Belly of the Beast

theeffect Podcasts

Dave Brisbin 7.13.25 How many times have you asked God for a sign? Desperately cried out for any toehold you could get on some certainty…imploring, making bargains. Great scene in the movie Bruce Almighty, begging for a sign but too focused on his pain to see all the signs along the road until he’s finally stopped in his tracks, forced to admit his loss of control. Art imitating life. When religious authorities ask Jesus for a sign, he refuses, calling them an evil generation—bisha in Aramaic—literally unripe, unready, unprepared. He knows as with almighty Bruce, no sign will be enough to convince them of anything until they are prepared to see. Except for the sign of Jonah. We all know Jonah: God asks him to preach to the people of Nineveh but he hates them so much, wants to see them burn, that he runs away aboard a ship only to be swallowed by a great fish. He camps in the fish for three days, until he can finally admit his loss of control. Ironically, Jonah is the only Old Testament prophet who successfully preaches a people to repentance, but when God spares the city, Jonah is not happy. This is why he ran away. He knew his God, the extent of God’s love and compassion. But his own love was still tribal. His God should not be their God. God’s love should not extend to those he hated. The descent of his three days in the belly of the beast brought him to the gates of Nineveh, but he’d need another descent before he could extend his love all the way to the enemy. This is the way of it. No sign will ever be enough to overcome our human fears and need for tribal certainty. But the sign of Jonah, descending deep enough, long enough to implode our narrow view of life and love, is the only way to become free enough to see a greater expanse. Whether through external trauma and loss, or internally through intentional spiritual formation, if we’re willing to surrender to the beast, we still won’t find certainty—that’s impossible. But in stripping off illusion, the reality of love extending everywhere, filling every crack, can convince us our borders are artificial, our tribes too small, and our identity defined only in each other.