Unless I’m forgetting something, the gospel accounts of Jesus’ ministry only speak of one person turning down Jesus’ invitation to follow him: the rich ruler who asked what he had to do to win eternal life. When Jesus said, “Sell all your possessions and give the money to the poor and then come, follow me,” we’re told he turned away saddened “for he had many possessions.” John’s gospel tells of quite a few followers quitting the movement when Jesus starts talking strangely about being “the bread of life,” but most of the stories in which he calls people to follow him as disciples end with a “yes.”
It’s enough to discourage the likes of us, who often have trouble getting people to participate regularly in church, let alone take Jesus seriously. (Of course, if we emphasized the latter, we’d likely get more of the former, but that’s another story for another day…) Jesus makes it look so easy.
It’s a good thing the Hebrew Bible includes the story of Jonah, a tidbit of which is in Sunday's lectionary. Jonah is a hilariously tall tale about a man who would do just about anything to avoid the one thing God asked him to do: go and carry a message of repentance to the famously wicked and licentious populace of Nineveh.
Jonah is so unwilling and so disobedient, he hightails it in the other direction, catches a ship to throw God off the scent, gets thrown overboard and fetches up in the belly of a big fish, only to be thrown up on a beach three days later. And who’s there to greet him? God – with the same request. This time Jonah does it, sort of, doing his best to sabotage his own mission. He succeeds despite his best efforts to fail, and ends in a bitter heap of abject rage, railing against God’s mercy. It’s a brilliant send-up of self-righteousness, and a sweetly subversive hymn to forgiveness and grace.
One message we might take from this story is that God can find a way to work through even the most unwilling heart. If we know anyone who’s taken their sweet time getting around to RSVPing Jesus' invitation to closer relationship (maybe us?); if we find ourselves putting off that nudging sense that God would like us to reach out in love to certain people, or engage in certain work for justice – we might take comfort (of a sort!) from this story. God can outwait us.
But oh, how much nicer and more fulfilling it is when stop delaying and resisting, and turn and say, “Okay. I’m listening. What is it you want from me?” More often than not, the response we receive will be something God wants for us, not from us.
All God really wants from us is our whole hearts. That’s all.
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