The Sulking Prophet and the Scandal of Grace Text: Jonah 4:1-4
Introduction: The Theology of a Pout
We come now to the final chapter of Jonah, and what we find is not a triumphant prophet celebrating the greatest evangelistic crusade in history. We find a man in a profound spiritual sulk. The entire city of Nineveh, the brutal, pagan capital of the Assyrian empire, has repented in sackcloth and ashes, from the king on his throne down to the cattle in their stalls. And God, being God, has relented from the disaster He had promised. By all accounts, this is a revival that makes the Great Awakening look like a quiet afternoon. But Jonah is not pleased. In fact, we are told this great deliverance was a "great evil" to him. He is incandescent with rage.
This is a strange and unsettling reality. How can a prophet of God be furious at the mercy of God? The answer is that Jonah's problem is not a lack of theological knowledge. As we will see, he has an impeccable understanding of God's character. His problem is that he loves his nation more than he loves God's glory, and he hates his enemies more than he loves God's mercy. He is a nationalist first and a prophet second. He wanted to see the Assyrians, the great enemy of his people Israel, incinerated. He wanted fire from heaven, not forgiveness from heaven. When God showed mercy instead of wrath, Jonah felt personally betrayed. He had preached judgment, and he wanted to see the receipts.
This chapter is a profound mirror. We like to think of ourselves as being on God's side, but the story of Jonah forces us to ask a hard question: what happens when God appears to be on the side of our enemies? What happens when God's sovereign grace upends our neat categories of who deserves what? Jonah's anger is the anger of every self-righteous legalist who has ever lived. It is the anger of the elder brother in the parable of the prodigal son, standing outside the party, fuming that the father would dare to be so lavish with his grace on someone so undeserving. The book of Jonah ends with a question, and it is a question that hangs in the air for every one of us. Are we able to rejoice in a grace that we do not control, a grace that spills over the boundaries of our prejudices and lands on people we have already condemned?
In these first four verses, we see the eruption of Jonah's sinful anger, the accuracy of his theological confession, the desperation of his death wish, and the gentle, probing response of a patient God. This is not just about Jonah; it is about the collision between our petty hatreds and God's infinite mercy.
The Text
But this was a great evil to Jonah, and he became angry.
And he prayed to Yahweh and said, “Ah! O Yahweh, was not this my word to myself while I was still in my own land? Therefore I went ahead to flee to Tarshish, for I knew that You are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abundant in lovingkindness, and one who relents concerning evil.
So now, O Yahweh, please take my life from me, for death is better to me than life.”
And Yahweh said, “Do you have good reason to be angry?”
(Jonah 4:1-4 LSB)
A Prophet's Fury (v. 1)
We begin with Jonah's reaction to God's mercy:
"But this was a great evil to Jonah, and he became angry." (Jonah 4:1)
The language here is striking. The repentance of an entire city and the relenting of God is described from Jonah's perspective as a "great evil." The Hebrew is ra'ah rabah. This is the same word, ra'ah, used to describe Nineveh's wickedness in chapter 1 and the calamity God was going to send in chapter 3. For Jonah, God's mercy to Nineveh was as wicked as Nineveh's sin and as calamitous as its destruction would have been. His moral compass is spinning wildly. He sees mercy as malice. This is what happens when your personal bitterness becomes your theological lens. You start calling good evil and evil good.
And so, he became angry. The Hebrew says his anger "burned." This is not a mild irritation. This is a hot, consuming rage. And who is it directed at? It is directed at God Himself. Jonah is furious with God for being God. This is the very heart of sin. Sin is not just breaking God's laws; it is getting angry at God for His character. It is wanting to sit on the throne and tell God how the universe ought to be run. Jonah is not just disagreeing with a divine decision; he is objecting to the divine nature.
We must see ourselves here. How often do we get angry when God doesn't act according to our script? When He blesses someone we think is undeserving? When He allows suffering in our lives that we think is unfair? When His providence disrupts our plans? This is the anger of man, and James tells us that "the anger of man does not produce the righteousness of God" (James 1:20). Jonah's anger is carnal, selfish, and rooted in a monstrous pride. He is more concerned with his prophetic reputation and his nationalistic loyalties than he is with the glory of God displayed in the salvation of thousands of souls.
An Orthodox Complaint (v. 2)
Jonah's anger now spills out in a prayer, a prayer that is both a complaint and a confession.
"And he prayed to Yahweh and said, 'Ah! O Yahweh, was not this my word to myself while I was still in my own land? Therefore I went ahead to flee to Tarshish, for I knew that You are a gracious and compassionate God, slow to anger and abundant in lovingkindness, and one who relents concerning evil.'" (Jonah 4:2 LSB)
Here is the stunning irony. Jonah justifies his initial rebellion, his flight to Tarshish, with a perfectly orthodox statement about the character of God. He says, in effect, "See! I told you so! This is exactly why I ran away. I knew you were like this!" He is quoting from the bedrock self-revelation of God found in Exodus 34:6-7, where God declares His own name to Moses. Jonah's theology is impeccable. He knows God is gracious (channun), compassionate (rachum), slow to anger (erek appayim), and abounding in steadfast love (rab-chesed).
This is a crucial point. It is possible to have a perfectly sound doctrinal statement and a heart that is in utter rebellion. It is possible to know the truth about God and to hate it. Jonah is not angry because he misunderstands God; he is angry because he understands Him perfectly well. He knew that God was the kind of God who would forgive a city like Nineveh if they repented, and he couldn't stand it. He wanted a tribal deity, a God of Israel who was only for Israel. What he had was the Creator of heaven and earth, whose mercy is over all that He has made.
His flight to Tarshish was not an act of cowardice in the face of a dangerous mission. It was a theological protest. He was trying to outrun the grace of God. He was trying to prevent this revival from ever happening. He knew that if he preached, the Ninevites might repent, and if they repented, God, being the God of Exodus 34, would forgive them. Jonah did not want to be an instrument of mercy to his enemies. This is a sober warning to all of us who pride ourselves on our doctrinal precision. Right doctrine is meant to lead to right worship, which includes loving what God loves. When our doctrine becomes a justification for our bitterness, it has become a dead orthodoxy, a clanging cymbal.
A Desperate Plea (v. 3)
Jonah's rage and theological frustration drive him to a point of utter despair.
"So now, O Yahweh, please take my life from me, for death is better to me than life." (Jonah 4:3 LSB)
This is the cry of a man whose world has collapsed. His god, the god of his nationalistic imagination, has been shattered by the real God. He would rather be dead than live in a world where God is merciful to Assyrians. This is not the noble despair of a man like Elijah, who was exhausted and afraid for his life after confronting the prophets of Baal. This is the pathetic despair of a pouting child who didn't get his way. His life has become meaningless to him because God's mercy has triumphed over his desire for judgment.
What a profound indictment of his own heart. The value of his life was tied up in seeing his enemies destroyed. Now that they are spared, he sees no reason to continue living. This is what happens when we build our identity on anything other than the grace of God toward us. If your identity is built on your political tribe, your nation, your family, or your own righteousness, then when God's sovereign plan disrupts those things, your world will fall apart. But if your identity is found in Christ, then you can rejoice when God's grace extends to the most unlikely people, because you know you are one of them. Jonah has forgotten that the same grace he despises in Nineveh is the grace that rescued him from the belly of the great fish.
The Divine Question (v. 4)
God's response to this torrent of angry, suicidal despair is not a thunderbolt of wrath. It is a quiet, penetrating question.
"And Yahweh said, 'Do you have good reason to be angry?'" (Genesis 4:4 LSB)
The Hebrew here can be translated, "Is it good that you are angry?" or "Do you do well to be angry?" God meets Jonah's burning rage with a gentle, almost ironic, challenge. He doesn't rebuke him; He invites him to self-examination. He holds up a mirror to Jonah's soul and asks him to justify his own emotional state. "Jonah, look at this anger of yours. Is it righteous? Is it reasonable? Does it align with reality?"
This is the kindness of God that leads to repentance. Instead of crushing the rebellious prophet, God condescends to reason with him. He wants Jonah to see the absurdity of his position. He wants him to compare his petty, selfish anger with the boundless, compassionate heart of God. The question is designed to stop Jonah in his tracks and force him to evaluate the source and nature of his fury. Is this a holy zeal for God's glory, or is it the wounded pride of a man who wants to be God?
The book does not record Jonah's answer. He simply goes out of the city to sit and wait, perhaps hoping God will change His mind and burn the city down after all. But the question is not just for Jonah. It is for us. When we find ourselves angry at God's providence, when we are bitter about the success of our rivals, when we resent the grace shown to others, God comes to us with the same quiet question: "Do you do well to be angry?" Is your anger rooted in righteousness, or is it rooted in your own selfishness and pride? Are you angry for God's sake, or for your own?
Grace for Grumps
The scene is almost comical in its tragedy. A prophet of the Most High God is throwing a theological tantrum because too many people got saved. He is a picture of the ungracious heart that can exist even in a man who has personally experienced a miraculous deliverance.
And this reveals the heart of our own self-righteousness. We are all fine with grace, so long as it is directed toward us and the people we like. We are all for mercy, so long as it confirms our prejudices. But the moment God's grace gets "out of control" and starts saving the "wrong" people, the political opponents, the cultural enemies, the people whose sins we find particularly odious, we become just like Jonah. We start to think that God is being irresponsible with His mercy.
But the gospel is the story of God being gloriously irresponsible with His mercy, from our perspective. The gospel is that while we were yet sinners, enemies of God, Christ died for us. God did not save us because we were attractive. He did not rescue us because we had cleaned up our act. He showed mercy to us when we were Ninevites. Every one of us who is in Christ is a Ninevite who has been spared.
Therefore, the question God asks Jonah is the question the gospel asks all of us. Having received such an extravagant, unmerited pardon, do you have any right to be angry when that same pardon is extended to others? Having been welcomed by the Father when you were a prodigal, do you do well to sulk outside the party like the elder brother? The scandal of grace is not just that God saves sinners, but that He saves sinners we don't like. And our calling is to be so overwhelmed by the mercy shown to us that we have no choice but to rejoice when that same mercy is shown to anyone, anywhere, at any time.