The Scandal of Grace: When God's Mercy Offends Us
Midweek Meditations on Jonah 4:1-11
In our last Midweek Meditation, Jonah's message to Nineveh sparked city-wide repentance, and God's mercy triumphed. We reflected on how our call to specific people and places deepens our call to God, shaping our faith through community. Now, in our final look at Jonah, we face his shocking response to Nineveh’s renewal—and the unsettling question at the heart of grace.
When God saw what they did and how they turned from their evil ways, he relented and did not bring on them the destruction he had threatened. But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was angry.
Jonah 3:10-4:1
The Offence of Grace
After witnessing one of the greatest revivals in history—an entire city turning to God in repentance—Jonah is “displeased … exceedingly.” He is furious. These words should stop us in our tracks.
If renewal spread through our communities, if our entire region turned to God, wouldn’t we celebrate? Wouldn’t the confetti fly and the party begin?
Not for Jonah.
To say Jonah is angry is an understatement. His anger is referenced four times in the last chapter of his book. Jonah is down right red in the face, chest beating, full grown man channeling five-year-old-temper-tantruming-energy angry.
What’s Jonah's problem? We don’t have to guess. Jonah explains:
And [Jonah] prayed to the Lord and said, “O Lord, is not this what I said when I was yet in my country? That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster. Therefore now, O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live.”
Jonah 4:2-3
When Jonah prayed in the belly of the fish, his prayer lacked any sign of confession or repentance for running from God. He ended that prayer with a declaration: “Salvation belongs to the Lord!”
The problem for Jonah is that God is the type who answers prayers. That prayer has now been answered in Nineveh. Salvation is the Lord’s—and God in his sovereignty and freedom brings it to Nineveh. But Jonah can’t handle it. He melts down. This was the opposite of what he wanted.
If you weren’t convinced that his first prayer was half-hearted at best, this second prayer confirms that he was just saying the right words before. He didn’t mean them. In fact, Jonah would rather go back to the belly of the fish—back to Sheol—than live with Nineveh’s renewal.
Essentially, Jonah says his deliverance from death was a mistake.
For the first time in his book, Jonah is explicit about his motivations. He fled from God’s calling because of who God is. He says, “That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster.” These aren’t usually the qualities that cause people to flee from God!
Even more, any ancient Jewish reader/listener would immediately notice that Jonah quotes from Exodus 34—when God revealed his character to Moses. But Jonah conspicuously omits the part that says “God keeps lovingkindness for thousands of generations, who forgives iniquity, transgression and sin.”
What makes Jonah’s complaint about God’s character remarkable isn’t what he says, but what he leaves out.
Jonah is clear: he ran from God’s calling because he knew who God is. But Jonah still can’t bring himself to accept who God is. He can’t stomach the fact that God’s grace includes forgiving Nineveh’s brokenness and sin. Jonah can’t even say the words.
Jonah doesn't want to live with grace—at least not when it's extended to Nineveh. He doesn't want grace to include forgiveness of the inexcusable. Because to Jonah, Nineveh is inexcusable: evil, corrupt, violent, oppressive, bloodthirsty, and, don't forget, Gentile. So Jonah declares, "Therefore now, O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live."
Before we climb onto our moral high horses, let's try to empathize with Jonah. Grace isn't an easy thing to accept.
Consider Javert from Les Misérables.
This fanatic police officer dedicates his life to tracking down Jean Valjean. Javert is a man of the law, of rules, of justice. His commitment is to mercilessly upholding the law. As he sings, “And so it must be for so it is written on the doorway to paradise that those who falter and those who fall must pay the price!”
The turning point comes when Jean Valjean has the opportunity to kill Javert but instead releases him. This act of mercy rattles Javert to his core:
Why would his enemy show him mercy when he had been so merciless?
The next time Javert encounters Valjean, he walks away instead of arresting him. But Javert cannot live with his decision. He cannot reconcile the law with the mercy he shows to Valjean. So he dies by suicide.
His final words are gut-wrenching:
Who is this man? What sort of devil is he to have me caught in a trap and choose to let me go free? Vengeance was his and he gave me back my life! Damned if I'll live in the debt of a thief... There is nothing on earth that we share. It is either Valjean or Javert!
This is the epitome of a person who cannot live with grace.
If you’re still thinking, “I’m not like Jonah or Javert—their reactions to grace are too extreme,” let me ask you this: What about Nazi Germany? What if God forgave all the willing participants in the Reich? What about those who perpetrated apartheid? What if God forgave all the oppressors? What about terrorist groups that kidnap children? What if any of these groups, in their entirety, repented and God forgave them?
Many of us respond like we do when serial killers have jailhouse conversions. We question the authenticity of their repentance. We do anything we can to find a way to say they remain inexcusable before God.
That is what is so offensive about grace:
It’s all about the inexcusable being forgiven.
And when people or groups that we think are unforgivable are forgiven? We often respond like Jonah:
“I don’t want to be in a heaven where those people will be with me.”
In our own words, we’ll sing:
“It is either Valjean or Javert!”
What if Grace Is Withdrawn?
Now, Lord, take away my life, for it is better for me to die than to live.
But the Lord replied, “Is it right for you to be angry?”
Jonah 4:3-4
God asks Jonah a pointed question:
Do you do well to be angry?
But Jonah doesn’t respond. He chooses silence. He unravels further, going backward to where he started, refusing to speak to God.
Jonah went out of the city and sat to the east of the city and made a booth for himself there. He sat under it in the shade, till he should see what would become of the city.
Jonah 4:5
Jonah heads east.
In Scripture, going “east” can symbolize running away from God—like Cain going “east of Eden” (Genesis 3:24, 4:16). John Steinbeck was captivated by this eastward movement in his novel East of Eden. His characters wrestle with the matter of choice—symbolized by the central reflection over the Hebrew word “timshel” which can be translated as “Thou mayest” (Genesis 4:6-7). Sin crouches at the door. It’s desire is to master us. There is a choice between anger and acceptance. Much like Cain, Jonah chooses anger.
East of Nineveh is an arid desert. There, Jonah crafts a makeshift shelter, physically and spiritually positioning himself in opposition to God’s mercy. There, he waits to see what will become of the city. Essentially, Jonah questions the authenticity of Nineveh’s repentance. Like Steinbeck’s characters who struggle with believing in redemption, Jonah thinks, “It can’t be real. It won’t last. And when it doesn’t, God will bring judgment.”
God’s response is surprising and gracious:
Now the Lord God appointed a plant and made it come up over Jonah, that it might be a shade over his head, to save him from his discomfort. So Jonah was exceedingly glad because of the plant.
Jonah 4:6
Just as God appointed a storm when Jonah was on the ship, a fish to save Jonah from death, and the fish to vomit Jonah onto shore, God now appoints a plant to grow. God sees Jonah’s discomfort and vulnerability to the sun. He sees that Jonah’s makeshift booth isn’t adequate. So God grows a plant to provide shade.
And Jonah is “exceedingly glad because of the plant.”
His emotions swing. From exceedingly angry to exceedingly glad. Of course, this gladness is the response Jonah should have had toward Nineveh. In his rebellion against God, however, Jonah was equally glad about a little more shade for his head as he was enraged by God’s grace toward Nineveh.
It makes me wonder: Why would God increase Jonah’s happiness, especially since Jonah is running again?
Well, God is up to something.
The Hebrew word translated as “discomfort” in verse 6 is Ra, which means “evil.” This is the same word used to describe Nineveh’s evil. It can legitimately be translated, God “saved Jonah from his evil.” In appointing the plant, God is still teaching Jonah about salvation! God is providing for Jonah, even in his rebellion. God is showing grace toward Jonah’s unrepentant evil—because that is who God is.
The plant is a vivid picture of God’s grace toward Jonah.
And under the plant, Jonah finally cracks a smile.
But just as Jonah begins to enjoy this grace, God removes it:
But when dawn came up the next day, God appointed a worm that attacked the plant, so that it withered. When the sun rose, God appointed a scorching east wind, and the sun beat down on the head of Jonah so that he was faint. And he asked that he might die and said, “It is better for me to die than to live.”
Jonah 4:7-8
God appoints a worm to take away Jonah’s shade. But God is really removing his grace. God gives Jonah over to the cost of his rebellion and running. Jonah is exposed to the elements. Under the sun, in mere hours, his skin will burn and blister. Jonah will thirst and ache. God even intensifies the heat with a “scorching east wind.”
God puts Jonah in the pressure cooker.
Jonah is now exposed to a graceless existence—the very thing he wished upon Nineveh.
And without grace, Jonah will die.
What does Jonah say?
“It is better for me to die than to live.”
So God asks:
Do you do well to be angry for the plant?” And Jonah said, “Yes, I do well to be angry, angry enough to die.”
Jonah 4:9
Here’s the predicament: Jonah doesn’t want to live with grace. But he doesn’t want to live without grace either.
If living with grace means Nineveh gets grace too—then Jonah wants death. So God gives Jonah an alternative reality. God gives him what Jonah wished upon Nineveh: a graceless existence.
But if Jonah has to live without grace, then he wants death as well, because the reality is unbearable.
Jonah can see no other option than death. And without grace, there is no other option. Because grace is the balm for death. And so, Jonah’s anger reemerges. His desire for death returns. He simply can’t accept grace.
The Struggle of Grace
Why can’t Jonah accept grace? For the same reason we often can’t: we don't think we really need it.
We’re mostly satisfied to say, “I need forgiveness; I’m not perfect. God can forgive me; because I’m earnest.”
But if we get upset when God starts forgiving those who have hurt us the most—the parents who failed us, the spouses who betrayed us, the people who took advantage of us, those who abused us and took pieces of our souls that cannot be returned—if we get upset when God forgives people far worse than us, it exposes something about ourselves:
We’re happy to admit we need forgiveness, but we don’t think we need it desperately. We think we’re pretty good. We think we somehow deserve to be forgiven because we’re not that bad. We’re just sort of bad. We don’t need grace; we need a little boost.
If we don’t see that the inexcusable in others is just as present in ourselves, then we don’t really see ourselves as God sees us. If God forgives you, it’s not because you deserve it. Or because you’re “pretty good” and just made some mistakes. It’s only because God chooses to lavish you with grace. God doesn’t have to forgive you. But you desperately need God to do so. Because any sin in your life makes you inexcusable in God’s sight. And without grace, like Jonah, we are exposed and helpless, heading toward death and a permanent separation from God that we deserve.
The Test of Grace in Our Lives
Grace changes us. As C.S. Lewis simply put it:
To be a Christian means to forgive the inexcusable because God has forgiven the inexcusable in you.
Like Jean Valjean in Les Misérables, we begin to extend grace to the inexcusable in others because we have received it and it has changed us. We desire others to know just how great grace is. This is what transformed Valjean from a hardened criminal into a gracious man.
After 19 years in prison, Valjean finds refuge under a bishop’s care. The bishop feeds him and gives him a bed for the evening. During the night, Valjean steals the bishop’s silverware and flees, only to be caught and brought back. In all likelihood, Valjean is on his way back to prison.
But the bishop surprises everyone.
In front of the police, he rebukes Valjean—not for theft, but for forgetting to also take the silver candlesticks, which were also a gift to him. In this moment, Valjean experiences grace. And it changes him forever.
If we can’t rejoice in extending grace to others, it’s because we haven’t really been transformed by grace. Grace remains just an idea, not an experience. And if grace remains an idea, it’ll always be a backward idea. Because grace isn’t fair. That’s what makes it grace. Until we realize there are inexcusable realities within our own souls that need God’s forgiveness, we will never rejoice when the inexcusable in others is forgiven too.
The Crying God of Grace
God concludes with a powerful question for Jonah:
And the Lord said, “You pity the plant, for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?”
Jonah 4:10-11
God says to Jonah, “You pity the plant. But you did nothing to gain it. It was a gift. It was my work. And now when you've lost it, you are furious. You're weeping over it.”
“In the same way,” God asks, “shouldn’t I pity Nineveh?”
It’s a great city, far more significant than a little plant. All its residents don’t know their right from their left—they are morally confused and lost. And let’s not forget, “it has much cattle.” They matter too! This seemingly left-field note reminds us that throughout Jonah’s book, we’ve seen that God is Lord over all creation: the wind, the sea, the dry land, the fish, the plant, the worm—and yes, the cattle. Let’s not forget that God is as Lord over Nineveh—and even Jonah. Everything matters to God. God is concerned about restoring all of his creation to himself.
Because of this desire, God takes pity on Nineveh.
The Hebrew word for “pity” literally means “to have tears in one’s eyes.” When God sees Nineveh’s brokenness, their moral confusion, their violence, their evil—it brings him to tears—that is the God we worship!
This isn’t the only time God has wept over a city. Luke writes that when Jesus drew near and saw Jerusalem, “he wept over it” (Luke 19:41). He wept over its brokenness. Jesus wept over how it had abandoned God.
But now the great city of Nineveh has responded to grace. It’s cause for rejoicing. A party erupts in heaven. And God asks Jonah: Can’t you weep with me over brokenness? Can’t you rejoice with me when that renewal comes? Can’t you celebrate grace like you did under the plant?
Then the book ends.
But what about Jonah?
Did he ever repent?
Did he ever accept grace?
The only indication that Jonah repents is the book itself—a brutally honest book. Jonah retells his story. It’s his felix culpa—the story of his fortunate fall into grace. Jonah talks about running from God, going down even to Sheol. He talks about how he wanted death over life with God. He tells the mess that is his story—full of shortcomings and brokenness. He doesn’t gloss it up. And in doing so, Jonah amplifies God’s grace:
The profound grace that met Jonah in the depths of human depravity.
The grace didn’t give up on him.
The grace that pursued and chased him.
The grace that finally changed him.
By writing his book, Jonah models something very important for us:
Grace gives us the freedom to talk about our ugliness, our mistakes, our utter failures because we know that God has met us in those places. God has forgiven us in those places. God has extended grace to us in those places.
We share our stories of experiencing grace with others because it’s stories of grace that make grace concrete. People don’t need abstract ideas about grace; they need stories of how grace met you and changed you. And part of how we join God in the renewal of our communities is by bringing our stories of grace to them.
So where are you in Jonah’ story?
Are you running from extending grace?
Are you angry that God forgives those you can’t?
Or have you been so transformed by grace that you’re ready to share your own story of how God’s inexplicable grace found you?