Is it Right for You to Be Angry?

Sermon for Sunday, Sept. 20, 2026
Jonah 3:10–4:11 

If today’s sermon were a movie, this would be the opening scene:  I’m taking my morning walk a little later than usual – so, not in the dark but, instead, as the sun is rising through the trees at the end of my street.  Above the trees, the towering clouds are backlit, complete with silver linings.  On the sidewalk coming toward me is couple, maybe my age or a few years older.  They’re out for their morning walk, holding hands, unconsciously in step.  Meanwhile, as the older couple comes near, a school bus passes me and stops at the driveway a few houses up the street, toward the sunrise.  Down the driveway comes the excited six-year-old, off to his third week of first grade.  He’s trailed by his toddling sister and their parents.  The boy steps onto the bus; the dad scoops up the toddler before she manages to get on, too; and they all wave goodbye.

OK.  Hold onto that scene, and we’ll come back to it later.

Now our movie shifts to today’s Old Testament reading from Jonah.  Of course, our Sunday-morning readings always come out of context, dropped into worship with no explanation.  But this reading seems especially context-free.  We know the name Jonah – the guy who got swallowed by the big fish, right?  Well, this is that Jonah; but there’s no fish in sight.  Instead, Jonah is sitting on a hill overlooking the city of Nineveh – a metropolis of its time at 120,000 people, three days’ walk from end to end (3:3).  Jonah is sitting there, looking down on the city and … whining at God’s generosity of heart for having spared the city from destruction.  Jonah’s whining prompts the sovereign of the universe to ask him patiently, like a long-suffering parent, “Is it right for you to be angry?” (4:4)  God reminds Jonah just how many idol-worshiping fools were saved in Nineveh because they listened to Jonah’s warning and turned to Yahweh instead.

And that’s it – the end of the reading and the end of the book.  Kind of a terrible ending, right?  Who’d go see that movie?

It might help to know how we got there.  This book has only four chapters, so, it won’t take long to add some context.  Consider this our movie’s extended flashback.

Jonah’s story begins with God calling him to be a prophet, one of God’s spokespersons.  Jonah is minding his own business in his seaside town of Joppa when God says to him, “Listen, you know Nineveh, right – that huge city 600 miles northeast of here?  They’re idolators, worshiping their own creations.  They aren’t bad people; they’re just uninformed.  So,” God says to Jonah, “I need you to go to Ninevah and speak for me.  Tell the king and his people that, if they turn from their idols and honor me instead, I won’t light ’em up after all.”

That’s a lot for our friend, Jonah, to process. He gives it maybe not as much thought as he should before deciding … to run away.  Jonah finds a ship headed for Spain – literally the western edge of the world for people in Jonah’s place and time.  To Jonah, the edge of the world seems like a safe distance away from the God who’s calling his name.

So, Jonah gets onboard the ship as the ultimate bad-luck charm.  Out to sea, the ship hits devastating storms, and the captain starts asking around to see which of the crew might have offended his or her deity.  Finally, the captain wakes up Jonah; and by casting lots, they realize he’s the problem, having made Yahweh more than a little upset.  So, Jonah volunteers to be thrown overboard to save the ship – and it works.

But, as Jonah is sinking into oblivion, God sends – you guessed it – the famous big fish.  The fish swallows Jonah in the middle of the Mediterranean, swims back to Joppa, and vomits Jonah onto the beach.  Now, how does Jonah stay alive in the belly of the beast for three days?  As I used to tell my literal-minded daughter, “Don’t worry; it’s a story.”  Anyway, Jonah cleans himself up; and, no surprise, he finds God tapping him on the shoulder again.  “Hey, Jonah,” God says. “Remember Nineveh?  I still need that job done.”

So, begrudgingly, Jonah travels to Nineveh, takes a deep breath, and does what God told him to do.  Now, he’s got no confidence that telling people what they don’t want to hear is going to accomplish anything.  To Jonah, this seems like the ultimate fool’s errand, but Jonah has only begun to live into his own foolishness.  Because, it turns out, Jonah is God’s best spokesperson ever.  He tells the Ninevites they have to stop worshiping idols and turn to the God of Israel instead … and the Ninevites do it.  The king leads his people in repenting, wearing sackcloth and wallowing in ashes to beg for God’s forgiveness.  And it works.

Then the scene shifts to Jonah.  Instead of celebrating his success as God’s most effective prophet, Jonah storms out of town, climbs a hill by himself, and sits down for a good sulk.  The way he’d scripted this story, the Ninevites were going to get what was coming to them, and he was looking forward to some justice of biblical proportions.  Because, really, nothing beats watching people you don’t like getting what’s coming to them.  Nothing beats justice … at least as long as the justice isn’t raining down on you.

So, Jonah is incensed that God’s project has worked.  And that’s where we find him in today’s reading, sitting on a hill in the blazing sun, pouting at God’s failure to give the Ninevites what they deserved.  “That’s not fair,” Jonah says.  “This gig as God’s spokesman wasn’t supposed to work.  I was just here to check a box and then watch God bring the hammer down.  Now, they all get off the hook.  And what do I get?”

So, God says to Jonah, “Is it right for you to be angry?” (4:4).

“Yes,” Jonah whines.  “I’m angry enough to die.  If you aren’t going to bring down justice on the Ninevites, you might as well kill me instead.  I’m done.”

Well, while Jonah sits and pouts, God gives him a little object lesson in what really matters.  God causes a bush to spring up and shade Jonah from the beating sun, which Jonah appreciates.  But then God sends a worm to kill the bush just as quickly, and Jonah goes right back to seeing himself getting the short end of the stick.  “If I can’t at least sit here in the shade, I might as well die,” Jonah says – “because clearly, God, you don’t care about me at all.”

And the story ends with God giving Jonah a shake of the head and saying, “Jonah.  Come on.  You’re mad because you lost your shady bush to a hungry worm.  But you don’t give a hoot about those 120,000 people you helped to save in Nineveh … “and also many animals” (4:11).

And, scene.  Fade to black, and roll credits.

Well, there’s the whole story of Jonah.  But even with the whole story, it’s still a pretty unsatisfying ending.  I mean, what happens next?  Does Jonah ever grow up spiritually?  We never find out.  Instead, the story ends with a gentle lecture from the Most High telling Jonah to get over himself.  No wonder all that we remember about the Book of Jonah is the big fish.

So, what are we supposed to take away from this ancient short story?  Well, first, maybe this:  When God asks something of you, don’t sail to the edge of the earth to try to get out of it.  And second, when you see other people being blessed rather than you, choose to see it through a lens other than fairness.  Maybe try gratitude instead.  Jonah looks at God’s mercy to the Ninevites, and he demands to know what the Most High is thinking:  “Why are you blessing them, God, and not me?  It’s not fair.”  God, the ultimate grown-up, doesn’t take the bait.  But here’s what God could have said: “You think you deserve better than the Ninevites?  Last I checked, Jonah, you skedaddled off to the edge of the world to get out of a job I gave you.  With that fish, I saved you from the outcome your actions deserved, so you might want to think again before you demand that I be ‘fair’….”  Well, we don’t hear God saying that in the story.  Instead, our Most High parent is content simply to ask Jonah to think again:  “Is it right for you to be angry?”

Of course, this story isn’t just ancient theological reflection.  Unfortunately, we can be Jonah, too.  Or, at least, I can be.

Go back to that scene from my early-morning walk.  The sun is rising and gilding the clouds.  A young family greets the morning with joy, their next day of normal life as good as it gets.  Their love shines like the sunrise – just like the love of the older couple walking toward me.  Hand in hand, their steps unconsciously synchronized, they’ve taken a thousand walks together and they’ll take hundreds more.  They are effortlessly, blessedly at peace.

But what’s the lens I’m using to shoot this scene?  I do smile as I take it all in – the family’s joy, the couple’s peace, the sunrise of hope, the Love of God that empowers it all.  But my smile is strained, too, as Jonah’s voice rises in the back of my head, whining about the unfairness of it all.  Sometimes, blessing and affliction seem capricious at best.  Where’s my walking partner, and where are the grandkids we’d hoped for?  Walking alone is not exactly the ending I wanted.

It’s a good, good thing that God’s a better storyteller than I am.  In the story of Jonah, leaving the ending open gives Jonah the chance to change his point of view.  Will he keep seeing the saving of 120,000 people as evidence of God’s unfairness?  Or will he use a different lens, and see blessing instead, and give thanks for the fact that he had a part in making it happen?

In the story, the choice is Jonah’s.  In my story, the choice is mine.