The Pity of God and the Pettiness of Men Text: Jonah 4:9-11
Introduction: The Final Examination
We come now to the end of the book of Jonah. And we must see that the entire book has been a divine setup. God has not been primarily interested in the salvation of Nineveh, though He accomplished that with what appears to be minimal effort. No, the central project of this book, the great fish, the storm, the plant, the worm, and the wind, has been the education, the dismantling, and the reconstruction of one man: Jonah, son of Amittai. Nineveh was the classroom, but Jonah was the student. And here, in these final verses, we have the final exam. The book ends with a question, and it is a question that hangs in the air not just for Jonah, but for every one of us who has ever resented the grace of God shown to our enemies.
Jonah is a book about the breathtaking, scandalous, and untamable mercy of God. And Jonah, the prophet of God, hates it. He is a nationalist, a partisan, a man who believes that God's mercy should run along tidy, predictable, nationalistic lines. He is fine with grace for "us," but grace for "them" is an outrage. He would rather die than see God bless the wicked Assyrians. And so, God, in His severe mercy, corners His prophet. He has stripped him of his pride, rescued him from the deep, and used his sullen obedience to save a great city. Now, sitting outside that city, Jonah is angry enough to die because a plant that gave him shade has withered. His sense of justice is entirely inverted. He is a tragic and pathetic figure, but if we are honest, he is a mirror. God now presses the point with a final, devastatingly simple question that exposes the chasm between the heart of God and the heart of fallen man.
The Text
Then God said to Jonah, “Do you have good reason to be angry about the plant?” And he said, “I have good reason to be angry, even to death.” Then Yahweh said, “You had pity on the plant for which you did not work and which you did not cause to grow, which came to be overnight and perished overnight. So should I not have pity on Nineveh, the great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know the difference between their right and left hand, as well as many animals?”
(Jonah 4:9-11)
The Prophet's Ridiculous Rage (v. 9)
God begins the cross-examination with a simple, pointed question.
"Then God said to Jonah, 'Do you have good reason to be angry about the plant?' And he said, 'I have good reason to be angry, even to death.'" (Jonah 4:9)
This is the second time God has asked Jonah if his anger is justified. The first time, in verse 4, Jonah was angry that God had spared Nineveh. Now, his anger is focused on the death of a plant. Notice the utter irrationality of Jonah's position. His emotional thermostat is broken. He is furious over the loss of a vegetable, a temporary comfort, but he was also furious over the salvation of hundreds of thousands of human souls. His priorities are a universe away from God's.
God's question, "Do you have good reason to be angry?" is a gentle invitation to self-examination. It is a lifeline thrown to a man drowning in his own bitterness. But Jonah will not take it. He doubles down. "I have good reason to be angry, even to death." This is not just frustration; it is a theological tantrum. Jonah is claiming that his anger is righteous. He is so convinced of his own rightness and God's wrongness that he would rather die than live in a world governed by such a merciful God. His anger is suicidal. This is what happens when our personal comfort or our political agenda becomes our idol. When God thwarts that idol, our world collapses, and we find ourselves, like Jonah, wishing for death. Jonah's problem is not a lack of theological knowledge. He knew God was gracious (4:2). His problem is that he hated that God was gracious to people he despised.
God's Devastating Logic (v. 10)
Having exposed the depth of Jonah's sinful anger, God now dismantles it with a calm, logical comparison.
"Then Yahweh said, 'You had pity on the plant for which you did not work and which you did not cause to grow, which came to be overnight and perished overnight.'" (Jonah 4:10)
God's argument is an argument from the lesser to the greater, an a fortiori argument. He says, "Jonah, let's analyze your pity. You feel sorry for this plant." The word for pity here is a deep, visceral compassion. Jonah felt something for this plant. But God points out three things about this plant that make Jonah's pity for it, when compared to his hatred for Nineveh, utterly absurd.
First, Jonah "did not work" for it. He had no investment in it. God sovereignly appointed it to grow. Jonah just sat under it. Second, he "did not cause it to grow." He had no creative part in its existence. He was a mere beneficiary. Third, it was temporary. It "came to be overnight and perished overnight." It was a fleeting, transient thing. Jonah's pity was for a thing he had no claim on, no part in making, and that had no lasting significance. His compassion was cheap, sentimental, and entirely self-referential. He was not sad for the plant's sake; he was sad for his own loss of shade.
This is a picture of all worldly compassion that is not rooted in the character of God. It is sentimental. It attaches itself to things that are temporary and often trivial. Our culture will weep over a wounded animal while advocating for the slaughter of unborn children. It will rage over a perceived slight while ignoring true injustice. Like Jonah, its pity is a disordered, self-serving emotion, not a righteous, God-centered affection.
The Boundless Pity of God (v. 11)
God now delivers the final, unanswerable conclusion to His argument.
"So should I not have pity on Nineveh, the great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know the difference between their right and left hand, as well as many animals?" (Jonah 4:11)
The "So" at the beginning connects everything. "If you, Jonah, in your selfish state, can feel pity for a worthless, temporary plant that you had nothing to do with, then should not I, the Creator and Sustainer of all things, have pity on this great city?" Every point of contrast is sharp. Jonah had no investment in the plant; God created Nineveh. Jonah did not make the plant grow; God sustained every life in that city, giving them breath and being. The plant was temporary; these are eternal souls made in His image.
God gives two reasons for His pity. First, the sheer number of people: "more than 120,000 persons." God is not a tribal deity. His compassion is not limited by ethnicity or geography. He is the God of the multitudes. But it is the description of these people that is most striking: they "do not know the difference between their right and left hand." This is not a comment on their intelligence. It is a profound statement of their spiritual and moral ignorance. They are utterly lost. They are morally incompetent, spiritually blind, wandering in a deep, profound darkness. They do not even know enough to know that they are lost. And this helplessness, which to Jonah was a reason for judgment, is to God a reason for pity. He sees their pathetic, lost condition, and His heart goes out to them.
And then, God adds a final phrase that must have bewildered Jonah: "as well as many animals." Why does God mention the cattle? This is a radical, worldview-shattering statement. God's pity, His covenantal concern, extends to His entire creation. He is the Creator of the livestock as well as the people. He cares for them. This is a direct rebuke to Jonah's man-centered, narrow-minded theology. Jonah cared about his own comfort. God cares about the entire created order. This reminds us that redemption is cosmic in its scope. The whole creation groans, waiting for the revealing of the sons of God (Romans 8:22). God's plan is not just to save some souls out of a sinking world, but to redeem the entire cosmos. The fact that the animals of Nineveh were spared is a small picture of that grand, final restoration.
The Unanswered Question
And there the book ends. It ends with God's question hanging in the air. We are not told Jonah's response. And that is the point. The question is not just for Jonah; it is for Israel, and it is for us. Do we share the heart of God? Do we rejoice when God shows mercy to our enemies, to those we deem unworthy, to the morally and spiritually ignorant?
Or are we like Jonah, sitting under our little booths, stewing in our own self-righteousness, angry that God is not conforming to our political or cultural program? Are we more concerned with the withering of our personal comforts than with the eternal state of a lost and dying world?
The gospel truth is that we are all Ninevites. We are all people who do not know our right hand from our left. Before Christ, we were spiritually ignorant, morally incompetent, and deserving of nothing but wrath. But God, being rich in mercy, had pity on us. He did not send a reluctant prophet; He sent His own beloved Son. Jesus is the true and better Jonah. He did not flee from the mission but set His face like flint toward Jerusalem. He was cast into the storm of God's wrath for three days and three nights, not for his own disobedience, but for ours. And He emerged, not to preach judgment, but to proclaim a resurrection that offers mercy to all who repent, from every tribe, tongue, and nation.
The question of Jonah 4:11 is answered at the cross. Should God not have pity? He did. He poured out the ultimate pity by pouring out His own Son. And now He asks us, His redeemed people, the same question. Will you have pity as I have had pity? Will you love the Ninevites of your age? Will you carry my message of scandalous grace to those who are lost in darkness, knowing that it is my sovereign pleasure to save them, for my own glory and for the good of all my creation, even the cattle?