Belly Aches


Nearly a year ago, I was distressed to realize that I desperately wanted to be somewhere else, doing something else. I wanted to  be someone else. Felt burnt out at work. Phoned it in with my family and wondered if I would ever enjoy them the way I used to. Freaked out when I walked into the building where I’ve attended church for fourteen years and understood that I wanted nothing more than to run away from the cinderblocked place as fast as I could.

Instead, I grabbed my quilted scripture bag and hyperventilated until my breathing returned to normal. The disconcerted feelings did not go away. Whereas I had previously enjoyed ward socials, stake meetings, even satellite broadcasts, they now left a taste in my   mouth that reminded me of eating unripe persimmons – something unpleasant I couldn’t fully swallow.  Expectations I’d never chafed at before felt burdensome: “No, I didn’t want to bring a green salad for the Elder’s Quorum social”, “No, I didn’t want to tie fleece blankets for humanitarian kits”, “No, I didn’t want to learn how to prepare fudge using pinto beans.”

I wanted to commence a spiritual journey to somewhere else is what I wanted to do! I wanted to be transformed, yet I was all tied down in the same old obligations, including   an assignment to teach a lesson over the Book of Jonah during Sunday School.

It’s both a short book and a long poem, hilarious and heartwarming. I had always liked the humanity of Jonah – his rebellion, his cry to the Lord, his performance of duty and his immature defeatism. Preparing the lesson wasn’t going to be too bad. I dug in, remembering the details. Jonah was commanded to go to Nineveh, a hotbed of assumed wickedness, neither holy nor deserving nor familiar. He said, “No way” and headed to Tarshish instead, as far west as he could get from the inland city toward which he had been directed. Of course, the boat got caught in a storm and everyone on board started freaking out. Not Jonah, as he was snoozing, but the crew plead with him,  “What meanest thou, O sleeper?”

After he admitted he’d made an oopsie, and suggested that the mariners toss him overboard, he was swallowed by an enormous fish, then spent three days praying to God, promising to get back on track.  Jonah was commanded a second time to travel to Nineveh, and after being vomited out, he did as he was told. He marched into the city preaching repentance and impending destruction. Lo, those Ninevites listened to him. They were crazy into the sackcloth and ashes, totally digging his sermons! Disaster was averted.

“But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was very angry.” He left the city to pout a little, hoping that God would yet blast ’em, undeserving as he perceived them to be. Faster than a time-release film, God grew a leafy gourd to provide shade for the petulant prophet. Just when Jonah felt “exceeding glad,” God then sent along a worm that killed the plant  and killed the shade. As Jonah wished for death, battered by a divine gust of wind, God asked him, in a very Socratic fashion, why he would possess greater love for a plant than an entire city of human beings. (And cattle.) Were those people somehow less valuable than a leaf?

I chewed on the question for a moment, and was transported into a dusty vision of Jonah and me. A little bit “Sliding Doors”, but more Old Testament. In this vision, I saw myself on a spiritual journey, roused from sleepiness and full of complaints, just like the character in the ancient tale. Like our man in the whale, I too had previously slept through opportunities, especially stormy ones, for spiritual growth.

I too had spent some time inside a great beast praying blindly. Sure, that beast was my own head, not a marine creature, but I was still working to recover my land legs. Like Jonah, I often got annoyed. In fact, some residual irritation flared up as I thought about my congregation. What were they doing in my spiritual journey epiphany? My ward felt worse than Nineveh.

Oh, snap. My ward  was my Nineveh.

I started hyperventilating again.

My  Nineveh, a place filled with people I wanted to flee, but perhaps a place where I could still learn something. Was I judging these church members as unworthy of my time or attention?

God had observed Jonah’s disgust at the  forgiveness of Nineveh, and God called him on it, asking, “Doest thou well to be angry?” Was I doing well to be so angry? Was I being as contemptuous as the judgmental Jonah, who answered God: “I do well to be angry, even unto death.” Perhaps I was, I admitted. I needed to stop jonesing for some ship to take me across the Mediterranean Sea (though I figure a trip to Greece wouldn’t imperil my spiritual development).    And just like that, the shade withered and the wind blew in, carrying with it these marching orders:

  • Be the kind of church member you wish others to be.
  • Don’t flee Nineveh. And good heavens, don’t sit outside the city walls and pout.

Even if he managed to get his heart in the right place – and the book leaves us hanging on that question – I doubt Jonah stayed inland the rest of his life. Maybe Tarshish got to be his  next destination.  There are many ports of call, for Biblical prophets and the rest of us. Not everyone who leaves a place is fleeing. But as I continue my spiritual journey, I want to be searching  for something, not merely running away.