In Canoeing the Mountains (IVP Books, 2015), Tod Bolsinger writes about working as a consultant for a denominational organization. Countless meetings and interviews and brain-storming sessions were conducted. Progress reports were composed and distributed. Many expressed excitement about the potential new direction. All seemed positive, but when the final proposal was presented, an underlying fear of change prevailed. After two years of intense work, the proposal was voted down.

 

Have you ever worked on a project for a long period of time, only to see it canceled? Or, perhaps you have labored faithfully at a job for many years, but nobody seems to notice or care? Experiences like that can lead one to feel downhearted, or downright depressed. Sometimes things pile up until we reach the proverbial straw that broke the camel’s back, and we find ourselves in danger of cracking. We think about giving up and wonder “What’s the use?”

If that happens, we may find ourselves in the prophet Elijah’s sandals. [DD]

 

 

 

Perhaps we should not be surprised that Elijah’s emotional crash came soon after the high point in his career. On Mt. Carmel, he had challenged 450 prophets of Baal to a game of dueling gods. The prophets of Baal failed to bring fire from heaven, but Elijah’s prayer to Yahweh resulted in a conflagration that consumed both sacrifice and altar (1 Kgs. 18:20-40). Soon the prophets of Baal were dead, many Israelites had turned back to Yahweh, and Elijah was on top of the heap. 

 

Perhaps Elijah had not considered the political ramifications. He already had a contentious relationship with King Ahab and his Phoenician wife Jezebel, the primary proponent of Baalism. When Jezebel learned what havoc Elijah had wreaked on her pagan prophets, the angry queen quickly sent him a warning: “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them (the dead priests of Baal) by this time tomorrow” (v. 2). [DD]

 

The same Elijah who had bravely confronted 450 priests of Baal now quailed in fear before one angry queen and he fled for his life, running all the way from the northern kingdom of Israel to the town of Beersheba, near the southern border of Judah. [DD] 

 

Even that was not far enough: Elijah left his servant in Beersheba and traveled yet another day’s journey south into the desert, losing himself in the lonely wilderness of the Negeb (v. 3). [DD]

 

Lost and alone, Elijah collapsed under a lonesome tree and prayed to die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors” (4b). [DD] 

 

If Elijah had really wanted to die he could have remained in Israel, where Jezebel would have been glad to assist him. But, for a while, he may have felt like it. 

 

Elijah had been running without food or rest for several days. When he finally fell asleep under that solitary shrub, it was because he had no other choice. He was completely worn out.

 

God knew what Elijah needed, so when the prophet woke up, it was to the unexpected touch of an angel. [DD] “Get up and eat,” the visitor said, “or else the journey will be too great for you.” [DD] Elijah saw a steaming cake of bread and a jug of water nearby. He ate and drank, lay down again, then ate and drank some more (vv. 5-7).

 

Elijah did not eat again for 40 days as he journeyed on to the most sacred mountain in Israel’s memory. Some called it Mt. Horeb, while others called it Sinai. 

 

Using the last of his strength, Elijah climbed the hallowed hill until he came to a cave, perhaps the same cleft that had once sheltered Moses (the Hebrew text has “the cave,” as if the reader should know the cave of which it speaks). There Elijah spent the night, not knowing what would be next (vv. 8-9a).

 

 

 

What came next was a question: “Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (v. 9b). 

 

Elijah responded with a litany of complaints that his faithful efforts had been for nothing, the people of Israel had deserted Yahweh, that he was the only prophet left, and now Jezebel was after him (v. 10). Elijah’s protest revealed a self-pitying distortion of the situation. He ignored the faithful Obadiah and the 100 prophets God had kept safe (18:13), as well as the many who had repented following the miracle on Mt. Carmel (18:39-40). He couldn’t see beyond his own grief.

 

God gave Elijah a chance to vent, then offered him a picture of something bigger than his frustrated self, calling Elijah to come out of his cave and stand on the mountain before Yahweh, “for the LORD is about to pass by” (v. 11).

 

Elijah remained in the cave, though, when a howling wind blew past, “so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord,” but surprisingly, “the Lord was not in the wind.”

 

After the wind came the frightful shaking of an earthquake, “but the Lord was not in the earthquake.” On the heels of the temblor, Elijah felt the heat and heard the roar of a wildfire racing across the mountainside, but “the Lord was not in the fire,” either (vv. 11-12).

 

When all the commotion ceased, an eerie silence settled over the land, so tangible that Elijah could hear it. Translators struggle to describe what Elijah experienced. The KJV says there was a “still, small voice,” while the NIV has “a gentle whisper.” Literally, the text says that Elijah heard a qôl demāmâ daqqâ: “a sound of a thin silence.”

 

And that’s where Elijah found the voice of God: in the silence. The rejection he had felt and the uncertainty of his future and the fierceness of his opposition may have seemed as fearsome as a storm wind, as tumultuous as an earthquake, as ravaging as a forest fire. But God was not behind that. God was not the author of Elijah’s discontent.

 

Perhaps God wanted Elijah to learn that, in the midst of the storms of life that make it hard to get ahead, the upheavals that turn our lives upside down, and the burning heat of anger and disappointment and loss, God is still with us. In times like that, we may wish for God to speak up and make everything clear, but that is not the way God works. More often, God is present in the sound of silence.

 

When Elijah recognized the presence of God in the sound of silence, he covered his face with his mantle – proving that he didn’t really want to die, for he was certain that God was present and the Hebrews believed that one who saw God would die. [DD]

 

Carefully, then, Elijah finally ventured to the mouth of the cave – still short of standing “on the mountain” as God had commanded – and again God asked: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (v. 13). 

 

It was the same question as before, because Elijah still hadn’t dug deep enough to answer it. And despite all he had learned, Elijah remained stuck in his despondency. He gave the same answer as before, complaining that Jezebel had been killing the prophets, that he was the only one left in Israel, and that he was next in line (v. 14). 

 

It’s easy to be hard on Elijah, but if we’d been standing in his place, chased into the desert by a wicked queen’s death threat, we’d probably be rather self-absorbed, too. 

 

Elijah’s depressing response suggests that, if nothing else, he needed assurance that his lonesome life and his dangerous work had some meaning.

 

So it was that God did not offer Elijah a theological self-defense of divine actions or a neat analysis of Elijah’s psyche. God answered by giving the prophet a new mission and the assurance that other faithful people remained (vv. 15-18).

 

Elijah had made the common mistake of thinking it was all about him.

 

Let’s give another thought to God’s insistence that Elijah listen to (or through) the silence. Our culture seems addicted to noise. Even people out for a solitary walk tend to wear earbuds to crank out music or podcasts. As the daily clamor of life assaults our ears, our minds crackle with inner static as we try to remember all the errands that need doing and the work that hasn’t been done. 

 

One potential blessing of the COVID-19 pandemic and the resulting social isolation is that we’ve had more opportunities for silence and for listening to God. While some have called it “the Great Interruption,” others think of it as “the Great Pause.” The noise continued, of course. We had the option of binge-watching the news or Netflix, but that could only satisfy for so long. With less time in traffic or in meetings or in watching sports, we’ve had more opportunity to shed the insulating layers of noise and let our hearts and minds lie bare before God. [DD]

 

It doesn’t matter how low we may feel, how battered and bruised, how fierce are the storms that surround us: God is there, speaking in the silence, if we are willing to become quiet enough, open enough, vulnerable enough to hear. There is meaning in this life. There is hope. There is work for us, worthwhile work that will make a difference for Christ and for our world. Will we listen for it this week? [DD]