Jonah Prologue Part One

Several months ago I had an idea.  

I found myself skimming over whole passages in the Old Testament and I began to wonder why.

Are they boring?  No.
Am I missing the context?  Sometimes.
Is it because they were stories that I had heard hundreds of times?  Yep.

I then realized that there are probably plenty of people like me, people who find it easy to skip whole sections of the Bible because they were stories they had heard before.

I began to wonder if there was a way I could help myself and others read these stories with "with new eyes."

The idea that I came up was to retell these "old stories" in a new way; a way that hopefully people could relate to.  This is the first section of the prologue in my upcoming novel based on the book of Jonah.  I hope you enjoy and would love any feedback.

********************

            He looked at himself in the mirror.   When did I get so old?  The prophet examined the bags under his eyes, his greying hairs and stretch marks on his stomach.  With a sigh he put on the blue paper gown and stepped out of the dressing area and had a seat on the padded table.  He spent the next ten minutes going over the causes of his deterioration.

            “It’s the king” he announced to himself.  “Him and his so called advisors.  It’s as if they can’t make any decisions by themselves.”

            As if on cue his phone chirped.

            The prophet looked at the message and with a shake of his head texted back that “God doesn’t really care which caterers the throne hires for the summit.”  Useless advisors don’t do anything but ask me.

            Taking a deep breath the prophet slid off the table, dropped to his knees and began to pray.  “Lord, only you know why you chose me to give your messages,” he began.  “I’m impatient and crass.  That You can use even me amazes me daily.  Please give me the patience and wisdom to deal, with love, those who just want a forecast of tomorrow’s weather.” 

            The prophet continued praying for those who would hear God’s word through him.  He prayed that they would be open to change, that He would go before him and soften their hearts.  As he prayed he felt his mind begin to wonder.  A barrage of images began flashing though his mind.  

*****

The prophet was standing in what appeared to be a movie theater.  The walls, chairs, and even the noise absorbing pads on the wall were a stark white.  The glance around him showed that he was alone.  The prophet felt compelled to have a seat so he made himself move to the tenth row and took a seat in the middle (as was tradition).  The lights dimmed and the projector whirred to life.  After the “Let’s go out to the lobby” song ended, an image appeared on the movie screen.   The prophet knew this must be a message from God.

The scene opened in what appeared to be a living room.  The prophet could see a few, well-made pieces of furniture.  A couch, chaise, and two chairs for sitting, several side tables, and a clearly used desk covered in what appeared to be medical charts.  A man entered from the left hand side of the screen, staring at something in his hand.  The camera zoomed in to show that what he held in the palm of his right hand was a beautiful, but broken in half, engagement ring. 

I wonder where the sound is, the prophet wondered as the silence seemed to become louder in his ears.

The man stared at the ring as though it was a viper ready to strike.  Slowly, he placed the ring on a side table and began pacing back and forth; always giving it quick glances out of the corner of his eye.  The prophet watched as the man made phone calls, sat in the chaise, seeming to be lost in thought and filled out charts at the desk.   Days or even weeks seemed to pass.  Several times the man would pick up the pieces of ring, study them, nearly put the two halves together, grimace and put them down again.  Finally the man came in; anger, hurt, and sadness portrayed on his face, and nearly ran to the rings.  He picked up one half in each hand, stormed across the room and with tears pouring down proceeded to pitch the rings into the trash can he kept under the desk.  He sank into his chair and buried his face into his hands.

The movie screen faded to white and a soft voice came from the speakers.  The prophet was so startled at the sudden noise that he missed what the voice said.

“No, please, repeat what you said!” the prophet begged the speakers.

“Tell him it is alright to love again,” the speakers whispered.

The movie screen faded back to the man in his chair.  He appeared to have been crying again and looked as if he had sunken into himself.  His eyes looked hollow and he had clearly not shaven in several days.

“It is ok to love again,” the prophet spoke.

The man on the screen looked puzzled, as if he could hear the prophet.  Lifting his head he looked around the room.

“It is ok to love again,” the prophet spoke.

Fresh tears welled in the man’s eyes.  Slowly he bent to the trash can and pulled out the parts of the ring.  With a trembling hand he put the halves together and with a sudden, blazing light, the two halves became whole.  Fear mixed with hope melted into a satisfied smile.  The man jumped up and ran out the door, but this time there were tears of joy flowing down his cheeks.  Time passed and the man returned home, but this time he wasn’t alone.  He had his bride with him.

The screen once again faded to white and the prophet found himself smiling.  Love should be cherished and allowed to grow old. 

If he allows himself to love, his children’s children will be known for all time.  Give him my message, prophet.

*****

            Knock knock.

            The prophet jerked off his knees and nearly fell over from the pins and needles shooting down his legs.  He turned as the doctor was closing the door. 

            It wasn’t his normal doctor and with a start he realized it was the man from his vision.  The prophet couldn’t help but study the man as he answered the typical questions.  The doctor seemed to just be reading off his charts and not paying any attention to the man he was supposed to be evaluating.  Together they went over his annual physical. The doctor pointed out that he needed to cut the caffeine out of his diet (the heathen!) as well as begin a regular diet and exercise program to get his cholesterol back to healthy parameters.  Never once did the doctor look at the prophet.

            “Do you have any more questions?” the doctor asked as he made his way to the door.

            “Do you know who I am, son?” asked the prophet.  The doctor paused and looked at the prophet for the first time since entering the room.   His eyes widened as they twitched to the chart then back to the prophet.

            “Y..your Jo…” he began.

            “That’s right and I have a message for you.”

            Visibly shaking the doctor sat back in his chair as he waited for the word of God.

            “The Lord of Hosts wants you to know that it is alright to love again, my son,” the prophet said without looking away from the doctor’s face.

            After a few moments, he responded with a profound, “What?”

            “You must know that even though you’ve been harmed before, it is ok to love again.  Do not close yourself off from love, neither the love from the Lord or from others.  God will repair what is broken and you will love again.”

            The doctor looked shocked.  He expected anything but this; but as always God gives the words they need to hear, not what they expect.  Slowly he stood and with tears beginning to well in his eyes, fell into the prophet’s arms.  Several minutes later he pulled back.  The look on his face was of joy.

            “Thank you, prophet, thank you,” he beamed.

            “I am just God’s speakerphone, son.  What’s your name?”  The prophet asked.

            “Luke, sir,” he replied.  “Thank you, proph…”

            “That’s enough of that,” the prophet said with a grin.  “Anyone who has hugged me while I wear this,” he gestured to the paper gown, “can call me by my first name.  I’m Jonah.”

            He held out his hand and the doctor shook it.

            “Luke… that’s a good strong name.  When God provides you a family you should give your son that name.”

            With a grin Luke replied, “I will proph… uh.. Jonah.”  They talked for a few more minutes until the nurse came in to see what was taking Dr. Luke so long.  With what seemed like the hundredth thank you, Luke left Jonah to get dressed and make his way to the checkout counter.  No sooner had the prophet walked outside when his phone buzzed.  It was the minister of defense wanting his advice, again…  With a chuckle and a sigh he got in the black car that was waiting for him.