Good Questions - Day 5
- adelebowler
- Nov 19, 2024
- 4 min read
Day Five Have you any right to be angry?
Krista Tippet says, “Anger is often what pain looks like when it shows itself in public.” Jonah is not only showing his anger in public. He’s vehemently expressing his pain to God.
The first three chapters of Jonah tell the story of a man who is confused and called by God. He hatches a plan to run not only from the call but also from God Himself. You probably know the rest of the story. Chapter 4 brings Jonah and his anger face to face with God.
When we were talking about Jonah, AGB said, “This story doesn’t make Jonah out to be the best Christian on the planet. At times, it actually makes him out to be a complete jerk.” Confession time: I like disobedient Jonah better than obedient Jonah. At least disobedient Jonah is honest. With great passion, he tells God his truth. Jonah does not want the Ninevites to repent. He wants judgment and vengeance. Deeper still, what he wants is the elimination of Israel’s enemies. If God wiped out the Ninevites, the Israelites would be safe and secure. Jonah is angry because he’s afraid.
We don’t know the whole story of Jonah. We remember the parts about Tarshish and the whale. We know he knew the Psalms—every line of his prayer in chapter 2 is a quotation from the Psalms. But we don’t exactly know why he was afraid.
Something happened along the way. Somewhere, somehow, either by his own doing or by sin splashing on him, Jonah got hurt, and now he’s afraid and angry.
This one thing I know: Hurt not met with empathy turns to fear. Fear and anxiety not met with peace and presence turn to anger. Anger left to fester turns to bitterness. Bitterness full grown becomes resentment, and resentment ultimately leads to death.
Thankfully, Jonah voiced his anger. I celebrate his honesty.
Have you any right to be angry?
I can’t think of Jonah and not think about the older brother in the parable of the Prodigal Son. He, too, was afraid and angry and lashed out.
Hanging near our kitchen table is a framed poster of Rembrandt’s “Return of the Prodigal Son,” which we’ve had forever. It serves as a reminder that everyone is welcome at our table, and we desire it to be a place of blessing.
This week, I sat at the table reading my little devotional, “Being Here,” by Padraig O’ Tuama. The Scripture reading included these lines from Luke 15.25-28
“Meanwhile, the older son was in the field. When he came near the house, he heard music and dancing. So he called one of the servants and asked him what was going on. ‘Your brother has come,’ he replied, ‘and your father has killed the fattened calf because he has him back safe and sound.’ “The older brother became angry and refused to go in.”
I was tempted to look up at the poster. Instead, I politely declined. I’m well acquainted with the brother. He disgusts me. I’ve been him for most of my life, at times I still am.
Turning the page, I was greeted by a prayer poem about the older brother. I so wanted to skip the poem. I begrudgingly read this:
Elder brother in the field, when your sibling came back, no one told you. You were left to work and not invited to the party. We understand your pain. We hope you do, too. In all of our experiences of missing out in the moments when our fears of rejection are confirmed, be a friend to us inviting us to rewrite the ending of a story that isn’t ended. Amen.
Not only did his younger brother leave his dad, but his younger brother also left him. And when his brother does return, no one says a word, not even a bypassing comment about the homecoming party.
“In the moments when our fears of rejection are confirmed…”
For the first time in my life, I have compassion for the older brother and, in some ways, for myself.
I have every right to be angry.
And I have an invitation to rewrite this chapter of my story.
One other parallel between the parable and Jonah is that neither story resolves. The text leaves us hanging. We don’t know if there’s healing for Jonah or the older brother. We don’t know if there was reconciliation or relapse. We don’t know what these two decide to do, where they go, or who they become.
I wonder if I’m the ending to the story. Or maybe you? What if the invitation is for you and me to decide how this story plays out? What if today, you get to choose honesty, anger, forgiveness, or fear? How will today’s chapter end?
Questions to Consider:
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