When Our Gods Are Too Small
Midweek Meditations: Jonah 1:3-16
In our previous Midweek Meditation on Jonah, we witnessed the “faithful” prophet’s flight from God’s call. When commanded to go to Nineveh, Jonah flees from God’s call and heads 2,500 miles in the opposite direction to Tarshish. There, Jonah boards a ship, and attempts to escape. But while Jonah can flee and dig deeper into his disobedience, he cannot escape God.
When Sailors Pray and Prophets Sleep
Jonah rose to flee to Tarshish from the presence of the Lord. He went down to Joppa and found a ship going to Tarshish. So he paid the fare and went down into it, to go with them to Tarshish, away from the presence of the Lord. But the Lord hurled a great wind upon the sea, and there was a mighty tempest on the sea, so that the ship threatened to break up. Then the mariners were afraid, and each cried out to his god. And they hurled the cargo that was in the ship into the sea to lighten it for them.
Jonah 1:3-5
Jonah wants to escape from the presence/face of the Lord. But God put Jonah’s flight to a halt with a great storm upon the sea—a tempest, a violent windstorm so severe that the very ship was in danger of breaking to pieces.
The focus of the story shifts. Jonah recedes to the background while the sailors take centre stage. It’s an interesting narrative strategy—on this boat, we learn more from Gentile sailors than we do from a Jewish prophet of the true God. (It’s a little bit of foreshadowing—Ninevah’s encounter of God might have a thing or two to teach Israel about God).
If you’ve ever watched the reality show Deadliest Catch, you can better imagine this scene. Professional sailors and fishermen are strong, burly men who work within storms as a profession. They respect the power of ocean and wind. So when we read that these sailors “were afraid and crying out to their gods,” you know the situation is dire. This is no ordinary storm—it’s a terrifying situation that shakes even the strongest, most seasoned men to their bones.
This is unmistakably life or death.
The sailors take action. They each cry out to their gods. In the ancient world, a pantheon of deities oversaw specific areas of the world. This ship carries a variety of cultures—different people worshipping different gods. They pray to cover their bases, hoping one of their gods might be awake, pay attention, and calm the storm. When they see no answer, they get practical:
They hurl cargo off the ship—a painful decision that would cost them economically. But they value living over financial loss and take drastic measures to save their lives.
These men are frantic. They’re panicking. They’re praying. They’re throwing cargo overboard. They’re fighting against the storm. They’re fighting to live.
But what about Jonah?
But Jonah had gone down into the inner part of the ship and had lain down and was fast asleep.
Jonah 1:5
This is stupefying sleep!
The ship is rocking, reeling, groaning, and literally falling apart. People are running around panicked, throwing things overboard, shouting prayers into the face of the storm to their gods—and Jonah is fast asleep. He knows neither the danger he has put others in nor his own peril. Jonah doesn’t seem the least bit troubled by his disobedience. He sleeps deeply. What?! How?!
The Hell of Disobedience
When we deliberately and actively refuse to do what God calls us to do, we should expect disorder. A mentor of mine, Dr. Tuttle, calls this “The hell of disobedience.” When we run from God, we should expect storms—whether in external circumstances like Jonah or in inner turmoil.
While not every form of struggle and disorder in our lives stems from disobedience, some certainly do. When we say a resounding “no” to God, we’re refusing the Author of life, the one who brings order to the world. We’re running into disorder, chaos, and life apart from the Creator of all things. And while God will let us run, in his goodness he will not let the path be smooth.
The sailors fight for their lives while God’s prophet slumbers. Jonah is oblivious to the danger of his disobedience. Hypersomnia—sleeping when we shouldn’t—is actually a sign of passivity, depression, apathy, and giving up on life. Jonah’s sleeping might seem confusing—but it indicates disorder in his life because of disobedience.
When you’ve run so far from God that you don't even care anymore, when you sleep through storms:
You are truly in danger.
Unlikely Voices
The captain came and said to Jonah, “What do you mean, you sleeper? Arise, call out to your god! Perhaps the god will give a thought to us, that we may not perish”
Jonah 1:6
Have you ever been in a conversation where something someone said stuck with you? And then later that day or week, someone else says the exact same thing to you? It’s not just coincidence—the words sink in as God mysteriously guides and speaks to you.
The right words at the right time.
That’s what happens here.
The captain uses the same words to address Jonah as God used earlier: “Arise …” Jonah surely heard the voice of God echoing through this captain.
When we refuse to listen to God, he continues to speak—through disorder in our lives and through the mouths of people around us—even those who don’t know him. The irony is that a Gentile captain is exhorting a prophet to pray. The prophet should be praying—but Jonah remains silent. The sailors have exhausted their list of known gods, and Jonah won't say a word to the one true God who can save them all from perishing.
The sailors may have been driven by fear and panic. We know their gods were merely wooden statues, but their actions were correct. They recognized their dependence on something greater than themselves, but they didn’t know the one true God’s name—unlike Jonah.
When our beliefs and actions are uncoordinated, we become dangerous to ourselves and others. We know the truth, but refuse to live by it.
Jonah knew the one true, living God. His belief was well-founded. But his beliefs and his actions were uncoordinated. He refuses to acknowledge God even in the face of the storm, even in this life-or-death situation. But in response to Jonah’s stubborn silence and refusal to act, the sailors persist. Their determination to find life in the face of death won't be thwarted.
And they said to one another, “Come, let us cast lots, that we may know on whose account this evil has come upon us.” So they cast lots, and the lot fell on Jonah. Then they said to him, “Tell us on whose account this evil has come upon us. What is your occupation? And where do you come from? What is your country? And of what people are you?'“
Jonah 1:7-8
The sailors had never seen a storm like this. That a God would act this way astonishes them. They can’t comprehend it all. So they ask Jonah, “Explain yourself! Help us understand! Who are you?”
Finally, Jonah speaks. And his answer is key to understanding this entire passage:
“I am a Hebrew, and I fear the Lord, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land”
Jonah 1:9
At first, it seems Jonah is finally testifying about God. Yes! He’s finally living up to his call as God's prophet! But note what he doesn't say. The sailors ask, “What is your occupation?” Jonah doesn't answer. He hides that he’s a prophet. But he’s more than happy to tell them who he is:
“I am a Hebrew.”
You can almost hear him puffing up his chest and his nationalistic hairs standing on end. Since Jonah identifies himself first ethnically—”I am a Hebrew!”—and only then religiously, it’s fair to say his ethnicity primarily defines him. This is why he fled his call. He’s a Hebrew from Israel who serves the God of Israel. What business does a prophet of Israel have going to the nations, to cities like Nineveh?
When Our God Becomes Too Small
Jonah says “I fear the Lord, the God of heaven, who made the sea and the dry land.” How he identifies God matters. He’s the God of the universe who made all things—and most notably for the moment at hand: the sea.
The sailors would hear:
“My God is responsible for this storm.”
But given all that Jonah has done and hasn’t done—fleeing and remaining silent and prayerless—his words ring hollow.
Jonah doesn’t truly fear the Lord. “Fearing the Lord” describes someone who honors their relationship with God, who says, “I will go wherever the Lord asks. I will do whatever the Lord asks. I will say ‘yes’ before I even know the question.” It’s someone who knows their place in relationship with God, who genuinely fears God because he’s God and can do whatever he wants and ask whatever he wants.
That hardly describes Jonah.
Jonah pays lip service to “fearing” God, but doesn’t actually fear him. He has redefined and shrunk God down. Jonah has his own little idea of god. But the true living God doesn’t match what Jonah has constructed. Jonah has made an idol—a small “g” god he exalts and worships as if it’s truly God.
Tim Keller helpfully defines an idol:
An idol is anything more important to you than God, anything that absorbs your heart and imagination more than God, anything you seek to give you what only God can give.
Patrick Miller uncovers an additional, uncomfortable layer to this understanding of idolatry:
Idolatry is not merely loving something more than God. It’s enjoying something independently of God. It’s easy to convince yourself that you’re free of the former, while indulging in the latter.
While idols can be anything—possessions, careers, relationships—they can also be ideas. Ideas are often the more insidious idols because they're less obvious.
Jonah’s idol is constructed of ideas. He believes God is a Hebrew-only loving god, a Gentile-excluding god, the god of a very specific people for a very specific and narrow cause: making Israel boom and grow. Jonah’s idol is particularly insidious because it’s woven with half-truths.
One of the most telling signs of idolatry is what happens when that idol is confronted.
Then they said to him, “What shall we do to you, that the sea may quiet down for us?” For the sea grew more and more tempestuous. He said to them, “Pick me up and hurl me into the sea; then the sea will quiet down for you, for I know it is because of me that this great tempest has come upon you.” Nevertheless, the men rowed hard to get back to dry land, but they could not, for the sea grew more and more tempestuous against them. Therefore they called out to the Lord, “O Lord, let us not perish for this man’s life, and lay not on us innocent blood, for you, O Lord, have done as it pleased you.” So they picked up Jonah and hurled him into the sea, and the sea ceased from its raging. Then the men feared the Lord exceedingly, and they offered a sacrifice to the Lord and made vows.
Jonah 1:11-16
The storm intensifies. Twice we’re told it grows more and more tempestuous—violent and chaotic. Jonah says, “Throw me into the sea. That’s what’s required. This storm is my fault.” The sailors try desperately to avoid this solution. But ultimately, they pray to God and then do as Jonah instructed.
It might seem like Jonah is being selfless, willing to die to save the sailors.
But that’s not the case at all.
In this life-or-death situation, Jonah chooses death rather than life with the sailors. We know this because he still hasn’t done the one thing they asked him to do:
Jonah still hasn’t prayed.
Even facing death, Jonah hasn’t stopped running from God. He has just changed the destination. If Jonah can’t escape to Tarshish, he’ll go to Sheol—the place of the dead. He’ll take a watery grave before praying for Gentile sailors—let alone praying with them to God. Do you see this nationalism getting in the way?
Jonah would rather die with his small idea of god—his idol intact—than adjust his understanding to accommodate the inclusion of other people as the true living God desires. He had a pick-and-choose, little “g” god. He focused on parts of Scripture that highlighted God’s love for Israel but ignored the parts that express God’s desire to see all nations become part of his people.
Ultimately, Jonah preferred death over living with a fuller picture of who God really is. That’s how we know he was worshipping an idol. When the idol is confronted: Jonah effectively says, “I would rather die than give up my Hebrew-only, Gentile-excluding, Israel-booming god.”
Know Thy Idols
This is the problem with idolatrous ideas about God. We would rather hold onto them, even to our own demise, than give them up. So how do we discover if we’ve shrunk God down and are worshipping a false idea of him?
Like Jonah, we should ask:
What’s your Nineveh?
Who would be the hardest person for you to reach?
The homeless, sex workers, people battling addiction, teenagers, the elderly, the sick and dying, the imprisoned, the poor, the wealthy, people who have different sexuality or gender identities, people of different ethnicities, immigrants, politicians, liberals, conservatives, nationalists?
Who makes it easy for you to believe God shouldn’t want to reach them?
If someone has come to mind—let alone an entire group of people—then you might be worshipping an idea of God rather than God himself. You’ll risk making a god who is only the god of people you’re comfortable with: people who look like you, act like you, see things like you.
Perhaps you’re a people person. You truly love the idea of God reaching every person. If so, it’s still important to examine your view of God:
Is it easier to believe God is so nice he wouldn’t want to offend someone by calling out their sin? Is God so inclusive he would never set boundaries on how people should live? Is God so easygoing he doesn’t really care what you do with your time, money, body, or life? Is God not really a person but a cosmic presence? Is it easier to believe God doesn’t use eternal destruction that there is no judgment?
Is there any part of God as revealed in Scripture that you try to reduce or remove rather than holistically incorporate into your understanding?
These are aspects we soften or limit about God. We might not realize it, but often we believe they don’t reflect who he truly is. If you do any of this, you’re constructing a nicer, smaller, more palatable idol. And like Jonah, it’s usually so you don’t have to follow God’s radical calling on your life.
The problem is when we limit our view of God, we limit our view of ourselves and others. We shrink God to be a little “g” god and without realizing it, we lose parts of ourselves too.
Jonah sees himself as a prophet of Israel alone. Therefore, God must be the God of Israel alone. As a result, Jonah sees himself as chosen, better, above other nations and peoples. But this actually limits his vision. He doesn’t see clearly. He thinks of himself more highly than he should, and his idol leads him to believe others are less than him.
God is supposed to define Jonah and his place in the world and how he sees other people. Jonah wants the smaller picture—and it’s a tragedy bcause he has the opportunity to be part of something bigger and greater. His idol, which he thinks is better, only limits his understanding of God; what God can do, and who God cares about.
What Jonah fails to see is that Israel is no different than Nineveh. He as a Hebrew is no different than a Ninevite. Jonah is upset at God for sending him to evil Nineveh, that terrible city that has inflicted so much pain on others. But Jonah doesn’t see that his nation’s evil and own evil are just as bad. Let’s remember: Jonah serves under King Jeroboam II’s reign—a king who “did what is evil in the sight of the Lord.” And Jonah’s disobedience has brought this storm and suffering upon the sailors. Jonah can’t see that all nations and people, including Israel and himself, stand in need of God’s grace and mercy. The evil in Nineveh needs God’s intervention: so does Israel, so does this storm, so does Jonah.
Jonah has become so blind that he can't even see others earnestly seeking after God. All he sees is a category of people: “Gentiles.” All he sees is their false gods. And he overlooks their earnest actions, their prayers, their desire to find the true God—their desire for life in the face of death.
Love Your Neighbour + Enemy
In our communities, like these sailors, people are actively fighting against a culture of death. Their beliefs may be misguided, but their actions are correct. Can we join with people in seeking the common good? Can we pray for them, and maybe even with them? Can we meet them in their desire for life and goodness and point them toward what they may not even realize they’re searching for? Or will we remain prayerless like Jonah? Will we remain closed off to what God wants to do in and through us? Will we remain blind to communities full of people searching for life amidst death?
Jonah couldn’t do it. He couldn't see the opportunity for God's salvation to come in a profound way on this ship. He settled for being tossed into the sea, into the waves, into death rather than giving up his idol. But there is something beautiful and relieving in this passage:
God’s hands are not tied by our disobedience.
Then the men feared the Lord exceedingly, and they offered a sacrifice to the Lord and made vows
Jonah 1:16
These men start by praying to any and every god. They throw cargo overboard. They cast lots. They do whatever they can to find life. And they’re afraid. We see them grow “exceedingly afraid” when they learn Jonah is responsible for the storm. Death seems inevitable. But the scene ends with their fear properly directed. They “feared the Lord exceedingly.”
Jonah “fears” the Lord but only in lip-service. These men experience genuine conversion to God. They pray to him. They make sacrifices and vows. They give their lives to the one true, living God.
And Jonah, God's prophet, had nothing to do with it. He can take no credit. He would rather jump ship than participate in their salvation. Yet, God in his grace uses Jonah’s disobedience even for others’ salvation. This also foreshadows what God will do in Nineveh. God’s grace and mercy can overcome even the deepest evil.
This is the gospel in this text—the beautiful, relieving truth:
God’s hands are not tied by our disobedience.
Why not?
Because Jesus is obedient where we are not. While Jonah chose death rather than obedience—preferring to be thrown into the sea than pray for Gentiles on the ship—Jesus chose death as the ultimate act of obedience. Jonah’s “sacrifice” was actually just another form of running away, a final refusal to embrace God’s mission to those he deemed unworthy. But Jesus willingly threw himself into the storm of God’s wrath and judgment—the storm our evil created—laying down his life on the cross so that all might be saved.
Only Jesus was able to calm the storm for the sailors on Jonah’s ship. And even now, as we face storms and struggles, as we face our own disobedience to God’s call, Jesus shows up. He doesn’t sleep through our peril. He wakes up and calms the storm for us. He saves us over and over again. He knows we will fail. Even so, he chooses us—Gentiles, sailors, Hebrews, prophets, scared disciples in a boat—he chooses to save us through his perfect obedience, even unto death.
If we truly want to answer the call to love both our neighbours and enemies, we must first confront our own Jonah-like tendencies. Like him, we often flee from God’s inconvenient mission, seeking our comfortable Tarshish rather than challenging Nineveh. To overcome this, we must look directly at God's true face—revealed perfectly in Jesus. Not a deity of our selective imagination who demands only partial obedience, but the God who consistently turns toward the broken world, including our enemies.
In Jesus, God’s full nature dwelled among us, showing a love that extends beyond comfortable boundaries. Only when we stop running from what we see in his face—that he is a God of mission to all people—can we learn to love others with the same transformative love he has shown us.
The question remains:
Will we continue constructing our smaller gods that ask nothing uncomfortable of us, or will we rise and go where he sends us?