Dan Olinger

On How to Think about Enemies, Part 10: Why the Delay? 

December 15, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We turn now to a third prophet who will refine how we think about our enemies. He’s the prophet with the funny name, Habakkuk. He lived, apparently, just before Babylon began attacking Judah and taking her people into exile. This was a time of great evil in Judah—evil kings, evil priests, evil businessmen, evil everybody else. As a prophet, Habakkuk is grieved and troubled by the evil he sees all around him. He cries out to God, seeking answers (Hab 1.2-3), decrying the evil behavior of his own people (Hab 1.3-4).

Have you ever wished that you could just sit down and have a one-on-one conversation with the Almighty? Ask him pointed, specific questions, and hear his answers?

Well, Habakkuk is one of the few people who’ve ever been granted that opportunity. Though lots of people have cried out, “How long, O Lord?” (Hab 1.2), most of them don’t get an audible, verbal answer. Habakkuk does. And his book is a record of the conversation.

In chapter 1 Habakkuk asks God a question and receives an answer—which only raises a further question at the end of the chapter. Chapter 2 records God’s further answer. And chapter 3 wraps it all up, with an example that will put the finishing touches on our philosophy of response to our enemies.

Habakkuk’s first question to God is, “Why don’t you judge Judah’s evil?” (Hab 1.2-3). He describes the evil that is prompting his cry:

Violence (Hab 1.2). Interestingly for our day, this is the word hamas.

Violent robbery (Hab 1.3)

Strife and contention (Hab 1.3)

The Law is paralyzed and does not render justice (Hab 1.4).

Everywhere he looks, there’s evil (Hab 1.4).

Does any of this sound familiar? Maybe applicable to our relationships with our enemies?

The prophet thinks this calls for divine judgment.

And he’s right.

And now, uncharacteristically, God speaks up; he answers Habakkuk’s question.

He begins with a simple promise: I will indeed judge Judah, and within your lifetime (Hab 1.5).

And this tells us why Habakkuk’s question—“How long, O Lord?”—is unwarranted. First, he has apparently assumed that God doesn’t know about the problem; and second, that if he does know, he apparently doesn’t care.

Bad thinking, friend. God knows all things, and his heart is closely wrapped up in his creation and in his covenants. Delay doesn’t mean anything.

God is never in a hurry, because hurry is evidence of lack of authority and ability. Remember the White Rabbit?

God moves deliberately, authoritatively, and always exactly at the right time.

I suppose I should say that we shouldn’t be too hard on ol’ Habakkuk. His entire question seems to be prompted by his firm belief that God will do the right thing—so why isn’t he doing it?! It seems that his view of God is correct; he simply doesn’t understand the timing. We’ll see clearer evidence of this at the end of this chapter.

Now God expands on his answer. He is going to judge Judah by means of the “Chaldeans” (Hab 1.6)—essentially another term for the Babylonians (Is 47.1), who about this time (605 BC) have defeated Egypt at Carchemish (Jer 46.2), establishing themselves as the dominant power in the Middle East. Their infantry is intimidating (Hab 1.7), and their cavalry gives them swiftness of movement (Hab 1.8)—Blitzkrieg! They attack with the fierceness of wolves—”evening wolves,” who haven’t eaten all day and thus are ravenous, attacking with a violence that is only exponentiated by the taste of blood. A feeding frenzy.

When they come to a walled city with an established king, they will not be impressed: king, schming (Hab 1.10). They’ll simply build siege ramps—“heap dust”—and overrun the walls.

And when they win—and they will win—they give themselves all the credit; they are mindless to the role of the God who has decreed and empowered their victory (Hab 1.11).

These are evil, evil people.

Now, this raises a second question, doesn’t it? We’ll include the last paragraph of chapter 1 with chapter 2 in the next post.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 9: Why Will He Judge Nineveh? 

December 11, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Now that Nahum has declared the certainty and extent of Nineveh’s destruction, he explains in more detail why it is coming—what noted British expositor G. Campbell Morgan called “the vindication of vengeance.”

Chapter 3 begins with “Woe!” This word (hoy in Hebrew) is most commonly used to introduce a pronouncement of judgment: “Hey! Pay attention! Look at me when I talk to you!”

Nineveh Is Thoroughly Evil

Nahum 3.1 lists 3 reasons for the judgment:

The city is “bloody”; it engages routinely in violence. As we’ve noted, the historical record is filled with testimony to this practice.
It is “full of lies and robbery.” This would include, I think, the concept of idolatry, which is the worship of false gods—as we’ll see in a moment.
It is predatory; the Assyrians are always after somebody.

The next two paragraphs expand on the last two of these reasons:

Remember the “montage” from chapter 2? Now Nahum recalls it (Na 3.2-3) as evidence that “the prey departeth not” (Na 3.1).
And he specifies the “lies and robbery” (Na 3.1) as manifested in idolatry (Na 3.4). God regularly sees Israel’s idolatry as adultery, leaving a covenant relationship with the true God for a cheap relationship with mere idols (e.g. Hosea). Here he makes it clear that even for other nations, who do not share in the Abrahamic Covenant, idolatry is violation of a covenant. I think I see a basis for this in Romans 1.18-23, where God asserts that Creation itself is sufficient evidence for the worship of the true God. The rest of this paragraph (Na 3.5-7) describes the appropriate judgment for spiritual adultery—shame, contempt, and revulsion—in horrifying detail.

God Is Thoroughly Just

I’ve just said that the form of judgment, as violent and horrifying as it is, is appropriate. How can I say that?

Because God does right. He will cleanse his creation of the chaos and pain brought by evil actors through their evil actions.

Nahum begins by noting that God has done this before. He gives the specific example of Thebes (ESV; NASB “No-Amon,” KJV “No”) in Egypt (Na 3.8). Thebes, what we now call Karnak/Luxor, was the capital of Upper (Southern) Egypt, and a wonder of power, wealth, and architecture. In many ways it was even more impressive than Nineveh. And unlike Nineveh, which had engendered fear but not loyalty among the surrounding, conquered nations, Thebes had formed alliances—sort of a NATO—among its neighbors Cush (Ethiopia), Egypt, Put (Somalia), and Libya (Na 3.9). But in 663 BC God had destroyed it through an invading army.

Which army? Well, funny you should ask.

The Assyrian army.

If God could use Nineveh to destroy Thebes in recent memory (Na 3.10), what was to prevent him from using some other earthly power to destroy Nineveh?

So there. Q.E.D.

Nineveh, then, will be similarly destroyed.

What will she look like when the enemy invades?

She will be disoriented and ineffectual, as though drunk (Na 3.11).
She will recognize her weakness and look for a place to hide (Na 3.11).
She will fall easily into the hand of the invader (Na 3.12).
Her soldiers will be weak (Na 3.13).
Her fortifications will crumble (Na 3.13).
No matter what she does to prepare—store up water, make bricks, expand military forces (Na 3.14-15)—she will be defeated.
Her riches will be plundered (Na 3.16).
Her leaders will abandon her (Na 3.17).
Her leaders are apathetic—or perhaps dead (Na 3.18).
When she’s gone, nobody will care (Na 3.19).

And there the book ends.

Yikes.

What a laundry list. What a reversal. What a judgment.

So, what’s Nahum’s point? How should we think about our enemies?

Do you think that a perfectly just, infinitely powerful God can’t deal with your enemies better than you can?

I’m not suggesting that we should savor anticipating our enemies’ destruction; we’ve already noted that God loves our enemies as much as he loves us, and we should too. We should desire their repentance and faith in God, so that he will graciously forgive them, just as he has forgiven us despite the depravity and depth of our own sins.

But I am suggesting that our own efforts to harm our enemies are doomed to be incomplete, foolish, and feckless. This a job for the Creator of heaven and earth, the covenant-keeping God of Abraham, Isaac, and Jacob.

Our God.

Next time: one more prophet.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 8: How Will He Judge Nineveh?

December 8, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

In chapter 1 Nahum has stated that God will certainly judge Nineveh; now, in predictive prophecy, he describes it happening—not in a single report, but in a series of impressions flashing by, like a video montage. He addresses Nineveh directly, warning the city to prepare for the coming violence. A “smasher” is coming, and you’d better get ready (Na 2.1). How?

Keep the munition, watch the way, make thy loins strong, fortify thy power mightily.

Do what you can. But as the context makes clear, there is really nothing they can do to prepare for the attack of the “smasher.” His power is infinite, and his rage is intense—as chapter 1 makes clear. You’ve never met an enemy like this one.

In the KJV Nahum 2.2 sounds like judgment on Israel, but most of the modern versions render it as a promise of blessing:

For the Lord will restore the splendor of Jacob Like the splendor of Israel, Even though devastators have devastated them And destroyed their vine branches (Na 2.2 NASB).

Why this statement of blessing in the middle of a promise of violent destruction? Some interpreters have suggested that it’s an aside, as though God the “smasher” (and I say this reverently) turns to his people and says, “Watch this!”

Now come the flashes of battle vignettes. First there’s the red of the approaching attackers, the Medo-Babylonians (Na 2.3), then a closeup of the violence in the streets. Now image after image pictures the invasion and destruction of Nineveh (Na 2.4-7).

There’s some question about the word “Huzzab” (Na 2.7 KJV). It could be a place name or a personal name, as the KJV renders it, or it could be a verb meaning “It is fixed.” In either case the destruction is unavoidable.

The mention of water in Nahum 2.8 is also interesting. We know that Assyrian rulers had built dams to control the water supply. Now, Nahum says, “They shall flee away.” Does this mean that the attackers will flood the city, or that they will divert the waters so that the people face death by thirst? Again, neither possibility is any good for the Assyrians.

Now we see the ransacking (Na 2.9). Nineveh had extorted silver and gold by the ton from its conquered enemies in “tribute.” But now it’s all meaningless, because it’s all gone.

Years ago a property in my neighborhood held an estate sale. The late owners had been collectors of many valuable things; gold, silver, crystal, fine china, art. We watched as all of it went to strangers, mostly antique dealers interested simply in reselling for profit, in one afternoon. All the memories were gone. A vivid illustration of Ecclesiastes 12.

You can’t take it with you.

The chapter ends with a “sword song,” a taunt from the victor. The words “empty, and void, and waste” (Na 2.10) are deeply impactful in Hebrew: Buqah uMebuqah uMebullaqah. They hit like a series of hammer blows, reinforcing the violence and completeness of the destruction.

The Assyrian lion is destroyed, surrounded by wasteland (Na 2.11-13).

It’s been my privilege to observe lions in the wild many times. They are not afraid, because they have no predators. They hunt as they wish, but most of the time they sit in the shade of trees, a male and his pride, staring calmly into the distance, looking bored, and studiously ignoring the tourists and the clicking of their cameras.

But this lion has faced a predator that is infinitely greater than he is, against whom none can stand. His judgment is complete.

We today have difficulty comprehending the significance of this prophecy. Nineveh ruled the entire known world with extreme violence and cruelty. If you heard that the Assyrians were coming, you prepared to die, because they had power and reach all across the known world, and they were certain to crush you like a bug.

But in God’s economy, the roles are reversed, and judgment comes to those who justly deserve it. God deals with those who abuse his people.

In the next chapter we’ll look at why God chose to act this intensely against Assyria.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 7: Who Will Judge Nineveh?

December 4, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We turn to a second prophet, Nahum, for more insight into how we should think about our enemies. Nahum lived about a hundred years after Jonah, at a time when Nineveh was still dominant but about to fall. He’s much less well known than Jonah, for an obvious reason: Jonah is narrative, so his story gets told to all the kids in Sunday school.

Nahum’s prophecy is a counterpoint to Jonah’s story. Jonah is all about mercy; Nahum is much darker. The reason is not difficult to discern: Nineveh’s repentance apparently didn’t last very long, and the leaders returned to their cruel, abominable ways. Nahum tells us about what happens when mercy is ignored.

I’m going to use an outline provided by Willmington’s Bible Handbook: in laying out the judgment of Nineveh, chapter 1 tells us Who?; chapter 2 tells us How?; and chapter 3 tells us Why?

The whole purpose of Scripture is to reveal to us who God is, because knowing him is the purpose for which he created us. Not surprisingly, the infinite God is a complex being, an infinitely round character. There’s a lot to him. In this chapter he reveals his care for his people, which involves both lovingly recognizing and protecting them and also angrily—wrathfully—removing threats to their well-being.

The Lord is “slow to anger” (Na 1.3), but he also loves his people and is highly motivated (“jealous”) to defend them (Na 1.2). By Nahum’s time Nineveh has taken Israel into exile and has attacked Judah, breaking off their siege of Jerusalem only after the Angel of the Lord slaughtered their army (2K 19.35). The time for mercy is past; judgment is justly due.

And God is fully capable of rendering judgment against any foe. He dries up rivers (Na 1.4), which are typically obstacles to advancing armies; the NET Bible notes, “The Assyrians waged war every spring after the Tigris and Euphrates rivers dried up, allowing them to cross. As the Mighty Warrior par excellence, the LORD is able to part the rivers to attack Assyria.”

He is not only able; he is motivated. Nahum 1.6 includes four different words for anger, as though he is angry in every way possible (from the four corners of the earth?). When someone who is “slow to anger” is this angry, then his commitment to his people is absolute; he will certainly defend them. This is evidence not of smashing things in a temper tantrum, but of goodness (Na 1.7). We love it when a strong hero steps in to defend the weak, even when a Boy Scout helps a little old lady across the street. This is that exponentiated.

It’s true that Judah had faced an Assyrian invasion before Nahum, but now God speaks words of comfort to them:

“Though I have afflicted thee, I will afflict thee no more. ¹³For now will I break his yoke from off thee, And will burst thy bonds in sunder” (Nah 1.12-13).

And to their attacker he says,

“Out of the house of thy gods will I cut off the graven image and the molten image: I will make thy grave; for thou art vile” (Na 1.14).

This is good news to God’s people, and Nahum echoes Isaiah’s earlier prophecy:

“Behold upon the mountains the feet of him that bringeth good tidings, that publisheth peace!” (Na 1.15; cf Is 52.7).

We know from history that the Northern Kingdom of Israel could not have defeated the Assyrians, because, well, they didn’t. And we know that the Southern Kingdom of Judah couldn’t either, because God had to break the siege on Jerusalem by massacring the Assyrian army.

Even assuming that we don’t deserve what our enemies are doing to us—that they are acting unjustly—how likely is it that we’ll enforce justice better than the Almighty can and will?

Next time, we’ll move into chapter 2.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 6: Jonah v. God

December 1, 2025 by Dan Olinger 1 Comment

Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time | Part 3: Exemplary Pagans | Part 4: A Psalm | Part 5: More Exemplary Pagans 

Jonah’s story closes with a second conversation with God (the first being chapter 2). It begins by showing us Jonah’s heart, and it ends by showing us God’s heart. The contrast is instructive for our thesis.

Jonah’s Heart

The chapter starts with the word “but.” Following God’s forgiveness of the repentant people of Nineveh at the closing of the previous chapter (Jon 3.10), Jonah is deeply unhappy. God is pleased; the prophet is displeased. He wanted to deliver the message of judgment, but he did not want the evil ones to be forgiven.

And now we learn why he sailed for Tarshish—the ends of the earth—when God first commissioned him:

O Lord, was not this my saying, when I was yet in my country? Therefore I fled before unto Tarshish: for I knew that thou art a gracious God, and merciful, slow to anger, and of great kindness, and repentest thee of the evil (Jon 4.2).

“I knew you’d do this!” he rants. “I knew you were just the sort of person who would forgive them!”

How did he know that? He knew it because that is how God has revealed himself throughout the Hebrew Scriptures, beginning with Moses at Sinai (Ex 34.6-7) and continuing through Israel’s entrance into the Promised Land, and the Psalms, and on the return from Babylon, and (after Jonah) in the prophet Joel. Here Jonah is essentially quoting God’s words to Moses some seven centuries earlier.

And Jonah didn’t want that.

And this despite the fact that he had just been delivered from a destruction (Jon 2.10) that he completely deserved (Jon 1.12). Grace for me, he thinks, but not for thee. Because I hate you. You’re my enemy. I’d rather die than see grace come to you (Jon 4.3).

As at the very beginning of his story, Jonah’s will is at cross purposes with God’s.

Some prophet.

God’s Heart

God asks Jonah a simple question—“Are you doing right?” (Jon 4.4), and then the conversation pauses while God gives the rebellious, blindly angry prophet an object lesson.

This is the Mesopotamian desert. It’s barren, except just along the banks of the Tigris River, and it’s really, really hot. Jonah hikes up a hillside for a good view of the city, in desperate hope that God will nuke the Assyrians just as he did the Sodomites. He builds some kind of rudimentary shelter for shade from the sun—using whatever materials he can find in this desert—and he waits (Jon 4.5).

And God, the Teacher, causes a vine to grow up in just a day, a vine with good-sized leaves to give Jonah further protection from the sun (Jon 4.6).

Aaahhh. Thank you, Lord. You are so kind.

But the next day the vine withers and dies. And then a hot, dry desert wind, like a scirocco, arises and just saps the life out of everything, especially Jonah (Jon 4.8). Now he’s thirsty; he has sand in his throat and in his eyes and in his ears and he’s more miserable than he’s ever been, and on top of everything, the sandstorm is so thick that he won’t be able to see anything even if God does destroy Nineveh.

And now the conversation resumes.

You feel bad about the vine, do you? An insensate, transitory vine? (Jon 4.9-10).

What about all these people, who do live and feel and suffer? Including 120,000 children, too young to know left from right? (Jon 4.11).

What about the children, indeed.

And here the story ends.

We don’t know how Jonah answers, or whether he answers. We don’t know how or whether the conversation continues—is this a rhetorical question that God tosses over his shoulder as he strides, so to speak, out of Jonah’s life forever?

We know that at some later time Jonah writes the story down, or he tells it to someone else who writes it down, and that the account finds its way into the Israelite literary corpus and eventually the Hebrew Scripture. That gives us some hope that the old bigot came to his senses; perhaps he realized that at core, he too was an Assyrian. Or, as pastor and hymnwriter Chris Anderson has preached, “I am the Samaritan woman.”

But leaving the speculation aside, what do we learn from this prophet about how to think about our enemies?

Our first principle:

God loves our enemies just as much as he loves us.

Perhaps that’s why he tells us to love our enemies (Mt 5.44), and also to be like him (1P 1.16).

If you want your enemies destroyed, you’re doing it wrong.

If you would be pleased to see them judged, you’re doing it wrong.

Next time, we’ll begin our look at Nahum.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 5: More Exemplary Pagans

November 24, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time | Part 3: Exemplary Pagans | Part 4: A Psalm

Act II of this morality play, as we’ve noted, follows the same structure as Act I. It begins with God’s command to Jonah to go to Nineveh and prophesy (Jon 3.1-2). In chapter 1 the command was the same, but it was accompanied by a reason: Nineveh’s wickedness. The explanation obviously isn’t necessary the second time.

This second time, in stark contrast, Jonah obeys immediately. No doubt his experience of disobedience has motivated him to behave himself. So off he goes to Nineveh (Jon 3.3).

There’s considerable discussion about the statement that “Nineveh was an exceeding great city of three days’ journey.” That sounds at first as though it took three days to get there; but following the Fertile Crescent, which was the only way anyone could survive the trip, Nineveh was over 500 miles from the nearest part of Israel, a distance well over “three days’ journey.” Some scholars think the city was so large that it would take someone three days to travel through it, preaching along the way (cf. Jon 3.4). Others have held that it would take three days to travel its circumference. I’m inclined to agree with a recent theory that on official visits to highly important cities, diplomats would spend three days there:

“On the first day a state visitor (ambassador, visiting royalty, etc.) would arrive, get settled, locate the appropriate government officials and present credentials to them. On the second day the visitor would be received by the official(s) in charge and the desired business would be conducted. On the third day an official send-off would be provided, with any responses to the government of the visiting state handed over to the emissaries at that time” (New Bible Commentary).

Thus it’s a measure not of distance, but of geopolitical significance.

Makes sense, but I note that Jonah didn’t follow that procedure.

At any rate, it’s safe to say that nobody’s really sure at this point what the phrase means.

When Jonah arrives, he gets right to work, going directly downtown, so to speak, and delivering his exceedingly brief message:

Yet forty days, and Nineveh shall be overthrown (Jon 3.4).

And once again, the pagans respond better than the prophet does. They repent and believe (Jon 3.5). I note that those two actions are the very definition of conversion. The author seems to say that this repentance was universal in the city. Even the king repented (Jon 3.6) and proclaimed citywide repentance (Jon 3.7-8).

And he gives his reason: perhaps this foreign god will show them mercy (Jon 3.9).

I suppose we could question whether everyone was completely sincere; when an ancient Near Eastern potentate issues a proclamation, it’s wise to do whatever he says if you value your life. But God does respond favorably to this remarkable mass repentance (Jon 3.10); apparently it was good enough for him. Centuries later, Jesus would use their repentance as an example of what God wanted from his own chosen people (Mt 12.38-41).

Now, that raises a question. God didn’t say his threat was conditional, did he? Jonah, the prophet, had simply promised judgment. Did God break his threatening promise?

There are hints even in the prophecy that it might not be literally fulfilled—that God was offering them a chance at deliverance. First, he sent a prophet. Second, he gave them forty days to think about it. Both of those facts imply that mercy was available. And apparently the Ninevites didn’t need the whole forty days to make up their minds.

Why did they respond so quickly and decisively?

Assyrian inscriptions indicate that the Assyrians viewed certain omens as calling for fasting: invasion, eclipse, famine, and flood. One commentator notes,

“Before Jonah arrived at this seemingly impregnable fortress-city, two plagues had erupted there (in 765 and 759 B.C.) and a total eclipse of the sun occurred on June 15, 763. These … may help explain why the Ninevites responded so readily to Jonah’s message, around 759” (Bible Knowledge Commentary).

So did God change his mind (Jon 3.10)? I’ve written on that here before.

This account makes it clear that God responds with mercy to people who genuinely seek it. We know that judgment did indeed come to a later generation of Ninevites, but to those who pled, God was kind.

That’s part of what we’ll learn here in this series about how to think about our enemies.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 4: A Psalm

November 20, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time | Part 3: Exemplary Pagans

The disobedient prophet now finds himself dramatically rescued from drowning, but still in a difficult state: he’s in the belly of a great fish. He responds by praying, but not in the usual sense; he doesn’t ask God for anything, even though his circumstances are unpleasant. Instead he offers thanks to God for delivering him. We’re tempted to think that this means he has repented of his resistance to God’s will; but as we’ll soon discover, he has not. He’s apparently just relieved—very greatly relieved—that he’s not drowning anymore—as, I suppose, any of us would be.

This prayer of thanksgiving is actually a psalm. One commentator notes, “Thanksgiving psalms have usually five elements: (i) an introductory statement of appreciation for rescue; (ii) a description of the misery rescued from; (iii) a description of the appeal for rescue; (iv) an indication of the rescue itself; and (v) a testimonial or vow to continue to show gratitude via future worship. The psalm of Jonah includes all five elements, in the order listed above” (New Bible Commentary).

Naturally, there are sceptical scholars who question whether anyone could compose such a literary work under Jonah’s circumstances, and then remember it later to write it down. I readily confess that I couldn’t do it, but then, I’m not a prophet working under divine inspiration—and neither, I observe, are the sceptics.

We have what we have, and we have no sufficient reason to reject it as spurious. So let’s allow the psalm to reveal its standard form.

Statement of appreciation

Jonah 2.2 is a declaration of his rescue and a strong implication of his gratitude (“He answered me … You heard my voice”). He emphasizes this by saying the same thing twice in slightly different words—what scholars call “synonymous parallelism.” He described his state as being rescued “from the depth of Sheol,” or the place of the dead. Interestingly, it was a common belief in those days that the journey to Sheol took the soul three days and three nights. The last verse of chapter 1 reports that that was how long Jonah spent in the fish’s stomach—an experience, then, of death itself.

Misery Rescued From

Jonah turns to describing the condition he was in before his rescue (Jon 2.3-6).

Note that he says that God, not the sailors, “cast [him] into the deep.” He recognizes the sailors as simply the agents of divine providence.

“The deep” or “the roots of the mountains” may not mean literally the very bottom of the Mediterranean; its average depth is nearly a mile, and of course no one could hold his breath for the time needed to reach that depth. Hyperbole is one of many figures of speech commonly used in poetry. But he was in way over his head—literally—and he had no hope of survival apart from God’s intervention.

Appeal for Rescue

His appeal covers just one verse, Jonah 2.7.

Jonah the rebellious prophet did what anybody of any spiritual state would do facing death: he prayed. And God heard him, and he suddenly found himself no longer drowning. How long it took him to figure out where he was we can’t know. He knew the place smelled bad, but he also knew he could breathe. To a drowning man, that is literally the only thing he wants.

Rescue

He describes the rescue itself in the last line, or stich, of verse 6 and in verse 8. God has “brought up [his] life from the pit.” Verse 8 describes those who “forsake their faithfulness,” reminding us that God and his people are in a relationship that expects commitment. By describing others this way, Jonah implies that God, unlike them, has been faithful to the relationship that they share. This is that great Hebrew word hesed, steadfast loving loyalty to a committed relationship.

Gratitude

Jonah expresses his gratitude and, like the sailors before him, promises to offer sacrifices of thanksgiving to his rescuer (Jon 2.9).

Deliverance

As many have noted, the fish was more obedient than the prophet (Jon 2.10).

Chapter 3 will surprise us again. This psalm sounds as though Jonah is fully repentant. But he’s not. He’s happy for the deliverance, of course, but his heart still resists the call and will of God.

More to come.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 3: Exemplary Pagans 

November 17, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction  | Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time

Though the book of Jonah is unusual among the Prophets, as we’ve noted, it does begin in the usual way, with a call from God to a prophet to deliver a message. God calls Jonah to deliver a message of judgment to Nineveh for its great wickedness.

So far, so good.

But verse 3 slaps us in the face with surprise. Jonah not only refuses the call (can prophets even do that?!), but he boards a ship bound for Tarshish, all the way at the other end of Mediterranean Sea, about as far as anyone of that day could get from Israel—or Nineveh. Does he think he can distance himself from God?

And why does he run in the first place? We know that Assyria, of which Nineveh was the capital, was the imperial power of the day, and that it was unspeakably cruel as well. Assyrian soldiers would pile the heads of their conquered enemies in a pyramid at the front gate of the conquered city; they would cover the city walls with the skins of their victims; they would torture men, women, and children in ways that I choose not to specify. (This is a family-friendly blog, after all.) Further, both Hosea and Amos, who prophesied at roughly the same time as Jonah, warned that Israel would one day go into captivity in Assyria. All Jews, including Jonah, hated the Assyrians. Why would he hesitate to deliver a message of judgment?

Well, we’re going to find out later, but until then we’ll have to be patient.

Remember my earlier assertion that this book is not about Jonah, but about God? We see that demonstrated clearly in the rest of this first chapter, where the actor in chief is God himself.

First God sends a great storm (Jonah 1.4)—literally, he “flung a powerful wind.” The sailors, likely Phoenicians, call out to their gods for help (Jonah 1.5); they do seem genuinely religious, not something we would expect of sailors—but then this is an unusual storm.

Sidebar: I’ll note in passing that this account parallels in many ways the story of Jesus calming the Sea of Galilee. I’m not sure why, but it’s interesting to think about.

Then they cast lots to see who’s to blame for the storm. The Mosaic Law condemns the use of various devices of divination, but these pagans do what comes naturally. And what do you know: here the lots are reliable. So here’s a second thing that God “throws” into the account.

The lot identifies Jonah. By interviewing him, they learn where he’s from and can thereby identify, in their minds, which god is angry (Jonah 1.9). They ask the prophet how they can best appease his god (Jonah 1.11), and he tells them (Jonah 1.12).

Initially they don’t want to throw him overboard; they try to row to shore. But since their efforts are to no avail (Jonah 1.13), and since Jonah has already told them what to do, they throw him overboard (Jonah 1.15)—they too do some throwing—but not before asking Jonah’s God to forgive them (Jonah 1.14). And they demonstrate reverent respect for the God of Israel (Jonah 1.16).

How much better were the pagans than the prophet? Though he had nearly cost them their lives, they treated him with kindness and grace. And how was Jonah treating his enemies? Even worse than it initially seems; as I’ve noted, the full explanation will come later.

There’s a third thing that the Lord sends. He sends a great fish (Jonah 1.17), who swallows the drowning prophet, thereby protecting him from the raging sea.

Now, this is a mixed bag. He’s no longer drowning—he can still breathe—but what he’s breathing is pretty unpleasant; we’ve all learned what stomach contents smell like when they show up uninvited.

This first of the two narratives in the book will end, as I’ve noted, with a conversation with God. We’ll look at that next time.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 2: Jonah, for the First Time

November 13, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

Part 1: Introduction

We all think we know the story of Jonah and the whale.

Well, clearly, we don’t.

It wasn’t called a whale, but a “great fish.” Now, the word fish can refer to anything that looks like what we think of as a fish, so I suppose the creature could have been a whale. Back then, biological taxonomy wasn’t what it is today.

But the book of Jonah is not about the fish. It really isn’t even about Jonah; Jonah is the foil for God, who is the real protagonist.

In the first verse we learn that Jonah is a son of Amittai. That’s also noted in 2 Kings 14.25, where we also learn that he was from Gath Hepher, a village in Galilee, just 3 miles northeast of Nazareth. So he was from the Northern Kingdom of Israel. The Kings passage also places him in the reign of Jeroboam II. Scholars note that Assyria and its capital Nineveh were weak around that time, a fact that might explain the Ninevite king’s apparent humility and call for repentance.

Before we get to the theology, we ought to ask a basic question: Is the story true?

There are elements of the story that, though not technically miraculous, are remarkable evidences of providence—most especially the fish, of course, and the rapidly living and dying vine. Sceptics would reject anything smacking of the miraculous. But scholars have noted that this story doesn’t have the typical characteristics of allegory, or parable, or fable. There’s no known fictional form into which the story robustly fits.

If there is a God, and if he acts, then there is no reason to reject the story as fictional. And since the 2 Kings passage is historical narrative, not historical fiction, a reader would have to reject more than just the fish to call the whole account unhistorical.

Of course Jesus referred to Jonah (Mt 12.39-41). Now there is such a thing as literary allusion, and if I refer to Ebenezer Scrooge as a stingy old miser, that doesn’t mean I think he actually existed. But Jesus referred to Jonah as a prophet, not merely a fictional character, and he cited the conversion of Nineveh as an example for Israel—a fact that would make little sense if the Ninevites’ repentance never happened. Further, in the same discourse Jesus cited the Queen of Sheba (Mt 12.42), whom the Scripture presents as clearly a historical figure.

Jonah is a unique book among the prophets, in that it contains almost no prophecy. His entire prophetic message consists of a few words in Jonah 3.4; the rest is narrative. Further, most other prophets don’t engage in dialogue with God (Habakkuk being the most notable exception). And Jonah, of all the prophets, is simply a bad guy. He’s a bigot who refuses God’s command and complains when the prophecy is fulfilled.

Maybe there’s hope for some of the rest of us to be prophets.

I’m kidding, of course.

The book is structured* around two times that God called Jonah (Jon 1.2; 3.1-2). He disobeys the first call, but a group of pagans, the sailors, demonstrate more piety than he does. He obeys the second call, but only reluctantly, and again, a group of pagans—this time the Ninevites—demonstrate more piety than he does. In both halves of the book, Jonah ends up in a private conversation with the Almighty, and there we get to the meat of the book: who God is with respect to his enemies—and by implication, who we should be as well.

* I’m indebted to the Holman Concise Bible Commentary for this structural analysis.

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On How to Think about Enemies, Part 1: Introduction

November 10, 2025 by Dan Olinger Leave a Comment

We all have enemies, of one sort or another. A lot of people, particularly Christians, are uncomfortable with that thought: love your neighbor, and love your enemies, and all that. But I’ll observe that the very fact that Jesus tells us to love our enemies assumes, or at least implies, that we have some. And even if you’re one of the few who regularly succeeds at loving your enemies and wishing harm to no one, those enemies are still out there. You may not even consider them enemies and hope and work for peace, but they still consider you an enemy, and that fact is going to affect your relationship.

People are enemies for lots of reasons. Throughout history countries and ethnicities have positioned themselves as enemies; as the old antiwar song goes, “the French hate the Germans; the Germans hate the Poles; Italians hate Yugoslavs; South Africans hate the Dutch; and I don’t like anybody very much.” These days we hear a lot about political enemies; candidates speak condemningly of their opponents, and the followers of each do the same. Sometimes family members become enemies, often after the death of a parent, when battles begin over what’s left behind. And of course there are religious enemies. Judaism and Christianity have often provoked animosity from nonbelievers, even without our considering the regrettable sinfulness of their adherents.

All of this, of course, is a consequence of sin, the fallenness of the present world. Of the innumerable attempts by well-meaning persons to bring peace to the world, or to set up a peaceful system within it, all have failed, whether with a bang or a whimper.

The Scripture speaks of a time of universal peace, and of a Prince of Peace, but he has yet to come. No one is beating his swords into plowshares, despite the statue in front of the United Nations building in New York.

So what do we do in the meantime? Do we just focus on our friends, and cut out “toxic people” from our daily interactions? Do we present them with indisputable proofs of how wrong they are, and just assume that if they reject our arguments they must be stupid—and thus hate them all the more?

Do we despair?

What do we do?

If you’ve been reading this blog for a while, I think you can predict what I’m going to say next.

As the sufficient Word of God, the Scripture speaks to this question, as well as all the others.

There were times in its history when the nation of Israel, which has always been surrounded by enemies, was in particular peril. Two enemies were particularly strong and thus particularly dangerous. The earlier one was Assyria, which in the 700s BC was the Big Kid on the block. After it, in the 500s, came Babylon, which defeated Assyria and assumed its dominance in the world of its day. As we might expect, both of them were bullies—as countries with strong militaries are often inclined to be.

During those times Israel had many prophets, sent by God both to warn and to encourage his people. Some of them had their prophecies collected into books of the Bible that bear their names. And three of those speak particularly to Israel, and to us, about how we should think about our enemies. Those three, in chronological order, are Jonah and Nahum, who wrote about Assyria, and Habakkuk, who wrote about Babylon (or as he called it, “Chaldea”).

Because they were speaking for God and by his Spirit, and because God has preserved their words for us today, we can be confident that what they said can be instructive for us as we face our enemies, large and small, intimidating and not.

I’d like to spend a few—oh, quite a few—posts meditating on what they said about the subject.

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