The sun was harsh and unforgiving, looming over the Lord's creations with fiery beauty and hateless fury. One such creation was a man from far away. He laid on a hill that overlooked a great city that sang praises to the Lord. But the man did not sing with them; he did not share their joy. Instead, he lay on the hill, possessed with scorn, drenched in his own sweat from being under the sun's brilliant heat. At least he was at first.
The plant was a young thing, a new creation, no taller than a man. Yet its branches grew far and hung over the man, offering him shade and a cool breeze against the sun's brilliance. The man was grateful for it, overjoyed even, to be spared from the sun.
Then evening came and then dawn, and unfortunately the first day for the young plant proved to be its last. A worm, as fickle as it was hungry, had found the plant and had attacked it, infesting its stem and devouring its leaves, leaving the plant without a means to live. So, it died, and withered under the sun, returning the man to the sun's mercy. An eastern wind followed the plant's demise, a sultry thing that blew harshly against the man as the sun's hateless fury beat down on him. It was then that the man in the midst of his discomfort called to the Lord for death.
"Do you do well to be angry for the plant?" the Lord spoke to the man.
The man responded, still possessed with scorn and anger, "I do, so much so I'd rather die."
"Do you pity the plant?" The Lord again asked the man.
"I do, for it offered me shade and shelter against this discomfort."
"And yet you did not labor for that comfort," the Lord retorted. "The plant grew overnight and died overnight, and in its short lifespan you cherished it and mourn its passing." When the man said nothing, the Lord continued, "So, is it not right I feel same for Nineveh, a great city home to more than a hundred and twenty thousand people? Is it not right that I feel same for a people who do not know their right hand from their left? Should i not feel pity for my own creation?"
The man said nothing. Instead, he glanced back at the great city and the cheers of praise that erupted from its people. And he hung his head in shame of his scorn, as the sun's brilliance shone over him and all God's creations.
THE END
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Jonah
Historical FictionA creative retelling of the biblical story of Jonah. Each part captures my own understand (with some liberties) of how I viewed each chapter of the original story. I very much would love to know your opinions of my retelling, and your interpretation...
