The Belly of the Whale

This is a story about a man and a whale. This is a story about a whale who swallows a man. This is a tale about a man called Jonah. Well, that’s not entirely true. This is a story about me.

Now, where do I begin?

It was a rather cold day. Clouds plastered the sky with an ominous grey, as harsh winds bashed the coastlines and churned the seas. I, much like any other day, was swimming through the deep. Speckled blue painted the endless canvas of water, as one would expect of the ocean.

The waters were icy, penetrating even my thick layer of blubber. Numbed by cold and hungry for warmth, I simply just kept swimming. My tail flicked gently behind me as I advanced on through the deep. I’d been called onwards, and I would never let the savage bite of the cold deter me from this voice.

This was an ordinary day; I must stress that. The only significant difference was the voice of Him. He, who by power and majesty, called me to this part of the ocean. Drawn by his great power, I had travelled further than I ever had before, drawn into the Mediterranean waters. The presence of His voice still instils great fear and reverence within my blubber.

They must teach this in schools, but whales are quite proud of their blubber. They often use their blubber as a means of swearing by, and could be compared to the likeness of the way humans speak of their hearts. Now that we’ve got the messiness aside, back to the story.

The sea began to churn in a much different way, and the waves grew larger than life. I saw a dark spot cutting through the surface of the water to the world below. Lightning painted the clouds with white, and the heavens trembled. The dark spot grew closer, and I made it out to be a ship. The next thing I knew, I was watching a small figure sink beneath the waves. The voice called to me again.

Jonah’s story is a fascinating tale. One of the most unique books that made its way into Old Testament Scriptures. As much as I’ve appreciated the work of the author, I’ve always wondered what happened to our dear whale friend. We’ll have to settle on a whale, because although some theologians and scholars may tell me it was most definitely a fish, I like the idea of a whale more. That also allows us a rather extraordinary pop-culture reference, that of Pixar’s legendary film Finding Nemo. While a story centred in the Mediterranean Sea and the coastline of Eastern Australia vary in a series of ways that could not be fully expressed within this tale, a similarity does occur.

“Wow. I wish I could speak whale,” Dory calmly states.

This witty and rather silly comment toward the latter end of the film filled my belly with laughter as child. I’ve grown since those days. I’ve become a little wiser (hopefully), a little taller (or perhaps a lot), but none the less still filled with wonder. I do wish I could speak whale, Dory. I am with you all the way. That is why I slumped within this chair and began writing this story.

This is a world with whales who thunder through the seas like an express train passing a station at which it’s not stopping. This is a world where God moves and stirs within every living thing. A world which spins, a world with seasons that change, and creatures that hear their Creator speak. Hear His Word. Break into the world of the divine. This is the God who speaks wonder, who speaks magic, the rightful King of Creation. Join Jonah in the whale’s belly, be shaken by the divine silliness. Be vomited upon shore. Be made new.

“For just as Jonah was three days and three nights in the belly of the great fish, so will the Son of Man be three days and three nights in the heart of the earth.” ~ Matthew 12:40