I have always been fascinated by the fact that there is not an up or down in space. What does looking downward or upward mean when floating in deep, dark, and empty space? To orient oneself, one would have to move toward a fixed and lighted object in space. I am reminded of this when I read the book of Jonah, “But Jonah made ready to flee to Tarshish, far west of Nineveh, away from the LORD” (Jon 1:3).
But which way does one go to flee an omnipresent God? We then hear the Lord hurled a wind and a storm so great that the ship was about to break (Jon 1:4) and Jonah makes his way down to the hold of the ship. When the sailors realize that Jonah was fleeing the Lord, unsurprisingly, he advises them to throw him overboard (Jon 1:12). Jonah voluntarily chooses physical and spiritual movements, downward and away, that give him a sense of fleeing from the Lord.
Theosis
But Jonah’s troubles did not end overboard. Here begins the involuntary part of his journey. First, he is swallowed by a fish and spends three days and nights in its belly. It is here from the womb of Sheol (Jon 2:3), that he finally remembered the Lord and cried out to Him (Jon 2:8) – his first voluntary choice of a movement towards the Lord. Thus, Jonah makes his way to Nineveh, in accord with the word of the LORD (Jon 3:3). The physical distances provide a poetic measure, in a sense, of the prophet’s disobedience and eventual obedience.
To me, they summarize the fall of man and the call to theosis. This journey to theosis is neither automatic, nor free from further error. When the Ninevites repented of their evil, Jonah is upset that God did not see through the destruction of the city (Jon 3:10). So, he waits under the shade of a gourd plant that gave him great delight (Jon 4:6). The next morning when the plant is destroyed, Jonah is more upset. But eventually Jonah comes to see that he was more distraught about a gourd plant being destroyed, than the loss of life from the potential destruction of a city. There is this maturation towards theosis that must come from the events we pass through in life – a perpetual pendulum of movement toward theosis, through and despite the errors we make.
Kenosis
In the story of the good Samaritan, a man making his way from Jerusalem to Jericho is robbed and left half-dead (Luke 10:30). A priest and Levite pass him and ignore him. A good Samaritan does the needful. Let us play the excuse game here. What if the Priest and Levite were concerned for their own safety? Maybe it was a well-disguised ruse, maybe they were rushing toward something more urgent and important. I am familiar with this game.
The maturation, mentioned earlier, that constant theosis, has another element to it, one of kenosis. The voluntary act of emptying oneself in the pursuit of theosis. And kenosis is hard. But, with years of practice, one eventually gets good at avoiding it entirely. Fortunately, like with Jonah, playing this game does land you involuntarily in Sheol. So, is that “lesson learned”?
I am afraid not. Here I am reminded of the man who worshipped from a distance in the temple (Luke 18:13). Sometimes, you need to be far away from the object of your true happiness, to recognize its value. Jonah had to go to Tarshish, to the depths of the ocean and Sheol before he made his move back towards the Lord. When he thought he was “closer,” he failed again.
The excuse game happens when the player has not yet recognized the object of the game and his own condition in it. Only when he does, can he also be directed towards it. Paradoxically, when this recognition is permanent, the closer and sooner one approaches theosis. Luke 18:14, “I tell you, the latter went home justified, not the former.” In space, there is not an up or down. If your voluntary movements are not oriented towards that object of light, you are just floating like a useless rock in the darkness of space. Likewise, all movement that is not oriented toward God leaves you no better than that rock. Amen.
