The Whisper

A poetic retelling of the book of Jonah – a story about loving our enemies, just as God has loved us.

The Whisper struck my heart,
churned up all my hate and fear.

 

“Go!
To the City of Terror,
the Kingdom of Wickedness.
Warn them
that God sees all.”

 

So I went
from The Seeing One
and hid in the bowels of a ship
bound
for the edge of the world.
But no sooner had we
cast off
than it stormed like never before.

 

I knew
He knew.

 

No! No!
Shut my eyes!
Plug my ears!
Dig deep into the baggage.
Don’t let Him find me!
Don’t let Him speak!

 

Hands grab my ankles,
drag me out,
“Get up! You lazy fool!
Cry out to your gods
that we may be saved!”

 

No! No! No!
Uncircumcised pagan!
You do not know what you ask.
You do not know what it means
to call upon The Living One!

 

“Jonah! Get up here!
The lots fall to you!”

 

Caught!
Cast me overboard!
That death and sea may hide me.

 

So I sank, sank, sank
under the weight of hate and fear
and begged to die there in the sea
and be set free from The Whisper.

 

But even there
It burned my soul,
wrapped ’round and ’round my bones.

 

Until at last with drowning heart

I called upon The Living One.

 

I woke
in deep dank darkness,
praised God for the breath of it.
For He had seen and He had saved
me from my foolishness.

 

And when upon the shore
the dreadful Whisper came again,
I drew a breath,
tucked in my fear,
picked up my feet, and
went.

 

Thus I came to
That Despicable City
and warned them
that God sees all.

 

And those terrorists,
they cried out to
The Seeing One,
repenting
of all their sins!

 

And God saw,
and God saved.

 

No! No! No!
You far-too-gracious God!
Do you not know what you have done?
Do you not know what it means
to save the Wicked Ones?

 

And I burned, burned, burned
with the fire of all my hate.
I begged to die there in the sand
and be set free.

 

I woke
in shade and comfort
from a beautiful leafy plant,
and praised God for the love of it!

 

But then I woke in
blazing sun
and had to watch the death of it.

 

And I grieved, grieved, grieved
in sorrow for the loss of it,
so deep
I begged to die.

 

And the Whisper said,
“Receiver of My mercy,
is the plant more than the city?”

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