7 Some time later the brook dried up because there had been no rain in the land. 8 Then the word of the LORD came to him: 9 “Go at once to Zarephath in the region of Sidon and stay there. I have directed a widow there to supply you with food.” (1 Kings 17: 7-9)

 

Elijah lived a pretty interesting life. Rugged and tough, he moved from desert to town with an ease that is enviable. His ministry seemed pretty seamless too–he was God’s prophet given to both king and peasant, man and woman. It made little difference where he found himself: the Lord was always within reach.

                                    Giovanni Girolamo Savoldo
                                           Elijah Fed by the Raven, c. 1510

The remarkable life and ministry of this tough old prophet makes good reading. I have always found the interminable lists of wicked and evil kings in the biblical history books tedious, but insert a mad prophet here and there into the narrative, and you have an adventure story that beats everything. The story of Elijah’s struggle with Ahab and his conniving wife, Jezebel is well-known. Elijah’s stand against the corruption and idolatry in Ahab’s Israel was often a minority one, but it didn’t faze him one bit. In any case, he probably knew that the majority weren’t always right.

During the time of his prophesied drought, the Lord instructed him to retreat into the wilderness, and camp by the brook Kerith. Ravens, God said, would bring him food, and the brook provided him with water. Needing nothing else by way of necessity, Elijah lived in this hermit-like way, satisfied with the Lord’s provision. Eventually, however, the brook dried up, as God knew it would. When the heavy rains of late autumn and early winter failed to materialise, God set into play the second stage of providing for his prophet. More instructions came to Elijah: move out to Zarephath in Sidon.

From the brook Kerith, east of the Jordan, all the way to Sidon, was a long walk indeed. Worse yet, Sidon was Gentile, and the home territory of Jezebel, who wanted Elijah’s head. But God said that was where Elijah would find bread and water, in the house of a widow.

These two stories, of Elijah and the ravens, and Elijah and the widow of Zarephath, are intriguing. In the first, God draws the prophet into the wilderness, far away from danger, where he lived a hermit-like existence, relying solely on God’s provision. Secondly, God sends him right into his enemy’s territory, fishing out a single widow whose heart was ready to give up her last meal so that the prophet could eat (1 Kings 17: 10-16).

It’s interesting that in both stories, God kept Elijah under the radar of Ahab and Jezebel. More so, he was also nourishing Elijah’s faith for his later ministry, by his faithful provision of something as basic as food and drink during a time of drought. Whether the desert or a Gentile town, Elijah remained secure in the shadow of his wings.

Elijah also recognised God’s timing: when the brook Kerith dried up, that was the signal to move on. The drought did not end: Elijah knew that, since he himself had prophesied a three-year drought. In terms of the bigger circumstances, nothing had changed. If anything, the drought had intensified. Worse yet, Elijah’s source of sustenance was now cut off. But he recognised the start of a new stage for himself. Hearing God, he got up and left a resource that had simply dried up.

God’s next stage was no walk in the park either. Travelling west and upwards towards Zarephath could not have been a safe journey for Elijah. Deliberately entering into enemy territory would not have been the wisest thing to do on a normal day. But that was what he did. When he entered Zarephath, he did not find a scene of comfort or abundance. The first widow he saw was on the brink of starvation. But he knew what God had said to him–the widow had been assigned to sustain him.

What happened thereafter was a challenge both to Elijah and the widow: should they take God at his word? In this story, both did. The prophet knew his God, and strangely enough, the Gentile Sidonian widow recognised the prophet of Israel, and the God he served. Elijah was indeed sustained by the widow, who in turn, was sustained by the God Elijah served. They had bread and oil and drink enough to last them throughout the time Elijah remained in the widow’s care.

But the wider circumstances had not changed … the drought went on. Within the context of great challenges and difficulties, Elijah lived out his faith and calling in God. He went from one un-ideal situation to another worse one. Yet, in both situations, he was held by his trust in God, and nourished by God’s hand. What impresses me about Elijah is his recognition of God’s hand and touch on every circumstance of his life. He understood God’s timing, and moved according to the seasons of his words.

Elijah was a tough old bird. The desert winds worked on him and the sun leathered him well. But it was God who chiselled his inner profile to be exactly that man who, being ordinary was nevertheless righteous (James 5: 17), and whose prayers and words sparked a divine response like nothing else would.

“But the fruit of the Spirit is love, joy, peace, forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control. Against such things there is no law.”  (Galatians 5: 22-23)
This is the thing … we don’t really believe that second line. The “law” we believe is that the fruit of the Spirit is a near-impossible goal for us to achieve because we’re human, we fall, and if Jesus did it, well, that’s because he is God. It doesn’t sound like a fun thing anyway, cultivating the fruit of the Spirit. I mean, there’s bound to be sweat involved, for all that the Spirit is “enabling” us. So to spend all of life running after more and more of the Spirit’s fruit isn’t the most exciting thing in the world. What we do focus on are the more magnificent things that we see and hear about: the headlining spectacular gifts that we wish we had too, like healing, and performing miracles, and raising people from the dead, or prophesying doom over those who are disobedient (our enemies) … How we live is to focus on the things that we do for God–what we call our “service” and “ministry”, as if those were the most important thing.
Lip service is what we pay to Scripture’s admonition. We can even rattle off Galatians 5: 22-23 by heart. Hey, that’s our memory verse for the day! But the fact is, we are to pursue and cultivate the virtues (such an outdated word!) with all the energy we have–against such things there is no law. The life that has value talks about, strangely, not miracles etc, but about graciousness and morality. “What good is it for a man to gain the whole world, yet forfeit his soul?” (Mark 8: 36) sounds like a good check to us today. More than ever, character has taken a back seat in the Church. What is left is empty observance and a whole lot of performance in our Christianity. No wonder we are immature. No wonder we quarrel and back bite.
Unshepherded souls have a way of gilding the outside, while the inside remains much like Joseph Conrad’s hollow men, ie. they’re hollow. If you punch a hole in them, sand would flow out (Heart of Darkness). I wonder how many of us are sandbags.
Fantastic ministry and superlative services are no guarantee of maturity in Christ. A good sign that we are not well is when trials hit us. Our reactions, controlled or uncontrolled, say something of where we are along the way. Our ability to draw on inner resources indicates to us the fulness (or emptiness) of the “fountain of life” and liveliness deep in our core. If we become terribly depleted and dry in troublesome times, then we are like the springs and rivers that have dried up for lack of rain. We are only seasonal water troughs, never constant, and easily drained when the first obstacle hits. The artesian wells of the Spirit’s strength and abundance lie untapped, unused in our hot pursuit of what is glamorous in “ministry”. That’s the sad thing about us. We have no sustaining strength, and we don’t endure well.
To live the life of Christ, to enter into the ”abundance of his household” don’t mean that we get all the trappings of success and prosperity (Try Jesus! He’ll bless you!). It does mean that we outdo others in good works, we think less of ourselves and what we want, we’re not obsessed about how many people buy into what we say and do, we stand as characters whose backbones spell out “love, joy, peace,forbearance, kindness, goodness, faithfulness, gentleness and self-control.”
I don’t know when we lost our way. But I think we turned a corner that we shouldn’t have. Instead of bringing people to the maturity of Christ, full of substance and core strength, we’re breeding a tribe of reduced people for whom “personhood” and “character” are indeed inconceivable.
“We are the hollow men
We are the stuffed men
Leaning together
Headpiece filled with straw. Alas!
Our dried voices, when
We whisper together
Are quiet and meaningless
As wind in dry grass …”
(T. S. Eliot, “The Hollow Men”)

 

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My sun windows strain the sunshine,

Sifting rays that splash onto my walls, all cream and beige.

The yellow streaks that line the glass and walls are

egg yolks in a bowl,

they could be no yellower than that.

Every morning when I pray,

these restless lines of light

hover in the air, &

remind me of a domeless world above.

 

My sun windows sift the straining sunlight,

Hear the fizz of fire as they touch my cool cream walls.

Pinging strings of yellow light, like lasers

through the glassy panes,

there could be no sharper sound than that.

Every morning when I pray,

I hear those dancing strings,

like restless music,

reminders of the seamless world beyond.

 

21.05.2011