Prayers From Jonah

God of the Universe. 

I apologize for swearing the last time we spoke. I understand that I must hold these conversations to a standard greater than myself.

The truth, God, is that I am an impossibly weak man. I am weak in all the ways that matter most. I am weak to temptation, I am weak to pride, and I am weak to self control. And it is because of this weakness that I find myself cracking every mirror I find myself looking upon. I numb the pain that comes from the shattered glass with an endless stream of everything possible. Good news, bad news, loud noise, impossible silence. Meaningless discourse about the state of the world that I use to harm myself without using a blade. And this constant numbing makes me weaker than I was before, so yes I am a weak man. 

Perhaps the truth that makes me this weak is my insistence that I can stomach the weight of the world on my own. Your ministry on Earth revolved almost exclusively on the idea that we are made strong through our relationships, first with yourself, then with the others around us. Yet I live in the constant fear that the weakness and pain will shatter these relationships, rather than grow stronger. This is because I am a cruel person, one who tires from having people come to me with their own burdens. When I am given the opportunity to pull someone else out of their gutter, I instead turn away and focus on myself. The reality is that as I whine and complain about my problems, even now, I do this, often to the people I care about. 

So, if I am too cruel and selfish of a person that I dread the idea of loving my own neighbor, why should I be deserving of my neighbor’s love for me? And more importantly, why should I ask for a reprieve from the all powerful Jehovah-Rapha if I am cruel in this way? Perhaps, then, this is a fitting world that I live in. A world with ceaseless, monotonous noise from places I don’t want to hear from, and absolute silence from the ones that I do. 

In short, I have a hard time loving myself, sin and all. And because of that disdain I do not attempt to reach my hand out from the sinking ship and rather find myself sinking into the Sea, without a door to float on and only the icy waters to sink into. 

I find my mind is a boat in the ocean, constantly creating cracks that must be patched up. And on that boat is a creature who I ignore. It is a small, furry thing with a bushy tail and bulbous cheeks. And it has the task of scouring throughout the entire boat, plugging holes into the cracks that form around it. It does so with truth: truth it has gained throughout its life. Sometimes, when the creature speaks, its truth shudders over my back, and it seals the crack it was formed out of. Other times, the creature will speak and the crack will deepen, releasing more of the torrential ocean water and swiping the creature away. I often ignore the furry beast, not because it intends to hurt me, but because of the fear I have whenever it opens its mouth. And so I ignored the one thing that was trying to patch my boat together. 

I did this until one day, where I was out on the sea. The beast was patching holes in the boat when I found myself gazing at the water, hoping I may be ignored long enough to plunge into the depths once more. And in that moment, as I stared into the sea, I could see two large eyes staring back at me. And before I knew it, a beast even greater than the one in my boat emerged from the depths. Its eyes were cold and unfeeling, and it had scales and fins that shimmered from the reflection of the sun upon the water. And the fish opened its gaping mouth and swallowed me whole. 

I couldn’t breathe, and I could hardly move. If I were to move any bit, the acids that made up its stomach were sure to swallow me whole. My boat was completely fractured, sizzling under the fish’s horrible gullet. 

And I thought to myself that this was a fitting punishment for one like myself. One who appears so holy, yet crumbles under the weight of their own flesh. Perhaps this is a fitting world that I live in now, where the noise of the acid is ceaseless and relentless and the silence of everything else is unbearable. And I thought of all the choices that led me to this moment: the doubts, the pride, the arrogance, the shame. Perhaps if I invested in a larger boat, or a competent crew, or tracked the weather better I would have known that great fish come out at this time of year. 

And perhaps if I had chosen to go to Nineveh in the first place, I would never have met the fish at all.  

“Why are you afraid?”

The voice called out in the belly of the beast. I turned and found the smaller creature had followed me within. Its small claws are set atop a plank of wood, and its sharp, black eyes gaze at me, creating a light that should be impossible in this dark stomach. And it asks me again:

“Why are you afraid?”

“Creature, we are in the belly of a beast. I have every right to be afraid. And even if we were to leave by some miracle, the boat that is our safe passage will never be how it once was. We will surely die.”

And the creature responded:

“Where is your faith, Jonah?”

Around us, a plank of wood sinks into the stomach acid, and the sizzle is the only thing that echoes in this hellish place. 

“Faith has no place in the lungs of those who God turns away from.”

The small, furry thing looked upon me. And you said:

“Jonah, I have been with you every moment.”

And I froze. For the truth had washed over me, and a crack was healed. And in that moment I found myself truly looking upon the squirrel, and seeing your face within it: and inescapable truth of love and salvation. And I began to cry. 

The truth, God, is that I am an incredibly weak man. I am weak in all the ways that matter most. And yet, in my weakness, you are both the squirrel and the fish, repairing my wounds with you undeniable truth and bringing me exactly where I must go. And that truth is what allows me to be strong, for you and the noise around me. 

So I pray now to receive those gifts again, Lord. As I find myself departing to the seas again, repair the raft I find myself on, and let the winds guide me to where you desire. And more than all these things, let the love you have for me be echoed through every row, every wave, and every storm. 

Amen.