging, it was
polar-opposite to the job I wanted to do... But at the same time, it was
still work, and my presence—however inept—was still very much
appreciated and filled a need that no one else apparently had a mind to.
And I dare say I might have enjoyed some moments at some points during
the week. All by the grace of the same God who gives me grace for a
"normal" workday. I am still myself, no matter where I am working, and
He is still Himself. I can still give it my best and depend on Him to
direct the events of the day.
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