When Grace Offends Our hearts
Jonah 4
What was it that brought you to Manchester?
Some of us came to study.
Some came for work.
Some came because we had to flee somewhere else.
Some of us were born here and have never left.
We're here for different reasons. Some intentionally; others almost accidentally.
But let me ask you a different question: what do you want for Manchester? And what do you want from Manchester?
Is it a place to be endured because of what it can give you? A city that has gone to the dogs but at least it still has jobs?
Or is it a great city? A place you want to give yourself away, for rather than take for all you can get from?
We’re in the last week of our series in Jonah and the book ends with an intriguing question. Verse 11, the Lord speaking: “Should I not have concern for the great city of Nineveh”
Let me bring you up to speed with where we are in the Book of Jonah.
Back in chapter 1:1 God orders Jonah to “go” to the great city of Nineveh and preach against it.
God says “Go” and Jonah says “No” jumping on a ship to Tarshish – literally the opposite end of the known world.
But God wouldn’t let him get away so easily. He sends a storm. Jonah is thrown overboard. He cries out for mercy. Is rescued by a giant fish and is spat out on dry ground.
Second chance. This time Jonah goes and preaches – not a particularly impressive sermon, as Malc showed us – and the response is spectacular. Everyone – from the tiniest toddler to the oldest pensioner cry out for mercy. And the Lord relents – v. 10.
Now if this were a Hollywood movie, it would end right there.
Nineveh celebrating. Jonah the hero. Hans Zimmer kicks in and we roll the credits.
But God isn't finished.
Because the story doesn't end with Nineveh's repentance. It ends with Jonah's anger.
He’s in such a rage that he wants to die – v. 3.
I want us to think about why today.
Why was Jonah so angry? Why has he lost all perspective?
But firstly, notice how kind the Lord is to him.
Jonah has been a pretty lousy prophet. He’d run in the opposite direction. Preached a completely naff sermon. And then got ticked off with God when the people responded.
God would be well within his rights to zap Jonah – or at least give up on him.
But he doesn’t. Instead, he gently asks questions that expose Jonah’s twisted heart towards God and towards the city he was sent to.
And I want us to let the passage ask us two questions today that challenge our attitude towards Manchester:
The first one is this from vv. 1-4: Do you think you’re better than others?
- Do you think you’re better than others?
Verse 1: Jonah is angry.
Now why is Jonah so angry?
Why do you get angry?
I sometimes get angry when I’ve had a really bad day. When sermon prep’s been hard. Or things have been difficult at home. I feel like a failure and get angry.
Is that what’s going on with Jonah? Is he fearing that the thousands of pagans in Nineveh won’t respond to his preaching?
Well, no. Just the opposite Jonah isn’t fearing failure. He’s fearing success. Fearing that his preaching will work, and Nineveh be spared.
That makes him horribly inconsistent. Why do I say that?
Well, think back to chapter 2. Jonah is adrift at sea, he recognised his sin, cried out to the Lord, and gladly accepted grace: “salvation comes from the Lord” he announces in v.9.
But when the Ninevites seek the very same grace, Jonah is furious. Grace for me; not for them.
And notice the problem isn’t Jonah’s theology. He gets what God is like. In fact, he quotes Exodus 34:6 in verse 2, albeit in a comedy way:
“I knew that you are gracious and compassionate, slow to anger and abounding in love. And look at where it’s got us!”
Jonah doesn’t have a theology problem. He has a heart problem.
His doctrine of grace is orthodox but his attitude towards grace is not.
Jonah had become self-righteous.
What do I mean? Well, when we talk about righteousness today, we often think of religious people, moral do-gooders.
But everyone is seeking a righteousness.
I wonder whether you’ve ever seen the first Rocky film. It’s the night before the big fight against Apollo Creed and Rocky turns to his wife Adrian and says:
“I just want to go the distance … see that bell ring and know for the first time in my life that I weren’t just another bum from the neighbourhood.”
That’s righteousness. Everyone is seeking something which makes them right, which justifies their existence, that tells them they’re not a bum.
But Jonah’s problem was that he was looking for that in something other than God.
Did you notice the difference between Jonah’s prayer here and his prayer back in chapter 2?
Chapter 2 is full of God– you, your, you.
Chapter 4 is full of Jonah (v. 2) – I, me, my.
In chapter 2, Jonah says: “God, you’re right and I’m wrong.”
In chapter 4, he says: “God, I’m right and you’re wrong.”
He is seeking to find his righteousness in himself. And it’s so subtle and easy to fall into.
Because Jonah doesn’t deny he needs some grace. He just thinks there should be a limit to it.
As Matt showed three weeks ago, there were hints of that even in chapter 2, where Jonah slips into preachy language about those who cling to worthless idols: a nod, nod, wink, wink to the pagan sailors of chapter 1.
Jonah thinks he needs grace. But only occasionally and not much, because basically he’s a decent person.
He’s a Jew after all.
More than that, he’s a prophet.
More than that, he’s a faithful prophet. Yeah, there was the whole of chapter 1 but eventually he obeyed.
And so, the grace of chapter 2 was justified.
But grace towards Nineveh? A city full of idolaters who have a track record for flaying their enemies and have their eyes firmly set on Israel? No way!
You see, Jonah had fallen into the trap of thinking the world contains two groups:
Sinners like him. People who mess up, yeah, but are basically good.
And then real sinners. Murderers, rapists, Man City supporters and Ninevites.
In Jonah’s mind, God’s grace is for people like him, not for those terrible people.
But that’s not what the Bible teaches at all. It is God’s grace from beginning to end. His righteousness not ours.
Alex Nsengimana was a tiny boy during the Rwandan genocide of 1994. Militia turned up at the house where he lived with his uncle and aunt. They shot his uncle twice. Discovering he wasn’t yet dead, they beat him to death. Among the killers was one of Alex’s neighbours, Niyoneza.
Years later, Alex, now a Christian, returned to Rwanda and obtained
permission to enter Kigali’s largest prison to visit the man who killed his uncle.
A late afternoon storm was bringing torrents of rain. Niyoneza, short, slight in an orange prison jumpsuit, edged into the room.
Alex sat down and began to speak:
“I am Alex. My uncle was Karara. Would you please tell me how my uncle was killed?”
Niyoneza told the story of that terrible day concluding: “I don’t know what came over us. We killed everybody.”
Alex took a deep breath:
“I’m not here to accuse you, though you wronged me… I am here because I saw how God’s power works in forgiveness. I received that power. I really want to forgive you. I don’t have any hate in my heart toward you. You should also ask God’s forgiveness.”
That’s what Jonah missed. Amazing grace.
There are not two groups. There is no them and us. There is one group: sinners in need of grace.
Have you realised that today?
Can I speak to you if you’re sitting here today and thinking: “Ralph, you just don’t get it. You can’t even begin to imagine the sort of thing I’ve done. The people I’ve hurt. The carnage I’ve caused. No one could forgive me.”
I hear you. But please hear this.
Jesus died on the cross. He went through hell. He took on himself the eternal punishment of God for the sins of every person who ever trusts in Him.
He took the sin of the Ninevites who flayed their enemies alive.
He took the sin of the Roman soldiers who drove the nails through his wrists.
He took the sin of the countless murderers, rapists, abusers and tyrants since, who have put their trust in him.
Do you really think you’ve found a way of sinning that no one else in two thousand years has managed to find?
God’s grace is available to you if only you’d receive it.
But can I speak to the rest of us who don’t struggle to think that God’s grace extends to us?
Is it possible we’ve become like Jonah?
Thinking we’re better than others?
Two tests.
The first checks your attitude to yourself.
Self-righteousness doesn't always sound like “I'm better than everyone else.” Sometimes it sounds like, “I deserve better.”
I deserve to be married, given the sacrifices I’ve made for God by not dating a non-Christian.
I deserve a better job, given how hard I work.
I deserve my own children, given how hard I’ve laboured on City Kids.
I deserve to be in leadership, given how faithfully I lead Bible studies.
I deserve not to have this chronic illness, given how much more seriously I take my faith than others.
Self-righteousness isn't simply thinking I'm better than you. It's believing God owes me because of who I am or what I've done.
Have you fallen into self-pity? I know I have.
That’s the first test of self-righteousness.
The second test is our attitude to others.
This is harder to spot because few of us are as brazen as Jonah. He was an out-and-out racist.
But self-righteousness usually works more subtly than that.
It creates distance.
It makes us want to stay away from people who are different from us. People whose lives are complicated. Whose politics or viewpoints annoy us.
So let me ask you:
How many of us find ourselves talking to the same people after church every Sunday? People we feel comfortable with. People who look like us, speak like us, live in the same parts of the city as us?
How many of us assume, perhaps because of the colour of someone's skin, their background or even the church they attend, that they're probably a cultural Christian rather than a real one?
How many of us love the idea that City Church is a church that “loves the city” - but would rather do that from a comfortable distance? We love Manchester as an idea, but not the people and places that make it complicated. That’s why we live in the suburbs.
How many of us are relieved that hardship request gets passed to the deacons, because it means we don’t have to get directly involved with someone whose life is messy?
Because here's what self-righteousness does.
It divides the world into us and them.
People like us.
And people who need fixing.
People whose sins we sympathise with.
And people whose sins disgust us.
People we are happy to welcome.
And people we’d rather other people look after.
Do we share Jonah’s attitude?
If we do, we will want to take from the city rather than give ourselves away for the city.
- Do you love stuff or people?
The second question our passage asks us is: “Do you love stuff more than people?” That’s verses 5-11.
Jonah is furious, but he still harbours a glimmer of hope that God might go ahead and rain down hellfire on Nineveh.
So, he marches out to a spot east of the city – v 5. And there he finds the perfect ridge, folds his arms, and waits for the fireworks.
But the desert sun beats down and he starts to melt.
Then, v 6, the Lord causes a leafy plant, probably a castor oil plant, to shoot up.
It gives far better shade than Jonah’s makeshift shelter, and we read, verse 6, that “Jonah was exceedingly happy about the plant.”
But at break of dawn the next day, God provides a worm to destroy the plant.
And an east wind to give Jonah the worst case of sunstroke he’s ever had.
And we read again that Jonah was so mad he wanted to die – v. 8. And in case we miss the point – Jonah says it again in verse 9
What on earth is going on? Notice the repetition.
God provided the leafy plant.
God provided the worm to eat it.
God provided a scorching east wind.
You know the moment at the doctors. You’re on the bed and she presses on your stomach. “Does that hurt?” “no”. Press. “That?” “No”, Press. “Ow. Yes. There.”
That’s what God is doing. Three presses and on the third Jonah yelps. We’ve found the sore spot.
Because Jonah’s response is wildly disproportionate. He wants to die over the loss of a plant?
Why?
Because it took away his comfort.
Jonah loves stuff, specifically the stuff that makes him comfortable, and the moment it’s withdrawn, he’s furious enough to die.
Then God rams home the point, v. 10:
“Jonah, you have been concerned about this plant, though you did not tend it or make it grow. It sprang up overnight and died overnight. And should I not have concern for the great city of Nineveh, in which there are more than a hundred and twenty thousand people who cannot tell their right hand from their left – and also many animals?”
Jonah loves comfort for himself, not compassion for others.
Friends, I find this deeply convicting. I’ve lived in Manchester city centre for 11 years. Sometimes it’s hard. We have more cars than trees, more addicts than refuse collectors, more car parks than green spaces.
Sometimes I wish I lived on a beach in the Caribbean or in a farmhouse in rural Cheshire.
But I stay. Why?
Because people matter more than plants. That’s the message of v. 10.
Cities matter more than the seaside.
Why? Because they’re full of people.
There are more people per square mile in Manchester than anywhere in the country outside of London.
Do we love stuff more than people?
Do we care more about our own comfort than the lost?
In 1810, Adoniram Judson, wrote a letter to John Hasseltine, asking for his daughter Ann’s hand in marriage. Adoniram, felt called by God to go to East Asia as a missionary. This is what he wrote:
“Before you give your consent, I want you to understand what I am asking Ann to undertake.
I am about to leave my country and go to the distant regions of the East as a missionary. I may never return to America. I may never see my family or friends again. I may have to endure poverty, hardship, loneliness, sickness, and many dangers… I may have to spend the rest of my life among people who are very different from us, with little opportunity for comfort or security. I may be exposed to disease and persecution, and there is even the possibility that I could lose my life…
I want you, therefore, to consider whether you can consent to your daughter becoming my wife under such circumstances. I know that this is a serious request.”
That’s some proposal. After prayer and reflection, Ann and her father said yes.
And as a result, the Burmese Church in modern day Myanmar was established. The entire Bible was translated into Burmese by 1834. 63 churches were planted and 7,900 new believers were baptised.
Do we love stuff more than people?
Are we in Manchester for what we can take from it. Or what we can give to it?
Nineveh was the largest city of its day:120,000 people. A mega city.
But that’s barely the population of students in Manchester today, and less than 5% of the metropolitan area.
Should we not have concern for the great city of Manchester?
And notice, God’s concern isn’t only for the people. He even mentions the animals – v. 11. You see, God cares about the whole city.
And that gives us a bigger vision of what it means to love a city. We should care about its people, its families and communities but also about its schools, its businesses, its vulnerable, its culture, its future.
I wonder, if it was us standing in front of the Lord instead of Jonah, what would he say?
Is it right for you to be angry about not getting the job you want? Should you not be concerned about the millions of people in Manchester who are heading to an eternity in hell?
Is it right to be angry about Man City potentially getting relegated? Should you not be concerned about the state of adult social care in Manchester?
Is it right to be angry you’re still single? Should we not be concerned about the tens of thousands of children growing up in Manchester who don't yet know Jesus?
That would be radical. So what will move us from “what can I take from the city?” to “what can I give?”
Not simply trying to love Manchester more. Jonah couldn’t change his own heart, and nor can we.
So where should we look?
To another man who stood outside a city.
You see Jonah stood outside the city of Nineveh to watch it burn.
Jesus, Matthew 23 tells us, stood outside Jerusalem and wept over it.
Jonah went outside the city to watch it get judged.
Jesus went outside the city to be judged in its place.
Jonah took joy in his own comfort and in his enemies’ pain.
Jesus, out of love for his enemies, gave up his own comfort and endured unspeakable pain for them.
Jonah thought he was better than others.
Jesus the only one who truly was, took our sin upon himself and said: “Father forgive them for they know not what they do”
The Book of Jonah is left hanging with a question.
Verse 11: “Should I not have concern for the great city?”
We’re supposed to answer the question ourselves.
The Jews have an ancient festival called the Day of Atonement. They celebrated it just a couple of weeks ago. Historically on the festival, the high priest would lay his hands on a goat symbolically transferring the sins of the people onto the goat and then kill it. The goat died in the place of the people – taking the punishment they deserved. It was a picture pointing forwards to Jesus.
But before they did that – the assembled Jews would read the Book of Jonah. They still do that today. Because we are Jonah.
We are Jonah City Church.
So will you let Jesus and his death in your place melt your heart today?
Will you let him humble you?
Will you stop asking, what can I take from Manchester?
And instead recognise that because Jesus gave himself away for us, we can give our life away for this great city.
