I know how Jonah felt.

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Lately, I’ve been fighting the temptation to run. Run from life. Run from my responsibilities. Run from the expectations placed on me. Run from my calling.

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Growing up as a church kid, I always found myself identifying with characters from the Bible. Usually the heroes.

I loved to think I was David taking down the giants in my life. I loved to think I was Samson, at least the heroic parts.

 

As time went on, I started to relate more with other people and moments in the Bible.

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I felt like David when he begged God, “Cast me not away from your presence.”

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I felt like Peter when he denied Jesus.

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I felt like Jonah who knew what he was supposed to do, where he was supposed to go, but didn’t want the burden. 

It costs too much. It hurts too much.

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When God called me to the ministry, I ran away for a few years. I justified myself every single day by saying,

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“I’m not sure if this is what God is calling me to do.”

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“God can’t use someone like me.”

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“I can’t do what other people do.”

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Like Moses, I rejected the calling of God because of my inability. I told God that He picked the wrong person. I don’t look like a pastor. I don’t live like a pastor. I’m far from perfect. I can’t lead. I can’t preach. I still find myself doubting all that God has called me to do.

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No matter how hard I tried to fight it and run from it, I couldn’t escape the burning inside my heart. 

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Genesis tells the story about a kid named Joseph who had dreams. He believed that God had called him to rule. He believed this even after his brothers sold him into slavery.

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When Joseph became a slave in Potiphar’s house, he did his job so well that he was placed in charge of the entire household. When he was falsely accused and sent to prison, he was placed in charge of the prison. Finally, when Pharaoh saw the anointing on his life, Joseph was placed in charge of Egypt.

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His surroundings changed. His situation changed. But his calling stayed the same.

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Maybe the reason for our frustration is because God places a calling on our lives, but doesn’t tell us how He’s going to get us there. Maybe the anxiety in our hearts is caused by God showing us how things could be, when all we can see are things as they are. 

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This is why out of all the soldiers of Israel, the shepherd boy was the only one who was bothered by Goliath insulting his God.

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This is why a group of uneducated, ordinary men couldn’t stop preaching about Jesus.

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This is why the Apostle Paul was persecuted. Beaten. Shipwrecked. Ridiculed. Killed for the Gospel. Compelled by love.

 

The Old Testament prophets spent the better part of their lives preaching without a single convert. They probably asked themselves, “Why am I here?” “Why did you call me to do this?” “What’s the point?” “Why bother telling people who don’t want to listen?”

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Much of the time God doesn’t respond to our questions with an answer, but with a burden. God allows us to feel the pain of His heart before offering the strength of His hands. He places a fire in your bones that you can’t escape. 

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This is why after the calling, comes the suffering. We suffer because we know what needs to be done but not how we get there. We suffer because God tells us the path but withholds His provision. However, God always gives us the faith to endure whatever He wants us to do next. The path to glory is always through the cross. Charles Spurgeon once said, “The Lord gets His best soldiers out of the highlands of affliction.”

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This fire drives us insane. It makes us feel misunderstood. It is the fuel behind our entire lives. It encourages us when we’re discouraged. It sparks us when we’re burnt out.

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And it’s birthed in our intimacy with Jesus. When each of the disciples were faced with death, I’m betting that they didn’t remember miracles. They didn’t remember doctrine. They remembered the face of their Savior. They remembered His blood cleansing their sins. They remembered His hands washing their feet. He was worth the pain. He was worth the time. He was worth the cross.

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After all these years, I’m still not over it. 

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We’re not all called to ministry. But we’re all called to love. To righteousness. To faith. We’re all called to know Christ and to make Him known.

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May God give you His heart.

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May you trust that, by the grace of God, you will always have enough to accomplish what He has called you to do.

And, until the day you die, may God cause a fire to burn inside your bones.