But we shrink from the severity of character which marked this prophet, who could contemplate the destruction of a large heathen city with stern satisfaction, and betray irritation because the mercy of God far exceeded his own. We imagine that, if Jonah had lived in these days, though he would have been a man of spotless integrity and unblemished life, he would probably have appeared as a severe master, or a hard landlord, far more just than merciful; that little ones, who "cannot discern between their right hand and their left," would not have clung to his neck, or smiled up into his face, reading there—as children intuitively do —the impression left there by a spirit of kindliness.
We contrast the character of Jonah with that of St. Paul; the hardness of the prophet with the intense desire of the apostle that sinners might be spared, and his readiness to spend and be spent for others: "To the weak became I as weak, that I might gain the weak. I am made all things to all men, that I might by all means save some." Paul's charity, like the gourd of miraculous growth, spread its glorious branches far and wide; nor did opposition, cruelty, or ingratitude, destroy its vigour or wither its leaf.
Perhaps the chief cause of St. Paul's tender indulgence and yearning sympathy towards sinners, is to be found in his deep sense of personal sin. When he was a proud, self-righteous Pharisee, we find in him no trace of mercy towards those who differed from him in religious opinions. We have no reason to suppose that the perishing state of the Gentile world ever then cost him a sigh. Saul might have seen a Nineveh destroyed with as much cold indifference as Jonah himself would have done. But he who deemed himself the least of saints and the chief of sinners, loved much, because he had been forgiven much; he delighted in dwelling on the free grace which had saved his own perishing soul; he felt that that grace alone had made him to differ from others, and his heart's desire was that Jew and Gentile should participate in the blessing.
Now, this deep sense of sin does not appear in Jonah. He confessed, indeed, to the sailors, that the storm was a judgment upon his flight from duty; but we discover in him none of the lowly humiliation on account of sin which marked a David, a Peter, or even a righteous Job. Perhaps the very nature of his punishment rather fostered the pride than abased the spirit of the prophet. The elements were moved on his account; his transgression had raised a storm—his generous sacrifice quelled it. God wrought a special miracle for his preservation from death. Then, scarcely had Jonah declared the Almighty's message to Nineveh, than the whole mighty city repented in dust and ashes. When did the voice of preacher ever command more sudden, more marvellous success? Truly, Jonah was set on a very high pinnacle indeed! He was reverenced by monarch and people as the inspired oracle of God. We cannot marvel that pride was fostered in the heart of Jonah; and are less surprised that it had such an effect upon his charity—that, to maintain his lofty position as a prophet, he would have been content that the judgments which he had threatened should all be terribly fulfilled.
How gently did God, in His love and wisdom, deal with the haughty Jonah! He who had seemed to grasp the thunderbolt was taught that he was but man—but a weak, sinful man. The bodily frame, once miraculously preserved, was shown to be subject to pain and fatigue, even like those of others; the mere force of the wind, the mere heat of the sun, were sufficient to exhaust its strength. Jonah was ready to faint. The soul that had been so lofty and firm in the prospect of instant death, was prostrated and brought to despair by the withering of a gourd!
Where was his courage—where his power of endurance? Jonah, under a common form of trial, shows, not the dignity of a prophet, but the impatient querulousness of a child. It must have been with shame that he afterwards recorded the almost impious complaints which bodily discomfort drew from his lips.
The story is abruptly ended. Jonah tells not the effect on his own mind of the gentle rebuke of the Lord; but we may trust that it caused him to bow down in shame, and search for the worm at the root, and learn to extend to others that mercy which he found that he so greatly needed himself.
What are our feelings towards "them that are without," those whom we deem grievous sinners, like the men of Nineveh? Is there a cold, self-righteous complacency, in the thought that we are not as they are-something of satisfaction in the belief, that, though they may revel in prosperity now, judgment will ere long overtake them? When the tower of Siloam falls, are we eager to show that those crushed beneath it were sinners above all that dwell at Jerusalem?
Let us beware of a censorious spirit, ready to judge and to condemn. If we see the leaf of our charity shrivelling, let us search for the worm at the root. Many a sorrow and many a fall may God permit His servants to suffer, in order to humble and to prove them, and to teach them, as He taught Jonah, that they are but dust. The most exalted saints have nothing wherein to glory but the Cross of Christ; through which alone they, as well as the lowest and worst of transgressors, can be delivered from the righteous judgments of God.
