You Can Run But You Can't Hide

Most of us don’t rebel against God with clenched fists and raised voices.

We do it quietly.

We do it politely.

We do it while staying religious.

We don’t usually shout, “No, Lord!”

We just say nothing.

We delay.

We reroute.

We keep moving—just not in the direction God pointed.

If obedience were a phone call, many of us wouldn’t slam the phone down.

We’d just let it go to voicemail.

You know the message:

“Hello, you’ve reached David. I can’t take your call right now. Please leave your name, number, and a brief message, and I’ll get back to you.”

That message exists so we don’t miss important calls.

But let’s be honest—sometimes it exists so we can decide which calls we want to return.

Jonah had a message like that on his spiritual voicemail.

It went something like this:

“Hello, this is Jonah. I’m unavailable to take your call right now. Please do not leave your name, your number, or your message—because I won’t be getting back to you.”

That’s where this story begins.

Not with a pagan.

Not with an unbeliever.

Not with a man who doesn’t know God.

But with a prophet.

A man of God.

A man who knows the voice of the Lord—and recognizes it immediately.

“The word of the Lord came to Jonah, son of Amittai…”

Jonah knows exactly who is calling.

He knows exactly what God is asking.

And he knows exactly what obedience would require.

And then—astonishingly—he runs.

Not because he doesn’t believe.

Not because he doesn’t understand.

But because he does.

God tells Jonah to go east—to Nineveh.

Jonah buys a ticket west—to Tarshish.

Same sea.

Same God.

Opposite direction.

And right here, before storms, before sailors, before fish and repentance and resurrection imagery, the book of Jonah presses an uncomfortable question into our hands:

What do we do when God’s call is clear—but costly?

Jonah’s story is not primarily about a fish.

It’s about a heart that refuses to serve.

It’s about a believer who knows the truth—and still chooses his own way.

If we’re honest, that makes Jonah uncomfortably familiar.

Because the same blood that ran through Jonah’s veins runs through ours.

The same instincts.

The same resistance.

The same quiet refusal.

Jonah is introduced to us as “the son of Amittai.”

His name means “dove.”

His father’s name means “truth.”

He is, quite literally, a messenger of truth. This is not a novice prophet. According to the historical record, Jonah has already served faithfully inside Israel. He has spoken the word of the Lord. He has seen God’s promises fulfilled. He has watched God act.

Which makes his flight all the more disturbing.

God’s instruction could not have been clearer: “Arise, go to Nineveh, that great city, and cry out against it, for their wickedness has come up before me.”

This was not vague guidance.

This was not an impression.

This was not Jonah wondering what God might be saying.

This was a direct call.

And Jonah does not argue.

He does not negotiate.

He does not ask clarifying questions.

He simply leaves.

The text tells us that Jonah “fled from the presence of the Lord.”

That phrase does not mean Jonah believed God was geographically confined to Israel.

Jonah is not naïve. He knows better theology than that. What it means is that Jonah is stepping away from service. He is refusing the role God has assigned him.

To stand before the Lord is to serve Him.

To flee from His presence is to refuse.

And Jonah refuses.

He heads for Tarshish—about as far in the opposite direction as he can go. In the ancient world, Tarshish represented the edge of the map. It was the place you went when you wanted distance. When you wanted escape. When you wanted silence.

And that reveals something about the nature of disobedience.

Disobedience is rarely dramatic.

It is usually directional.

It is choosing a different road.

A different priority.

A different schedule.

Jonah does not deny God’s existence.

He does not renounce his faith.

He simply decides that God’s will will not govern his next steps.

And here is where Jonah begins to expose something deeply human.

We often imagine disobedience as rebellion fueled by passion—anger, resentment, rage.

But far more often, disobedience is fueled by calculation.

By reasoning.

By self-protection.

Jonah knows who the Ninevites are. He knows their reputation. He knows their cruelty. He knows their history. And he knows something else—something we don’t discover until later in the story.

Jonah knows God.

He knows that God is merciful.

He knows that God is compassionate.

He knows that God forgives repentant sinners.

And Jonah does not want that mercy extended there.

That is the scandal beneath the surface.

Jonah is not running because he doubts God’s power.