That Holy Whisper
“I will place him in the safety for which he longs,” echoes the Master in the twelfth psalm. And this right on the heels of a word about the poor being plundered and the needy groaning. And so I’m reminded–suddenly–of all those moments when my spirit feels plundered by the world’s travails, when my soul groans like a dying man. How willing I am to know of my plights. And yet, do I listen to that holy whisper that tells me of safety; that divine word that lets me know the Master has heard?
Who Will Come Through?
There is a disappointing moment (among many) in the whole Jonah narrative in which the runaway prophet gives a glimpse as to why he is in fact running away. It is sewn into the drama unfoldling on the top of that ancient Phoenician bireme, in the midst of a terrifying tempest, wherein seasoned mariners are questioning Jonah regarding from whence such a tortuous storm has come. Telling them that he has run away from Yahweh (as if this is really a simple matter), Jonah proceeds to declare, “Pick me up and hurl me into the sea; then the sea will quiet down for you, for I know it is because of me that this great tempest has come upon you.”
“But is that not a noble exhortation?” one might ask. After all, he clearly recognizes that he is the problem. Why should he not then ask to be removed from the boat, expecting, of course, that such a removal would cause the storm to cease its raging?
Perhaps because among those profoundly selfish moments recorded in the ancient Hebrew book bearing his name, this is among the worst, for by making the request Jonah is seeking to burden the sailors with his very life; putting the responsibility of his expected death upon them; sparing himself the weight of the decision. “Pick me up and hurl me into the sea,” he says. But could he not run to the rail and leap into it himself? And for that matter, did he have to go overboard at all? Could he not have simply fallen to his knees, cried out to God, and confessed his obstinance?
And that is why it reveals what may be the primary reason Jonah is running. He is absolutely determined to avoid bearing any responsibility that has to do with the souls of men–even his own. Let someone else bear the brunt of earth’s dilemmas. Let another go to Nineveh. Let another pay the price (the storm–brought on by Jonah’s disobedience–prompted the sailors to hurl the goods of others into the sea to lighten the ship). Let these sailors bear the burden for life or death. Indeed, Jonah is suggesting that he be allowed to simply die–petitioning them to kill him; this, of course, being the ultimate escape.
Escape. Passing the responsibility on to another. Running. O, to appoach life so differently than this!
Should you watch television tonight, especially a sports channel, you may well take in a riveting commercial put out by Gatorade, in which some of our greatest sports icons–people like Peyton Manning or Maria Sharapova–are shown rising to the occasion to achieve victory while the eyes of the whole world watch. It is a beautifully done, quite dramatic bit of narrative; and threaded into it is a masterful question: “When all seems lost . . . with the whole world watching . . . who will come through?” [Click here to watch the commercial]
Of course, one cannot help but watch such stars in the clutch and think, “I’d like to come through . . . I’d like to be the one who succeeds.”
But then the reality sets in and the cost becomes apparent and the goals seem greater than can possibly be managed. And at that point many of us decide it is better to sit or sleep or ignore or watch from the living room or, as with Jonah, run away. Let someone else have the responsibility. Let another have the burden. Just pick me up and hurl me into the sea.
And though it may well be good that I remain in my recliner and let Peyton Manning be the star of the gridiron or Maria Sharapova the heroine of the court, I can justify that because it is, well, sports.
But life is not a sport, despite what the advertisements say, and connecting with the souls of men is not just a game wherein the clock may run out or the weather may be inclement or the refs may make a bad call. Frankly, loving God and my neighbor is hard, it takes work, it costs things, and it can really hurt like crazy. Especially if the neighbor looks like a Ninevite.
But if you and I cannot rise to it, go toward it, pursue it with vigor, then who will? Especially when the eyes of our children or are coworkers or our friends or our mates or our enemies or simple perfect strangers are looking . . . watching . . . waiting . . . on someone . . . anyone . . . to stand tall and make a difference and, well, change their world.
When all seems lost . . . with the whole world watching . . . who will come through?
Could it be . . . you?