The desert wind whipped the sand around his legs, stinging like a hundred insects. Elijah trudged on through the storm, shielding his eyes with his arm, a cloth tied over his nose and mouth. If he could have found shelter he would have waited until the storm passed, but there was none, so he struggled on, blinded by the swirling sand, hoping that the wind would drop before he fell from a cliff or stumbled into a den of wild animals. At least it would cover his tracks and make it harder for anyone following to find him.
The storm in his mind raged almost as fiercely as the wind. So few days before, he had stood alone on Mount Carmel, loudly proclaiming his faith before King Ahab and the people, and had faced down the prophets of the false god Baal, even mocking their failure to call down fire on the sacrifice prepared. They had been humiliated before all Israel when Elijah’s short prayer had done what all the elaborate rituals of the Baal-priests could not, and brought first fire to consume the sacrifice and then rain to end the three year drought. Elijah had felt, briefly, that perhaps the tide had turned- that Ahab and his people, freed from the influence of the Baal-priests, would turn back to God. Elijah himself had been full of confidence, high on God’s power and spirit, running ahead of Ahab’s chariot all the way from Carmel to Jezreel.
Now he was just running away. When Ahab’s queen, Jezebel, had heard that the Baal-priests had been humiliated and killed, she had promised to kill Elijah in response. When her threats had reached him Elijah had been afraid, knowing that she had the power to carry out her threats. He had run for his life, beyond the bounds of Israel into the wilderness of Judah. Away from Jezebel, away from Ahab. Away, too, from his role as voice of God in Israel. He had left his servant at Beersheba yesterday- it was safer for both of them to be alone- and had walked all day into the desert.
At last he stumbled into a bush. He worked his way round to the sheltered side and sat down, hunched over with his back to the wind. It was not much shelter, but he was too tired to battle the storm any longer.
Alone in the desert, a tattered, frightened prophet running for his life. He was ashamed of his fear, ashamed that he had run away and let his God down. He was no better than any other of the Israelites, who he had been so quick to condemn for following the powerful Baal-priests. He was a mess of a man, everything he did just led to more hurt and failure.
“I’ve had enough, Lord,” he prayed. “Take my life, I don’t deserve to live.”
He lay down under the meagre shelter of the broom bush. Exhausted both physically and emotionally, he was soon asleep.
Elijah woke suddenly, as if someone had touched his shoulder. He started up in panic, fearing that Jezebel’s minions had found him and he was about to die. But a voice spoke, and something about it dispelled all Elijah’s fear.
“Get up and eat.”
Elijah sat up, looking around. The wind had dropped, and all was still. The sun had just set and the stars were beginning to appear overhead, bright as flames. There was a small fire near his head, with bread baking over the hot coals. Nearby was a jar of water. He realised that both the journey and his emotions had taken a toll, and he was both hungry and thirsty.
He looked around in the light of the fire, but the speaker could not be seen.
He ate the warm bread washed down with clear cool water from the jar. It was not the first time he had been fed in the wilderness. In the first year of the drought God had told him to go and hide in the Kerith Ravine, not far from his homeland of Tishbe in Gilead, and had fed him with bread and meat delivered by ravens. He had been completely dependent then on God’s provision. If he had trusted God then, surely he should be able to trust him even more now, after all the experience he had had of God’s power? And yet- Elijah felt his spirit still as dry as the desert around him. What use was he as a prophet?
He lay down again, refreshed by the food and water but still feeling bruised and shaken in his spirit. Tears of fear, of frustration, of failure, of loneliness, watered the desert floor until tired out by this new storm, he slept again.
In the twilight just before dawn he was woken again in the same way. A shadowy figure spoke; “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” There was more bread on the coals, more water in the jar. He ate and drank. Perhaps it was the food, or the sleep, but he felt stronger now. He was still afraid, still hopeless, still questioning whether he had a future. But a new resolve had come to him during the night, and he knew where he must go. It would be a long journey, and maybe it would be too much for him, but he had to go- to speak with God. There was no other way he could find peace with himself.
Based on https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Kings%2019&version=NIV
He lay down again, refreshed by the food and water but still feeling bruised and shaken in his spirit. Tears of fear, of frustration, of failure, of loneliness, watered the desert floor until tired out by this new storm, he slept again.
In the twilight just before dawn he was woken again in the same way. A shadowy figure spoke; “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” There was more bread on the coals, more water in the jar. He ate and drank. Perhaps it was the food, or the sleep, but he felt stronger now. He was still afraid, still hopeless, still questioning whether he had a future. But a new resolve had come to him during the night, and he knew where he must go. It would be a long journey, and maybe it would be too much for him, but he had to go- to speak with God. There was no other way he could find peace with himself.
Based on https://www.biblegateway.com/passage/?search=1%20Kings%2019&version=NIV
