I just ate about a half of a jar of salsa for lunch. Sad. Wouldn’t have been my pre-allergy-diet choice, but it was good, nonetheless. Yesterday, I was Jonah. I found myself grumbling around about something I didn’t want to do, because I shouldn’t have to do it. There are people –let’s call them Ninevites– that don’t always do what they should, even when they know what they should do. So I was gripey and frustrated about this, though it began to seem obvious that God was calling me to take up some slack. I tried to run to Tarshish. Truthfully, I’d still rather run there than change my attitude. Sad. Sadder than jars of salsa for lunch.
I’ve always thought Jonah was such a jerk. He didn’t want to save souls, after all. He was telling God no. Somehow I convince myself that what I do is less offensive because it’s smaller scale and because I haven’t been directly approached by God and haven’t been able to directly and officially tell him no. But it’s the same thing. God’s message to Jonah was that He cared about Ninevah, even if they had gotten themselves into that mess. Even if they hadn‘t really tried to pull themselves out. Yet. They deserved Jonah’s effort and compassion.
My Father’s message to me is the same. In my frustration, am I not essentially saying that I’ll serve God here, not there? And on my terms, not His? Let’s hope I can make this sink without the intervention of a large fish.