The Lord said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. (I Kings 19:11-13)
I love this story, but it has to be put in context. Elijah had been hiding from King Ahab for three years. He had taken on four hundred priests of Baal in a “My God is better than your god” contest, and his God had won. Elijah had then killed the four hundred and prophesied the end of the three-year drought. After all that, he’d run twenty-five miles ahead of Ahab’s chariot in the rain. I get pretty excited when I clear the winter debris from twenty feet of fence. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to win back-to-back-to-back-to-back major victories against my enemies.
And yet, at Jezebel’s proclamation, “You’re dead, Elijah,” he ran away. He hid. He asked God to take his life. Worse yet, we read these stories and tend to shake our heads at Elijah. How could he be such a wimp after winning those battles? One of the things that Professor Willard writes about in Hearing God is the fact that these people we read about are people like us. So, how would you feel if you’d spent three-and-a-half years hiding from people who wanted to kill you, confronted them in a battle of wills that turned into a slaughter, and then run almost a full marathon in the rain?
I’ve just spent three-and-a-half years caring for someone who was dying. I drove a thousand miles and I’ve been trying to care for Dad’s estate, clean out the house, and figure out what to do with my life. It doesn’t compare. It really doesn’t, but I’m tired. If I’m tired and feeling lost, maybe Elijah’s response isn’t as wimpy as we think. Imagine, winning all those victories and having someone brush them aside and threaten your life? Where were all the Israelites who said, “The Lord, He is God!” after the skirmish with Baal? All of the hiding, and fighting, and defeating, for nothing?
God feeds him, as he has fed him for the past three years, and, for all his life. He calls Elijah from his cave of despair to encounter Him. Wind, earthquake, and fire crash into the mountain. The only one of the classic four elements that doesn’t make an appearance is water, but Elijah may still have felt waterlogged after running through the rain. God isn’t in any of them.
So often, we focus on the big things. How can we not? Tornados and hurricanes? Fires? Earthquakes? Threats to our lives? But God is not in any of them. He is not part of nature, but those are the places where we look for Him. He’s in the gentle whisper. So why do we keep looking for the really big shows?
Years ago, I gave a speech about two of my collections: swords and letter openers. The point (pun intended) was that while swords are really big shows and get the attention of the audience, there’s not a lot of room for them in the average person’s house. They’re big. They can be heavy. They’re expensive. On the other hand, letter openers are small, less expensive, and more generally useful.
God in a whirlwind may be impressive, but how often does a person need a whirlwind? God in a gentle whisper? I don’t know about you, but I need that about every time I think a thought or take a breath.
Then a great and powerful wind tore the mountains apart and shattered the rocks before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake came a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire came a gentle whisper.
When Elijah heard it, he pulled his cloak over his face and went out and stood at the mouth of the cave. (I Kings 19:11-13)
I love this story, but it has to be put in context. Elijah had been hiding from King Ahab for three years. He had taken on four hundred priests of Baal in a “My God is better than your god” contest, and his God had won. Elijah had then killed the four hundred and prophesied the end of the three-year drought. After all that, he’d run twenty-five miles ahead of Ahab’s chariot in the rain. I get pretty excited when I clear the winter debris from twenty feet of fence. I can’t imagine what it would feel like to win back-to-back-to-back-to-back major victories against my enemies.
And yet, at Jezebel’s proclamation, “You’re dead, Elijah,” he ran away. He hid. He asked God to take his life. Worse yet, we read these stories and tend to shake our heads at Elijah. How could he be such a wimp after winning those battles? One of the things that Professor Willard writes about in Hearing God is the fact that these people we read about are people like us. So, how would you feel if you’d spent three-and-a-half years hiding from people who wanted to kill you, confronted them in a battle of wills that turned into a slaughter, and then run almost a full marathon in the rain?
I’ve just spent three-and-a-half years caring for someone who was dying. I drove a thousand miles and I’ve been trying to care for Dad’s estate, clean out the house, and figure out what to do with my life. It doesn’t compare. It really doesn’t, but I’m tired. If I’m tired and feeling lost, maybe Elijah’s response isn’t as wimpy as we think. Imagine, winning all those victories and having someone brush them aside and threaten your life? Where were all the Israelites who said, “The Lord, He is God!” after the skirmish with Baal? All of the hiding, and fighting, and defeating, for nothing?
God feeds him, as he has fed him for the past three years, and, for all his life. He calls Elijah from his cave of despair to encounter Him. Wind, earthquake, and fire crash into the mountain. The only one of the classic four elements that doesn’t make an appearance is water, but Elijah may still have felt waterlogged after running through the rain. God isn’t in any of them.
So often, we focus on the big things. How can we not? Tornados and hurricanes? Fires? Earthquakes? Threats to our lives? But God is not in any of them. He is not part of nature, but those are the places where we look for Him. He’s in the gentle whisper. So why do we keep looking for the really big shows?
Years ago, I gave a speech about two of my collections: swords and letter openers. The point (pun intended) was that while swords are really big shows and get the attention of the audience, there’s not a lot of room for them in the average person’s house. They’re big. They can be heavy. They’re expensive. On the other hand, letter openers are small, less expensive, and more generally useful.
God in a whirlwind may be impressive, but how often does a person need a whirlwind? God in a gentle whisper? I don’t know about you, but I need that about every time I think a thought or take a breath.
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