The Passenger: Final

The man's appearance was both wild and arresting. He was the image of a lot of wandering yet not madness. He had the air of one who knew something everyone else did not. His hair grew in all directions and his facial hair hid half his face. He wore long, woven burlap that fell from his shoulders and pooled at his feet, it was interrupted at the waist by an animal hide sash. The general impression was one of bulk and hard living until you gazed into his eyes. They were the most unusual shade of brown flirting with black. And they were liquid pools of unfathomable depth that reflected the beholder's soul. On his face, serenity conducted an orchestra, almost like he had found the source of the universe or the key to ending the storm.
"Who are you?" They asked him.
"What have you done?"

Jonah’s statement was an admission of guilt.
"I am a Hebrew. I worship the Lord, the God of heaven—who made the sea and the dry land. I am His prophet." He paused before adding, "I am running from Him."

The men were terrified. There were all manner of tales about the God of the Hebrews. Now, this man had brought His wrath upon them.
"Why did you do it?" They demanded.
"What do we do to make the sea calm down?" Even as they asked the question, the sea grew rougher.
“Throw me overboard. Then the sea will become calm. I know that I’m responsible for this violent storm.” Jonah replied.

They did not like the idea. So, they rowed harder to bring the ship ashore, each entreating their gods—and even that of the stranger. Instead the storm became more tempestuous.

Out of options, they lifted their voices and cried out,
“O Jehovah, please, do not let us perish for this man’s sin, and do not hold us responsible for his death, for it is not our fault—because you, Lord, have done what pleased you.”

And they picked up Jonah and tossed him into the sea. The moment he hit the water, the storm ceased. The men were awestruck. They offered a sacrifice to the Lord, and vowed to serve Him.

From the belly of the sea, a never-before-seen, never-after-seen creature glided toward the sinking prophet and positioned ginormous jaws; he dropped straight into the belly of the huge fish.

Jonah spent three days plus nights in intestinal depths. Then he repented and prayed to God from his organic prison. He was now willing to proceed as directed. God heard and spoke to the fish. It obeyed.



Jonah stood contemplating the city shimmering in the distance—Nineveh (the city of Nimrod) the capital of the empire of Assyria. Its 1500 towers caught and reflected harsh sunlight and aided by the desert heat, created an illusion of being close and nothing more than a glorified settlement of raiding nomads with rather permanent structures. But he knew different. The city was so vast—sixty miles around, to be precise—walking through was a three-day endurance trek. The walls were 100 feet high and were so thick 3 chariots could go abreast on them.

This was his place of duty. After everything that had transpired he had ended up here—ferried by that which swallowed him.

This was what the boss wanted. The instruction had been relayed a second time. All of that day he walked till he was within the city limits. Starting from where he was, without any introduction, decoration or communication aid, Jonah began an assignment that would span three days:
“Forty days from now, Nineveh will be destroyed!”

JC © 2017

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