Based on sermon delivered by Rev. Joyce Rodgers
January 24, 2026
Gordonsville UMC / Barboursville UMC (online)
When most people think about the book of Jonah, they think about the whale—or the big fish. The story is so familiar that even people outside the church often know that much. And for children, that focus may be just fine.
But for adults, the fish is one of the least important details in the story.
Jonah is a book we need when mercy feels dangerous and silence feels safer. It is a story that keeps asking a hard, uncomfortable question: Where is the church?
A Strange Prophet, A Stranger Book
Jonah appears among the Minor Prophets, but it doesn’t read like the others. It isn’t a collection of prophetic speeches or visions. It’s a story about the prophet himself.
The book offers almost no historical anchors. We are given a prophet’s name—Jonah, son of Amittai, which means Dove, son of Faithfulness—but little else. The author seems intentionally vague. It is not written as history, but as theological reflection, and that may be precisely why it matters.
This is a story less concerned with what a prophet says and far more concerned with how a prophet lives.
Chapter One: Running from Mercy
Jonah is introduced as a prophet—someone set apart, trusted, and spiritually authoritative. God calls him to go to Nineveh, a violent and brutal city, and to cry out against its wickedness. Notably, God does not specify judgment, punishment, or consequences.
Jonah immediately runs in the opposite direction.
Instead of going east to Nineveh, he boards a ship heading west to Tarshish—the farthest place imaginable. He goes down into the ship, down into its depths, and falls into a deep sleep while a violent storm threatens everyone else on board.
The pagan sailors panic, pray, and sacrifice cargo to save lives. Jonah sleeps.
When the captain finally wakes him and tells him to pray, Jonah only responds because he is told to. Even then, when Jonah realizes he is the cause of the storm, he does not repent or ask God for mercy. He asks the sailors to throw him overboard—choosing death over obedience.
Ironically, it is the pagan sailors who end the chapter praying to God and offering sacrifices. God creates faith even through Jonah’s refusal.
Chapter Two: Beautiful Words, Empty Faith?
God sends a large fish—not as punishment, but as rescue. Jonah survives, and from the belly of the fish he prays a stunning psalm of thanksgiving and praise. The language is poetic, faithful, and theologically rich.
But it raises an important question: Is Jonah transformed—or is he performing faith?
The prayer sounds sincere. His actions so far do not.
Still, God responds with mercy and gives Jonah another chance.
Chapter Three: A Sermon Without Grace
God again calls Jonah to preach to Nineveh. This time Jonah obeys—barely.
His sermon is one sentence long:
“Forty more days, and Nineveh will be overthrown.”
No call to repentance.
No invitation to turn to God.
No word of hope.
And yet, the entire city repents. From the king to the animals, everyone fasts, mourns, and turns from violence. God sees their repentance and relents.
Once again, God’s mercy shows up in spite of Jonah—not because of him.
Chapter Four: The Truth Comes Out
Now we finally learn why Jonah ran.
It wasn’t fear.
Jonah tells God outright that he fled because he knew God would be merciful. He repeats words found throughout scripture—gracious, slow to anger, abounding in steadfast love—but this time not as praise. He spits them in anger.
Jonah does not want justice. He wants retribution. He wants God’s mercy for himself and destruction for his enemies.
As Jonah sulks outside the city, God grows a plant to shade him, then sends a worm to destroy it. Jonah grieves the loss of the plant more deeply than he ever grieved the suffering of an entire city.
God asks the final question of the book—and leaves it unanswered:
“Should I not be concerned about Nineveh… and also many animals?”
Jonah’s Warning to the Church
Jonah is a mirror.
He is a prophet in title but not in spirit. He knows the right words but resents the wideness of God’s mercy. He believes God belongs to people like him.
And the book quietly asks: Are we any different?
Across generations, people have asked, “Where is the church?” Often, the question isn’t curiosity—it’s indictment.
I heard it from LGBTQ students who still loved Jesus but felt rejected by the church.
I heard it from Black pastors and theologians naming the harm done by white churches.
I hear it echoed in the words attributed to Gandhi: “I like your Christ. I do not like your Christians.”
Sometimes the church sounds less like good news and more like Jonah’s one-sentence sermon of rejection.
When the Church Shows Up
And yet—again and again—the church does show up.
When Renee Nicole Good was killed in Minnesota by a federal agent. People asked where is the church? They found the pastor and members of Park Avenue United Methodist Church around the corner caring for protestors as the church was confronted with pepper spray and pepper canisters.
When violence continued to increase and a five-year-old Liam Ramos from Minneapolis was flown to a detention camp in Texas, people yelled out, “Where is the church?” They found the over 100 clergy people sitting in at a Target.
When a man who came to Minnesota to spread a message of hate and was overcome by angry protestors, people looked on and wondered, “Where is the church?” A black man, who was a target of this man’s hate, rescued him. When he was asked why he did this for someone who should be his enemy, Isaiah said that Jesus is his model and said, “At the end of the day just show love to anybody. Just show love.”
When the people of Minnesota needed the world to hear what was happening in the Twin Cities, they needed to know, “Where is the church?” They found members of the church and clergy with stoles over parkas marching in subzero temperatures and demonstrating at the airport.
When federal an ICU nurse for the VA, Alex Pretti, was surrounded by agents, beaten, and shot ten times. Across the country, the people cried out, “Where is the church?!” They heard the voices of all God’s children of many faiths raised in song in Temple Israel in Minneapolis.
This is part of our Methodist story—from John Wesley’s insistence that there is no holiness without social holiness, to hospitals, schools, civil rights leadership, sanctuary movements, and public witness.
The church is called to stand between power and vulnerability—not as a political statement, but as faithful witness.
The Question Still Stands
The Book of Jonah ends without resolution because the question is now ours.
Should God be concerned?
Should the church be concerned?
When the world asks, “Where is the church?” silence cannot be our answer.
There is no single faithful response—only a willingness to say, “Here I am.” To be seen. To speak grace. To embody mercy.
So, as we consider God’s open question to Jonah, let us also consider –
Where does God need you this week?
