The Back Porch

I don’t know what fish I’m in, or where it’s headed.

I’ve talked about Jonah before. I’ve talked about how he ran from God, and even was willing to run from God to the point of his own death. God saved him from death by having a fish eat him.

Probably nicer to have been saved by mermaids, but nice wasn’t the point.
Tonight I wept. In Winona right now it’s 5ºF and there is snow everywhere. I’m in Costa Rica, where even now at 12:30am it’s still a balmy 69º  and no snow for a thousand miles. I’m in a paradise. Nice hotel, beautiful women, amazing sights, and it’s warm.

But I wept. Alone, sitting on the floor of the bathroom in total darkness.  Some of you know my story, and some of you don’t. Very long story very short. A year and a half ago my fiancée left me in an instant message.

How worthless am I?

Every day since then has been a challenge. I am perpetually nagged by a most profound desire to run away from everyone I know and be surrounded by strangers. Every morning I wake up wishing my first sight was a ceiling I didn’t recognize. If I had to sum up the ambitions of my life into a single statement, it would be to remain at least busy enough to prevent suicide. I am broken beyond repair.

I am in the stomach of a very big fish.

It occurred to me then that when Jonah said to himself in the darkness of a disgusting fish, certain of his own painful demise, “Yeshua Jehovah” that he was not pleading for his life. He didn’t say Jesus is God, so please make this fish spit me onto the shores nearest Ninevah. He simply and utterly acknowledged the work of God.

When this happened, God saved him.