Waiting for joy

Rejoice in the Lord always,
again I will say, rejoice.

These days, I've been learning to pick up my sword (and boy, is it heavy), fighting to rejoice.

People like to make a distinction between happiness and joy. They claim that happiness is all about the exterior, superficial and fleeting, whereas joy comes from deep within, and thus somehow more spiritual, superior, and forever. Or something like that.

I am not convinced.

First, I see no such distinction in the Bible. I see no "inner joy" in Scripture. Joy shouts, and sings, and it's loud. That sounds a lot like happiness to me.

Second, I don't know how joy and happiness would look any different in the eyes of my children. When mommy is happy, she is joyful. When mommy is joyful, she is happy. And when she is not, well, she's not.

I know I am not required  to be (and I don't want to be) a chirpy, upbeat, sugary-sweet-optimist kind of a mother. But I do want to be gentle, cheerful, compassionate, patient, and kind. And it's really hard to be these things when I am not joyful.

So, how am I to rejoice—always, in my soul and with my lips—even when I don't feel like it?

I want to fight, so badly, but I don't know my weapons. Sometimes, I don't even know my enemies. I am desperate to find some answers. So, I've been scouring the Scripture for passages on joy, rejoicing, happiness — what it looks like, when it happens, and particularly, what is the cause of joy.

I still have not figured it out, but here are some thoughts thus far.

1. Happiness flows out of right worship.

The distinction is not so much between the so-called joy and the so-called happiness, but the real difference lies in the object of my worship. Whom am I worshiping?

So often, the source of my joy is also the cause of my fears and worries. What I regard to be the source of joy becomes an idol in my life, whether it is my goals, my space, my schedule, an orderly house, my children's health, their education, their happiness, my family's approval of me, my husband's happiness, his affection — whatever it is. When the pedestals of my idols are threatened, when I feel that I may lose them, fear and anxiety are sure to follow.

So when I am discouraged or fearful or worried, when I have no joy, the thing to do is not to force myself to be happy (it doesn't work! I've tried it). What I need to do is to shift the object of my worship. I need to stop looking to my idols for hope and salvation, and fix my eyes on the cross.


2. Happiness is the response of those who are no longer afraid.
(Psalms 27; 31:7; Isaiah 41:14-16; 42:5-13)

Fear is such an obstacle to joy. When I find myself discouraged or anxious, it is helpful to ask myself what is it that I fear, or why am I afraid? Then, I would ask myself, is my Lord bigger than these fears?

The battle is often not a fight against my circumstances, but it is a fight to see the Lord for who he is. My Lord who calmed the sea and quieted the storm, fed the thousands, healed the sick, raised the dead. My Lord who created everything out of nothing, laid down his life, and reign over death and sin and me with mercy and compassion.

This Lord. Does he know? Can he see? Is he bigger than this fear that grips my soul?

Yes. Praise be to God. He is.


3. Happiness follows repentance.
(Psalm 32-33)

Whether it be with my husband or my children, tremendous relief and gratitude follows when they forgive me for the wrongs I have done. Such liberty is found after being bound up in my own little world of guilt, remorse, and self-justifications. Happiness is when I am able to come up to the surface and breathe again, knowing that they have forgiven me, that they still love me and want me.

This is all the more true with God. He always forgives. He always forgets. And his love is unchanging.


4. Happiness comes to those who dwell in the Word.
(Psalm 1; 119; Joshua 1)

The Father has given us the Word. He has given us instructions on how we may receive grace. If we do not place ourselves in the way of grace, it must be because we don't want grace.

Meditate on the Word day and night. Live there. Let that world become our reality. Let that world define how we perceive this world.

The point is this: I saw more clearly than ever, that the first great and primary business to which I ought to attend every day was, to have my soul happy in the Lord. The first thing to be concerned about was not, how much I might serve the Lord, how I might glorify the Lord; but how I might get my soul into a happy state, and how my inner man might be nourished. For I might seek to set the truth before the unconverted, I might seek to benefit believers, I might seek to relieve the distressed, I might in other ways seek to behave myself as it becomes a child of God in this world; and yet, not being happy in the Lord, and not being nourished and strengthened in my inner man day by day, all this might not be attended to in a right spirit

Autobiography of George Mueller, compiled by Fred Bergen, (London: J. Nisbet Co., 1906), 152-154.

5. Happiness is gift—for which we fight.

Joy is a fruit of the Spirit. The work is ours—to water, to pull out the weeds, to guard our hearts, but it is the Lord who makes the garden grow. We cannot attain happiness on our own, yet we must strive after it with our entire being.

In order to receive joy, we must keep ourselves in the way of joy. Like many promises in Scripture, we must seek ye first, and it shall be given. Work out your salvation with fear and trembling, for it is God who works in you. Pursue wisdom, for the Lord gives wisdom.

Sometimes, joy comes. Sometimes, it doesn't. So while it is night, we weep, we mourn, we sing in the dark. For the nights, too, come from God.

We sit, and we wait. For joy comes in the morning. We wait in meditation and repentance, with prayer and worship. Thankfully, faithfulness is not measured by fruitfulness.

We remain in the way of joy. So when the Savior passes us by, we would recognize him. We would be ready to receive him.

Here is the link to a follow-up post, Sorrowful, yet Always Rejoicing.

An obligatory picture of my happiest baby. His joy is contagious.

Photo credit: Vivian Wu! Thank you for a happy day in your garden. =)

Meanwhile, I keep dancing

I came across this quote some time ago in a book on writing: "I get up. I walk. I fall down. Meanwhile, I keep dancing."

Cooking and writing. These are my dance steps.

After I gave birth to Emeth, I did not return to the kitchen for weeks. One evening, I walked into the kitchen and prepared some salmon. At that moment, I started breathing again. A light flickered at the end of the tunnel.

Today is one of those tunnel days.

Now, I can either wallow in my incompetence and insufficiency, or, I can dance.

I choose to dance. And I invite you to dance with me.

I am going to dance about how I read my Bible.

(Was that a yawn?!)

I know, it doesn't sound spectacular, but it is.

For months and months Hans encouraged me write down the things I am learning in my readings. But like always, it takes me awhile to do what he asks of me. My (bad) excuse is that I have so little time. Writing things down would take so much longer. But, I finally decided to give his suggestion a try, and it made all the difference.

All I do is I read the verse, I paraphrase it in my own words, and I write it down.

Some days, I get through ten verses. Other days, I get through one. Not only am I better able to notice the details of the text, but I retain so much more of what I am reading. And as I retain what I am reading, I am better able to meditate on what I learned. And there is a bonus. Because writing is my dancing, I read with so much satisfaction. The Lord scribbles joy on my soul, as I scribble on the pages of my notebook.

In the Garden of Eden, Adam and Eve had the privilege to speak and listen to Yahweh face to face. They had immediate access to the fullness of his glory. At the Fall, humanity was expelled  from Yahweh's presence. Since then, and until Christ's return, communication and communion with God has not been and will not be the same.

In his mercy, Yahweh gave us his Word. This is how we can be near God: by mediating on his Word.

I walk. I lie down. I rise up. Meanwhile, I keep dancing.

Sometimes, I find him under my chair.

I am yours, save me

At the lowest point of our wedding planning, I laid on the floor of my apartment, face down, praying, chanting, "I am yours, save me. I am yours, save me." We were weighing the theological implications of a detail in the wedding liturgy. The decision was one among hundreds, but its implications were weighty.

We are the sum of our decisions. Thousand upon thousands of decisions, chiseling away at our souls, shaping our personhood. Every decision that I make today -- what I have for breakfast, which books I read to my children, every word I utter, how much time I sit, I stand, what I allow my eyes to see, the thoughts I allow in my mind, the minutes I waste -- they change me, little by little. With every decision, I am becoming and changing the person I will be tomorrow.

So, if you are wondering who you will grow up to be, look in the mirror. If you don't like what you see, change. Now. You are the sum of your decisions, including the ones you make today.

Our wedding day was the sum of many, many decisions. These decisions reflected who we were, what we loved, what we believed. If the wedding feast was a small world filled with our favorite things, the wedding liturgy was a space that embodied our theology of worship and marriage.

So, there I was, overwhelmed and defeated on the floor. I thought I was writing a wedding liturgy, but really, I was doing something so much bigger and I didn't even know it. I was forming my beliefs about God, worship, and marriage. I was asking big questions about timeless truths.

Figuring out our theology is hard, but living it out is even harder. Many throughout the history of the Church fought to their deaths for the sake of their creeds.

No, I did not die on my wedding day. Or did I?

My baby sister is getting married, and she is asking me questions about veils, songs, and such. These posts about weddings are my feeble attempts at helping her from a distance. So, here goes.

Big idea number one: This is worship.

Your wedding has an audience of one. Not two, not three, not two hundred. Just one. You have nothing to prove to anyone else. So, breathe.

A wedding ceremony is primarily a worship service, where a bride and a groom make vows to keep one another before God. Everything else is decoration.

Together, we respond to what God has done, what he is doing, what he will do. We give thanks, we praise, we surrender, we submit, we repent, we rejoice under the Lord's mighty hand. You have chosen to enter the front door of your happily ever after -- worshiping God. And this is an awesome thing.

Big idea number two: A Christian wedding proclaims the Gospel. A Christian wedding is about the Gospel. The bride and the groom point to something far, far greater than themselves. In the words of Apostle Paul: "'Therefore a man shall leave his father and mother and hold fast to his wife, and the two shall become one flesh.' This mystery is profound, and I am saying that it refers to Christ and the church."

Earthly marriages point to Christ and his bride. Christ proposed not on bended knees, but with outstretched arms. Not with a diamond ring, but with his shed blood for our sins. He died in our place.

Christ, the groom, is waiting for his bride. He is our bridal garment of righteousness. He has made the aisle upon which we shall walk. He will come again to take us away to be with him. He will be our new home. There, he will wipe away every tear from our eyes, and death shall be no more, neither shall there be mourning, nor crying, nor pain.

I am yours, save me.

He saved me then.
He saves me still.
He will save me again.

The prayer of a wise fool

I am weary, O God;
I am weary, O God,
and worn out.

When I read Proverbs 30 for the first time, I could hardly believe that the words were just — there, in the holy scripture, staring me in the face. I mean, how did he know? Agur, a stranger with a strange name gave words to the prayer my soul so desperately needed to pray.

Surely I am too stupid to be a man.
I have not the understanding of a man.
I have not learned wisdom,
nor have I knowledge of the Holy One.

It was strangely liberating to confess my stupidity. Though my version is so much less poetic. It usually goes something like this: "Dumb! Dumb! Dumb! Why am I so dumb?" Sometimes, the most truthful thing we can pray is simply, I don't know, Lord, I just don't know.

Who knew? The Word of God is so vast and so complete that it even has a chapter on "How to Pray on Days When You Feel Stupid and Tired: For Dummies." While the Psalms teach us how to weep over our iniquities and meaningless suffering, Agur gives us words for grey skies and a weary heart.

Here at the end of the magnum opus of Hebraic proverbs, Agur had nothing but a heavy sigh. He understood just how far short he measured from what was required of him. The chasm between life before God and life in the world can sometimes be overwhelming. The Bible is not a checklist of all the things we need to do in order to be saved. Rather, it is a mirror for us to see ourselves, in order that we may know how much we are in need of a Savior. So, Agur prayed — tired and empty.

But he doesn't stay there.

Who has ascended to heaven and come down?
Who has gathered the wind in his fists?
Who has wrapped up the waters in a garment?
Who has established all the ends of the earth?
What is his name?

Agur beckoned his soul to remember the creation, the greatness of his God. Suddenly, the frame of his vision was blown up. Agur's focus shifted — from the narrowness of his introspection to the vastness of nature, from his own limitations to Yahweh's limitless power.

Who is able to hold the hurricane captive in the palm of his hand? Yahweh. Who can contain the oceans in the fold of his garment? Yahweh. He speaks and the mountains obey. The height of the heaven is nothing to him.

Great is the Lord and most worthy of praise.

And then Agur asked,

what is the name of his son?

As Hanan, my two-year-old, would say, "Jesus!"

Wait, what?

Um... Isn't Proverbs in the Old Testament? Jesus wasn't born yet.
Who, then, was this son of Yahweh that Agur spoke of?

The relationship between father and son is the backbone of the book of Proverbs. Chapters 1 through 9 are instructions told in the voice of a father to his son. They are the foundation, the context, the setting of the entire book. The son is the recipient of the father's discipline and reproof, the one listening to his father's voice.

Yahweh is a father.  "The Lord reproves him whom he loves, as a father the son in whom he delights" (Prov 3:12). Therefore, whoever listens to Yahweh's voice and follows his way is a child of God.

Who, then, is the son of Yahweh? Who is his daughter?

You are, O weary soul.

"Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest."
(Matthew 11:28)

Here are my take-away points from Agur on "How to Pray on Days When You Feel Stupid and Tired: For Dummies."

1. Remember Yahweh
     a. Speak to him
     b. Beckon your soul to remember his power and his strength
2. Remember the nature of your relationship with this great and awesome God.

He is your father. He loves you and he delights in you.
And for our weary days, this is enough for us to live on.

My crooked belly, my crooked heart

I love Avis. She's like a big sister to me. She is also an awesome physical therapist. I had a severe backache when I was pregnant with Hanan. She made it go away. It was magical.

Recently, the pregnancy backache came back. Avis took one glance at me and knew right away that I was in pain. More importantly, she knew why I was in pain. "Of course your back is aching," she said, "you are carrying the baby on your right side." I have learned not to doubt her. But still, I asked: "How do you know that?!" She answered, "Because it is so obvious. Go home, look in the mirror, and you will see that your belly button is to the right side of your tummy."

Sure enough, she was right.

My belly is crooked, people!

How was it that I look at myself in the mirror everyday and not see that my entire torso was lopsided?! Like Avis said, it was so obvious.

I am that person in James 1 who looks at herself in the mirror and yet I do not understand what I see. And I forget what I look like the moment I walk away.


At our church, there are two bathrooms. The smaller bathroom has a mirror that made people look thinner. The bigger bathroom has a mirror that made people look fatter. Guess which bathroom I like to use?

We choose to see what we want to see.

We want to see ourselves in the best light. We want to look thinner or taller or more in shape. We want to look symmetrical. Belly buttons should be in the center (is this too much to ask?!). We want to see ourselves as good people, who commit very few wrongs. And when we are wrong, there must be good reasons (a.k.a. excuses) for our mistakes.

Hans preached on Psalm 33 two Sundays ago. He concluded with a point that went straight to my heart: the upright and the righteous are not those who do not sin. Rather, the upright and righteous are people who see themselves as they truly are — sinners who cannot save themselves. Therefore, they hope in the steadfast love of the Lord.

The object of their their hope defines them: What are you beholding?

Scripture is like a mirror. It reveals our true selves. It reflects our crooked hearts. We do not love God with our hearts, minds, and strength. We do not love our neighbors as we love ourselves. We cannot do or be better tomorrow, because we are crooked and twisted to the core. When I attempt to destroy my idols, I only make new ones.

So we pray as David prayed,
Lord, create in us clean hearts.

A bold request. We ask for nothing short of a miracle. To ask God to do in us what he did in the beginning — to create something out of nothing. We ask our Lord to do this, not because we deserve anything, but because of his steadfast love.

In your mercy,
oh Lord, remove the scales from our eyes.
Help us to see our crooked ways,
twisted and deformed.
Create in us clean hearts,
that we may trust in your steadfast love.

Mud soaked in grace

Here is my answer to another favorite question from my single friends: "How do I know whether this person is the one for me?"

First, stop asking the question.
Because this question is fundamentally selfish.

Or perhaps you are dating and already thinking, "I have found the perfect one for me!" Watch out, you are also in for a rude awakening.

You are making your tastes, your needs, your values, your personalities as the central, deciding factors. So really, you are loving you, not the other person. And marrying a person because you love you is generally a bad idea.

While Adam was sleeping, God made Eve. Adam was awakened to the dawn of nuptial love. God did not throw Eve somewhere in the Garden and tell Adam "go find her!" No, God brought her to Adam. In the twilight, they walked in the Garden while the earth was still young. No other husband and wife knew joy so great, though their time was brief.

Therefore, the first thing to say about marriage is that it is a work of grace.

Marriage is God's work of grace in the lives of his children. Grace of the most profound sort. Grace we do not deserve. We were given, entrusted with the life of another human being. For this reason, marriage is suitable a picture of the Gospel. A picture of how the God-man Jesus Christ gave his life for his Bride.

So, do not ask "Who is the one for me?" Rather, we should be asking, am I standing in the way of grace? Do I have the right disposition to receive grace? Grace that I do not deserve.

What is this way of grace?
The way of grace is given to us by the entire counsel of Scripture.

We are not left with our ever-changing, unreliable feelings, and random, subjective experiences (Thanks be to God!). We have been given the counsel of God's Word, which remains true forever. He has revealed his will to us, including whom we are to marry. And we have been commanded to seek after, not husbands or wives, but the kingdom of God.

Our understanding of marriage, however, must not rely merely on the "marriage passages" or the "love passages." We need know the whole story in order to understand the specific passages about love and marriage. We need to know who God is, who we are, our struggles with sin, how God rescues us from our sin, and how we are to live in relationships with one another.

Emeth, who is four, has long started asking me about "his queen." And my answer to him is always the same: he must first learn to love Lady Wisdom. In this way, he will know how to love his queen. He must first learn to walk in the way of wisdom, by fearing God and keeping his commandments. Here, he will learn to stand in the way of grace.

With much fear and trembling (and a teeny bit of reluctance), I pray that my three sons would love wise women. In order to win wise women, however, they must first be wise young men. I don't want them to be exquisite vases looking for other exquisite vases. I want them to be good mud finding good mud. Mud soaked in grace. I pray that they would become suitable clay— broken and yielding—in order that they might be useful vessels for the glory of God.

So, how would you characterize someone who is wise? Here are just a few traits gleaned from the book of Proverbs. The wise person fears the Lord. Unlike fools, the wise person is aware of their foolishness and loves correction and discipline. The wise person prays, trusts in the Lord, bears much fruit, is hard-working, resourceful, kind, and knows how to reign over their tongues. Fools manipulate and take advantage of others; they are flirtatious, proud, dishonest, provocative, and lazy. They have no self-control especially over their tongues and their temper.

A few more words.

Not only have we been given the entire counsel of God's Word, we have also been given a cloud of witnesses. You should not be making this decision alone. Seek the counsel of God-fearing people who love you and who would watch out for you. And listen. Wisdom is discernible by others. In fact, your own vision might be a little (or more than a little) compromised by your feelings.

No matter how well we think we know the person we marry, we always marry people who are somewhat of a stranger to us. Because dates are not the same as real life. Because people change. And believe it or not, that's a very good thing. The knowledge that we are able to change is the very hope of marriage.

Part of me died at the altar on my wedding day. I died, in more ways than I understood. And I promised to be a new person, in more ways than I knew possible, with the one singing beside me. The amazing thing was that he promised to do the same. That he would die for me, to be with me, to be me.

The way of grace is narrow.
But its narrowness
is the narrowness of a birth canal.
There is an entire universe waiting on the other side.

Singing in the dark

My children cry, a lot. We tell them to stop. Big boys don't cry. But --

Jesus cried. The manliest man wept. The king of glory groaned over his lost sheep. The divine warrior mourned in the garden.

So what are we to teach the boys?

On Sundays, we sing praises to God in the congregation. We sing about his greatness, what he has done, what he will do, and we make petitions for grace. We sing songs that lift our souls out of the miry bogs of the week.

Nothing wrong with singing happy songs. Sundays are happy days. But praises are not enough. They cover only part of the Psalms. Remember the laments, chaos, disorientation, hopelessness, meaninglessness. They, too, are part of God's Word. This is the story of God's people, from the beginning. This is the story of the Psalms. This is our story. We move from lament to praise, chaos to order, again and again and again.

So, cry, weep, groan.

The shepherd is listening, and he suffered. He cried, and he died for his lost sheep, for you.

So, in time, we will teach our boys to weep, for the right reasons, in the right way -- to God. For this, too, is worship. Let the tears fall, little ones. And remember his tears thick like blood that washed away our sins.

Let God's people mourn. Let us weep together, and weep over sins and meaningless suffering. Give us songs to sing in the dark.

A reflection on Psalm 42

I have lost my appetite
And a flood is welling up behind my eyes
So I eat the tears I cry
And if that were not enough
They know just the words to cut and tear and prod
When they ask me “Where's your God?”

Why are you downcast, oh my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
I can remember when you showed your face to me

As a deer pants for water, so my soul thirsts for you
And when I behold Your glory, You so faithfully renew
Like a bed of rest for my fainting flesh
I am satisfied in You.

When I'm staring at the ground
It's an inbred feedback loop that brings me down
So it's time to lift my brow
And remember better days
When I loved to worship you in all your ways
with the sweetest songs of praise

Why are you downcast, oh my soul?
Why so disturbed within me?
I can remember when you showed your grace to me

As a deer pants for water, so my soul thirsts for you
And when I survey Your splendor, You so faithfully renew
Like a bed of rest for my fainting flesh
I am satisfied in You.

Let my sighs give way to songs that sing about your faithfulness
Let my pain reveal your glory as my only real rest
Let my losses show me all I truly have is you

So when I'm drowning out at sea
And your breakers and your waves crash down on me
I'll recall your safety scheme
You're the one who made the waves
And your Son went out to suffer in my place
And to tell me that I'm safe

Why am I down?
Why so disturbed?
I am satisfied in you

Sleepy grace

I am a mother of two young children. Most days, my head hits the pillow and sleep come over me like a crashing wave. Sleep washes away the old, and brings the hope of new beginnings. How I welcome these momentary deaths.

Sometimes, sleep delays. On these nights, I beg for it to slay me. Let me be consumed by its force but do not leave me awake, tortured.

While Adam was sleeping, God made Eve. The first sleep mentioned in the Bible. Adam was awaken to the dawn of nuptial love. Her father brought her to him. In the twilight, they walked in the Garden when the earth was still young. No other husband and wife have known joy so great, though their time was brief.

Grace.

Sleep reminds us that we are not God. Made of dust turned into flesh and bones, we are confined by our frames. We need to die — everyday — in order to live.

Sleep requires trust, and submission to the order of things. Unconscious, we are vulnerable, with little control over our minds and bodies. Sleep comes to those who know they are kept in safety. As someone once said: "Sometimes the godliest thing you can do in the universe is get a good night's sleep — not pray all night, but sleep."

little was never so big

When God walked among us, Jesus loved children.

He was always patient, always kind. They often interrupted and asked a lot of questions and talked too much (especially the four-year-olds, I am sure). They were loud; they were children. But he was not annoyed or irritated. He was never too busy. They were never too little.

He told them stories. They surrounded him. They believed him. They knew he came from God, because he said so. They took front row seats at the miracles. They gasped when the blind beggar opened his eyes. They cheered when the lame man took his first step. They were not afraid to sing his praises: "Hosanna to the Son of David! Hosanna in the highest!" while the adults grumbled and plotted the savior's death.

He knew them by name. Sometimes, he would say, "Come!" Most of the time, he did not need to; they flew into his open arms. He held the babies, laid his hand on the bigger ones. And he would pray, and pray, and pray for them. He would tell his disciples: "Turn, and be like children."

He was kind to fathers, and especially to mothers. He remembered pregnant women, mothers of young children, and single moms, the widows. When their children were hungry, he fed them. When their children were sick, he healed them. And when all hope was gone, he raised their little ones from the dead.

Jesus loved children.

When God lived among us, he covered his glory with the face of a fetus, wrapped in a virgin's womb. A small, narrow place for the Maker of stars. He was a baby. He was fed, held, swaddled.

Little was never so big;
big was never so little.

Scripture references:
Matthew 9:24-25; 11:2;14:21; 15:38; 17:18; 18:2-5; 19:13-14; 21:15-16; 24:19.

Jonah did not say sorry

We think we know the story. We have all read it in picture books and heard it in Sunday school: Jonah disobeys, Jonah says sorry, Jonah obeys. We need to be like Jonah. The end.

But Jonah did not say sorry, and he did not obey. At least not in the Bible.

Here are four things that are different in the true story:

1. Jonah's request to be thrown into the sea was an act of rebellion, not self-sacrifice.

Admitting he was wrong is very different from being sorry, and repenting. Jonah may have admitted the storm was his fault, but he wasn't sorry. Why didn't he ask God for forgiveness right away? If his intention was simply to save the sailors from the storm, why did he not jump off the ship himself? Why ask the sailors to throw him overboard?

This was not self-sacrifice; this was not obedience. He continued to run, this time pulling the sailors into his scheme. The sailors were not fooled. They were well aware that he was asking them to commit murder (Jonah 1:13-14). 

2. Jonah's prayer in the belly of the fish was self-righteous and self-centered. And he did not say sorry.

Most storybooks summarize the entire chapter two with one sentence: "Jonah prayed and said sorry for running away" or "Jonah prayed and asked God to forgive him."

But he didn't.

Chapter two contains no hint of repentance and no request for forgiveness. Instead, his prayer was about how good his was, comparing himself to the faithful and persecuted servant in Psalm 5 and 12. Quoting scripture in your prayer doesn't make it true. 

3. Jonah did not obey God after the fish vomited.

First, God gave the same command to Jonah a second time (this never happens to another prophet in the Bible). If God has to give the command again, it is not likely that he went straight to Nineveh as most storybooks would have us believe.

Second, Jonah did not proclaim God's message to the people in Nineveh. He might have told part of God's message: "In forty days, Nineveh will be destroyed." But he didn't even mention God's name! There is a distinct pattern in God's messages to those he loves and wants to rescue: Repent and believe. Jonah said none of those things. He didn't want to.

Yet, because God is God — the people repented and believed anyway!

4. Most stories end in Nineveh. But that is not the end!

Chapter four ties all it all together. It must not be skipped. Jonah throws a tantrum. A full-out, four-year-old kind of tantrum (except worse because he wasn't a four-year-old). If Jonah had repented and obeyed like most storybooks claim, why the outburst now?

Here, Jonah hung out his dirty laundry for all to see. We now know exactly why he disobeyed. Jonah ran away not because he was mad at the Assyrians or the Ninevites (Israel's enemies, as many storybooks try to explain). He was mad at God. Jonah was mad at God for being God—for being kind and patient, merciful and compassionate. The very reasons why he was still alive!

God is hero of the story. And we must tell the story, the whole story, and nothing but the story.


Update (April 8, 2015): Jonah continued to stay with me for years, patiently teaching me how to pray. He taught me how to say sorry. I wrote a more recent reflection on Jonah on the Gospel Coalition Blog. 

 

Are you praying about ketchup stains too?

Did you know that it is possible to begin a conversation with a digression? Because that is what I am about to do.

When I was younger, I told a fellow PK (pastor's kid) friend three things I would never do:
1. I would never go to seminary
2. I would never go into ministry as a profession
3. I would never marry pastor

I have learned since to not make statements that begin with "I would never." They are dangerous.

Technically, ministry is not my "profession," but having invested ourselves in years of theological education, I can't promise it will never be in our future. Besides, mommy-hood is quite the ministry. My mom used to call the four of us her sheep.

And technically, I am not married to a "pastor," but I am married to a preacher. And I love being married to this preacher. For one thing, he gives great illustrations.

End of digression.

In my previous post, I recycled Hans' ketchup stain illustration. Originally, he used it to explain the scenario in Matthew 9:1-8. Seeing the faith of his friends, Jesus healed the paralyzed man -- by forgiving his sins.

What's that? The guy can't um... move? In Jesus' eyes, apparently, that was secondary. Jesus' main concern was the sickness of his heart. He declares, “Take heart, my son; your sins are forgiven” (Matt 9:2). In the following narrative, while "sitting with tax collectors and sinners," Jesus identified himself as the physician to those who were sick.

Too often, my prayers must sound pretty silly. They go something like this: "Dear Lord, please remove the ketchup stain from my hospital gown, and please remove the mustard stain from so and so."

Yes, Jesus was able to cure the man of his paralysis, and he did. But the concerns of this body and this life are like ketchup stains. Temporary. Superficial. To God, the sin of the heart is our true death, incurable except by his mercy and forgiveness.

Years ago, when I was teaching inner-city youth, delinquent girls in the juvenile justice facilities and schools for pregnant teens, I was feeling pretty useless toward the end of the year. They were dead and dying before my eyes, and I was teaching them futile things like "your need to love yourself," "feel good about the way you look," "please, don't get into abusive relationships." Ketchup stains!

Lord, teach us to pray.