I Hope You Burn In Hell

I lost my wallet on the weekend. Not exactly newsworthy, I know, but it certainly stopped me in my tracks. Lost things do that. Especially lost wallets. I’m over the initial panic, now I’m just annoyed. To be honest, I’m mostly annoyed because I’m not the type of person who losses my wallet, I don’t recall the last time I did that. But my pride isn’t the star of this reflection, my lost wallet is.

You’ve been there, right? That frantic retracing of steps, those desperate thoughts of where I was and when, the hopeful phone calls to shopping centres or restaurants, the turmoil of your searching as you rifle through forgotten places behind your favourite lounge chair. All to no avail; the elusive wallet remains hidden. Almost a week later I found myself driving down a road I suspect I drove on over that fateful weekend, though I’ve long given up on being reunited with my lost cargo, I found myself hopefully scanning the sides of the road, you know, just in case.

Maybe you can relate to that; something is lost, something precious, and the fervency we have when trying to find it can often become consuming. I think this is what Jesus was tapping into when he told his famous stories about lost things in Luke 15.

Verse one sets the scene:

Now the tax collectors and sinners were all drawing near to hear him.  (Luke 15:1 ESV)

Then verse two gives us the catalyst for Jesus’ response:

And the Pharisees and the scribes grumbled, saying, “This man receives sinners and eats with them.”  (Luke 15:2 ESV)

Lost sheep. Lost coins. Lost sons. Do you know what each has in common apart from the fact that something was lost? The earnestness with which they were looked for. The shepherd leaves the 99 to search the wilderness, the widow turns her house upside-down until the money is found, the father stands peering expectantly down the road for his youngest, and then leaves the party to beg the elder son to join the celebration.

The Scribes and the Pharisees had an attitude that wouldn’t be out of place in today’s social media, or maybe even in the padded, carefully lit sanctuaries of our churches. While it is regularly heard, it is still more often implied, “I hope you burn in hell.” What a tragedy. What a sorrowful disgrace. 

We, to whom much mercy has been shown, are often the first to cast stones in the condemnation of the world. We, to whom grace has been lavished, are often the first to wrestle the gavel from God’s hand and bring it down in judgement. Yet rather than judgement and condemnation, Jesus tells three stories that not only advocate serious searching, but scandalously, reveal that heaven is a place of raucous celebration when lost people are found.

Yet here we are, keeping Jonah company on his hill outside Nineveh. Yes, the people of Nineveh were exceedingly wicked, and yes, God had proclaimed judgement on them, but look at Jonah for a moment, all snug and comfortable under his shadowy vine. Jonah was waiting gleefully for the lightening to thunder down. Jonah was sitting eagerly muttering to himself, “I hope you burn in hell.” He wasn’t afraid of going because of the notoriety of the city, Jonah ran from his mission because he knew God’s character, he knew God would show mercy, and that just wasn’t on the agenda of Jonah.

When God saw what they did, how they turned from their evil way, God relented of the disaster that he had said he would do to them, and he did not do it. But it displeased Jonah exceedingly, and he was angry. And he prayed to the Lord and said, “O Lord, is not this what I said when I was yet in my country? That is why I made haste to flee to Tarshish; for I knew that you are a gracious God and merciful, slow to anger and abounding in steadfast love, and relenting from disaster. Therefore now, O Lord, please take my life from me, for it is better for me to die than to live.”   (Jonah 3:10-4:3 ESV)

It seems Jonah had already had a conversation with God about these wretched people, and had made his case clear to the Almighty, after all, these people deserve eternal damnation, don’t they? Yet listen to our gracious God’s gentle response.

...“Do you do well to be angry?”  (Jonah 4:4 ESV)

“Do you do well to be angry for the plant?” And he said, “Yes, I do well to be angry, angry enough to die.” And the Lord said, “You pity the plant, for which you did not labor, nor did you make it grow, which came into being in a night and perished in a night. And should not I pity Nineveh, that great city, in which there are more than 120,000 persons who do not know their right hand from their left, and also much cattle?”  (Jonah 4:9-11 ESV)

I’m fairly certain that Jonah loved his plant even more than I loved my wallet. At least, I know I wasn’t ready to die from disappointment at losing it. But losing my wallet did show me something sinister. It revealed something dark and shadowy about my heart — that I am far more prone to fret and search over a silly wallet than I am over the countless men and women I walk past every day, people who don’t know their right hand from their left, people who apart from God’s grace, will burn in hell. Let’s not be too hasty in our glee over their demise. Seek the Lord for a soft heart, a gentle hand, and a ready word of hope.