The Mountain of Difficult Decisions

Picture this.

You’re hiking deep in the wilderness — the trail has been long, the way uncertain, and now you come to a fork. One path climbs steeply toward a distant ridge. The other descends into a shaded ravine. There's no map. No signal. And to make matters worse, the compass hanging around your neck — the one you’ve trusted this whole time — has stopped working. The needle spins without direction.

This is not the time to stand still.

You must choose. And even not choosing — just standing there staring at both trails — is still a choice. It’s a choice to delay, to remain uncommitted, to drift.

This is an analogy about a mountain, but it’s not really about a mountain. This is often where we find ourselves in life right? There is a choice to be made — a choice that has to be made — a choice that will make all of the difference.

We are always faced with difficult decisions. Its part of the human experience. It’s not my favorite part, but it is an important part. The course of our lives and the course of human history is set by the difficult decisions that we have to make. And lucky for us, we aren’t the only ones.

Today we continue our series “Summer in the Mountains.” We are looking at different mountain top experiences that people in scripture have with God, and seeing how we too have those types of experiences. Today we are going to turn our attention to a place called Mt. Carmel, where a prophet is going to challenge the people of Israel to make the most important decision they could ever make.

To really feel the weight of this moment on Mount Carmel, we need to rewind the story.

Israel was born out of a covenant. God had rescued them from slavery in Egypt, led them through the wilderness, and planted them in the Promised Land. At Sinai, they entered into a relationship with Yahweh — a relationship defined by loyalty and love.

“You shall have no other gods before me,” God said in the first commandment.

But the people struggled to remain faithful. The Book of Judges tells a grim tale of cycles: sin, oppression, repentance, and deliverance. Over and over, the people forgot God and turned to the gods of the nations around them.

Fast forward to the days of the kings. David had a heart for God. Solomon started strong, but his heart was divided. By the time we reach the northern kingdom — ten tribes that split off after Solomon — things have deteriorated. King after king “did evil in the sight of the Lord.”

Then comes Ahab.

And Ahab? He takes things to another level. He marries Jezebel, the daughter of a Phoenician king — and with her, Baal worship becomes official policy.

1 Kings 16:33 NRSV

Ahab also made a sacred pole. Ahab did more to provoke the anger of the Lord, the God of Israel, than had all the kings of Israel who were before him.

So God calls a prophet named Elijah to go to Ahab and Jezebel and confront them about the ways that they have been leading the people astray.

To understand what Elijah is up against, we have to understand who Baal was.

Baal was the Canaanite storm god. His name means “lord” or “master.” He was believed to control rain, fertility, and the seasons. In an agricultural society, that kind of god was enticing. Worshiping Baal promised rain in drought, crops in famine, power in battle.

Baal worship was dramatic and emotional. It involved frenzied rituals, ecstatic dances, and sometimes even self-mutilation. There were also darker practices — temple prostitution and, in some places, child sacrifice.

What’s worse: Baal wasn’t replacing Yahweh entirely — he was being added to the worship of Yahweh. This is what we call was syncretism — mixing two belief systems. The people were hedging their bets. Trying to follow Yahweh and Baal.

And that’s where Elijah comes in to confront Ahab

1 Kings 18:17–39 NRSV

When Ahab saw Elijah, Ahab said to him, “Is it you, you troubler of Israel?” He answered, “I have not troubled Israel; but you have, and your father’s house, because you have forsaken the commandments of the Lord and followed the Baals. Now therefore have all Israel assemble for me at Mount Carmel, with the four hundred fifty prophets of Baal and the four hundred prophets of Asherah, who eat at Jezebel’s table.” So Ahab sent to all the Israelites, and assembled the prophets at Mount Carmel. Elijah then came near to all the people, and said, “How long will you go limping with two different opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.” The people did not answer him a word. Then Elijah said to the people, “I, even I only, am left a prophet of the Lord; but Baal’s prophets number four hundred fifty. Let two bulls be given to us; let them choose one bull for themselves, cut it in pieces, and lay it on the wood, but put no fire to it; I will prepare the other bull and lay it on the wood, but put no fire to it. Then you call on the name of your god and I will call on the name of the Lord; the god who answers by fire is indeed God.” All the people answered, “Well spoken!” Then Elijah said to the prophets of Baal, “Choose for yourselves one bull and prepare it first, for you are many; then call on the name of your god, but put no fire to it.” So they took the bull that was given them, prepared it, and called on the name of Baal from morning until noon, crying, “O Baal, answer us!” But there was no voice, and no answer. They limped about the altar that they had made. At noon Elijah mocked them, saying, “Cry aloud! Surely he is a god; either he is meditating, or he has wandered away, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.” Then they cried aloud and, as was their custom, they cut themselves with swords and lances until the blood gushed out over them. As midday passed, they raved on until the time of the offering of the oblation, but there was no voice, no answer, and no response. Then Elijah said to all the people, “Come closer to me”; and all the people came closer to him. First he repaired the altar of the Lord that had been thrown down; Elijah took twelve stones, according to the number of the tribes of the sons of Jacob, to whom the word of the Lord came, saying, “Israel shall be your name”; with the stones he built an altar in the name of the Lord. Then he made a trench around the altar, large enough to contain two measures of seed. Next he put the wood in order, cut the bull in pieces, and laid it on the wood. He said, “Fill four jars with water and pour it on the burnt offering and on the wood.” Then he said, “Do it a second time”; and they did it a second time. Again he said, “Do it a third time”; and they did it a third time, so that the water ran all around the altar, and filled the trench also with water. At the time of the offering of the oblation, the prophet Elijah came near and said, “O Lord, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, that I am your servant, and that I have done all these things at your bidding. Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so that this people may know that you, O Lord, are God, and that you have turned their hearts back.” Then the fire of the Lord fell and consumed the burnt offering, the wood, the stones, and the dust, and even licked up the water that was in the trench. When all the people saw it, they fell on their faces and said, “The Lord indeed is God; the Lord indeed is God.”

Essentially Elijah stands on Mount Carmel — a high place traditionally associated with Baal worship — and he draws a line in the sand.

“How long will you go limping with two different opinions? If the Lord is God, follow him; but if Baal, then follow him.”

The people say nothing.

Nothing. Because divided hearts often lead to silent mouths. And indecision is easier than confrontation.

So Elijah proposes a contest. Two altars. Two bulls. One real God. The prophets of Baal cry out all day, dance, and cut themselves — but nothing happens.

Then Elijah prays a simple prayer, and fire falls from heaven. It consumes the offering, the wood, the stones, and the water in the trench.

It’s God’s answer. Not just to Elijah, but to Israel. And the people fall on their faces and cry out, “The Lord indeed is God! The Lord indeed is God!”

That cry marks a turning point — a reclaiming of allegiance. But Elijah’s question still hangs in the air: “How long will you limp between two opinions?”

When we read the New Testament, Jesus speaks with similar urgency. His first public words in Mark’s Gospel are:

Mark 1:15 NRSV

and saying, “The time is fulfilled, and the kingdom of God has come near; repent, and believe in the good news.”

That phrase “repent and believe” might sound passive to modern ears — but it’s not. It’s a radical call to loyalty.

And at the center of it is a Greek word: pistis.

Usually translated “faith,” pistis carries a deeper meaning than mere belief. In the first-century world, pistis meant allegiance, loyalty, faithfulness. It was the kind of trust and commitment you pledged to a king, a general, or a cause.

To have pistis in Jesus isn’t just to believe he existed or that he’s important — it’s to swear allegiance to him as Lord and King. As Matthew Bates puts it, “Faith is allegiance.”

That means faith is not just something we feel — it’s something we live. It’s not just about thinking rightly — it’s about following faithfully.

Which brings us back to Elijah’s question. Not just “Do you believe?” — but “Whom will you serve?”

Jesus himself drives this home:

Luke 9:23 NRSV

Then he said to them all, “If any want to become my followers, let them deny themselves and take up their cross daily and follow me.

In other words: you can’t follow two masters. You can’t serve Baal and Yahweh. You can’t follow Jesus and cling to the gods of control, power, money, or self.

The choice Jesus offers is the same as Elijah’s: Repent of divided loyalty. Choose me. Follow me.

So let’s come down off Mount Carmel and ask:

Where in your life are you hedging your bets? What modern-day Baals have slipped in?

Maybe it’s not a statue or an idol — but maybe it’s a job title, a bank account, a political ideology, a dream you’re unwilling to surrender. Maybe it’s comfort, or control, or fear.

In a culture obsessed with choice, options, and never settling — Jesus calls us to decide. And not deciding is still deciding. Still limping. Still stuck at the fork in the trail.

Friends — we all face Mount Carmel moments.

Moments when the trail forks. Moments when the silence of indecision becomes too heavy to bear. Moments when Jesus calls us — not to belief alone — but to allegiance.

So today I ask you: Who holds your loyalty? Where is your allegiance?

Don’t limp between two paths. Don’t wait for more signs. The fire of God has already fallen — in the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ.

So come to the mountain. See the fire. And say with all your heart: “The Lord indeed is God.”

Amen.