How’s That Working Out For You?

(Jonah, TLB)

In my daily reading I reach the book of Jonah.

Tale of a giant swallowing fish.

Familiar enough to speedread to the end.

Where I’ve written this in the margin:

How’s that working out for you, Jonah?

Maybe you don’t jot notes like that in your margins.

Apparently I do, but I’ll need to reread Jonah’s story, slowly this time, to figure out why I jotted such a question.

I find myself not only reading Jonah’s story, but living it.

Or, at least, relating deeply to him.

Because Jonah runs with his emotions.

Until they run away with him. 

Is it just me?

Earlier this month I set out to put up my Christmas tree.

I pictured a joy-filled afternoon.

Instead I was ambushed by unwelcome emotions that swept me up and in, and then ran away with me.

By the end, I couldn’t stand to even look at the tree.

So I fled the room.

Decided to avoid the tree for the rest of December.

Dramatic, I know.

And irrational.

But an example of emotions running away with their victims.

Me.

And Jonah.

Like when he impulsively yells to the sailors,

“Pick me up and hurl me into the sea!”

Dramatic, right?

And irrational.

In the lesser-known second half of his book, Jonah is swept up and away again by his emotions.

This time into a pity party.

Punctuated by another dramatic outburst.

“Death is better than this!”

Jonah lives on an emotional roller coaster.

Fearing, fleeing, pouting.

Running with your emotions is not the same as letting your emotions run away with you.

But I’m not here to judge . . .

I have my own Christmas tree drama.

While Jonah’s story is about him, the bigger story is about God.

And his heart.

We find God close to Jonah from start to finish.

Posing questions designed to help him process his emotions.

Stepping into Jonah’s drama by appointing a fish, a plant, a worm, and a wind to point to His mercies.

Never shaming.

Just providing visible evidence of His giant, invisible heart.

Sometimes it’s hard to recognize God’s mercies when emotions cloud our vision.

Which is likely what prompted my question in the margin.

How’s that working out for you, Jonah?

Obvious answer: Not great.

So back to my tree. 

I do avoid it for the rest of the day, but in the morning . . .

It’s hard to ignore the early morning winter sky peeking through the window behind the tree.

Lightening to an impossibly pastel pink.

A reminder of God’s nearness.

And His mercies . . . new every morning.

I’m okay with the tree now.

Emotions in check.

Until . . .

Until the phone rings.

With unwelcome news.

Of a circumstance upsetting enough to fling me right back into my reserved seat on the emotional roller coaster.

How will that work out for me?

Obvious answer: Not great.

WWJD?

What Would Jonah Do?

Scratch that.

WSID . . .

What Should I Do?

Back away from the roller coaster.

Give God room to do what He does best . . . appoint fish, plants, worms, winds, or whatever to point my eyes in His direction.

And pray.

In the midst of this unsettling new circumstance, 

help me recognize evidence there 

of You . . .

and Your great heart.

See you in a couple weeks.

Love,