God Speaks to Elijah

Be still.

Peace. Be still.

There is a lot of noise in my life right now. A lot of things vying for my heart and attention. These things include the normal parts of being a parent and in middle age, like making sure permission slips are filled out and quarterly taxes paid. But it also includes the immensity of a cancer diagnosis, the failing health of people I love, the unrest we feel as a nation, and the worries of what great global instability might arise next.

I say these things are noise, making it seem like they are simply unwanted distractions, but in truth, the noise amounts to a suffocating force at times, a pressure of existential dread and concern.

Does this feel familiar to you?

I’m gonna share my take away with you up front today: In the noise, in the persecution, in the pain and suffering, God is found in the stillness.

Actually, this is true of times of jubilation and joy, as well. God is in the stillness, the soft smile of a parent watching their child grow and own their own identity. The pride and love one feels for good work to do each day. These things, as well, can become noise and we can begin to lose our ability to hear from God.

This is where we find the prophet Elijah. His noise is the wickedness of the King and Queen of Israel, King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. Our passage today comes from a time in Hebrew history where the monarchy has fractured and corruption and evil ways reign. Ahab and Jezebel control the people and Elijah and Elisha, the prophets of the time, are under threat and Elijah must flee.

Like the Israelites in their flight from Egypt, or even Jesus in his 40 days of temptation, Elijah is led out into the wilderness. In a moment, we’ll hear how he cries out to God in despair — wouldn’t it be better to just be dead, rather than deal with all of this struggle and strife?

Let’s hear the story of the Prophet Elijah. God speaks to Elijah, in silence.

A couple of quick notes about this story: We’re looking at period of history where Israel is divided into a northern and southern kingdom. In the North, Ahab the king has married Jezebel, thought to be the daughter of Phoenician royalty, a marriage that would create an alliance between Israel and the people to their north, in modern Syria/Lebanon. The King of Israel was meant to be one who kept the people aligned and pure, not gravitating to foreign powers for support, nor making alliances through marriage.

In addition, in the text, we’ll hear that Elijah was sustained by the miraculous food God provides and sustained for 40 days, at that. This should remind us of Manna in the wilderness and the 40 years of wandering from the Israelite people. AND, Mt. Horeb, mentioned as the place where Elijah encounters God, the Mountain of God, as Tracy’s Godly play story discussed, is thought by scholars to be synonomous with Mt. Sinai, where Moses received the Ten Commandments. If you remember back to the Abraham and Isaac story, there are actually multiple streams of oral and narrative history woven into the Hebrew Testament, the Elohist and Yahwist traditions. According to scholars, the Yahwist tradition calls this mountain Sinai, while the Elohists call it Horeb. Why does this matter? Because if we’re thinking of this divided kingdom of God’s people and the weaving ways they told their story through the generations, it can feel like we lose track of places or people in all the names and battles and stories. But this is likely the same mountain, the Mountain of God, the place where God dwells or encounters humanity. And our interest should be piqued — this encounter with God is important.

Ok, let’s hear our Scripture.

1 Kings 19:1–18 NRSV

Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me, and more also, if I do not make your life like the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” Then he was afraid; he got up and fled for his life, and came to Beer-sheba, which belongs to Judah; he left his servant there. But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness, and came and sat down under a solitary broom tree. He asked that he might die: “It is enough; now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.” Then he lay down under the broom tree and fell asleep. Suddenly an angel touched him and said to him, “Get up and eat.” He looked, and there at his head was a cake baked on hot stones, and a jar of water. He ate and drank, and lay down again. The angel of the Lord came a second time, touched him, and said, “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” He got up, and ate and drank; then he went in the strength of that food forty days and forty nights to Horeb the mount of God. At that place he came to a cave, and spent the night there. Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” He said, “Go out and stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces before the Lord, but the Lord was not in the wind; and after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake; and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He answered, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.” Then the Lord said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus; when you arrive, you shall anoint Hazael as king over Aram. Also you shall anoint Jehu son of Nimshi as king over Israel; and you shall anoint Elisha son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah as prophet in your place. Whoever escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall kill; and whoever escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall kill. Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.”

Today, I want to keep us very focused on the revelation of Elijah.

He is scared. He’s ready to die. His world is caving in.

Does anyone else resonate with that sentiment? I certainly do. And I know many of you have reason to, also.

All of my career in ministry, we have said that we live in a time of great upheaval. This has not relaxed or abated. We live in a time of immense change and it is difficult to see a way forward often.

I’m experiencing that in my personal life, as most of you know. When Stacy was diagnosed with Stage 4 Metastatic bone cancer in June, it through our world into a spin. Nothing will be the same.

I know there are so many others of us in this place reeling from similar or adjacent struggles. How many of us are impacted by cancer right now, either ourselves or as caregivers to someone very near?

And it’s not just cancer that plagues us. Think of how many of us have lost a spouse, partner, or dear friend in the last few years. Those wounds and losses hurt.

Or how many of us struggle with employment insecurity or teeter on the edge of homelessness? We may not realize it, but these are issues that directly face the people of this congregation every single day.

For others, it may be a more subtle creep of despair and dread. We begin to see our loved one lose their cognitive abilities. Memories begin to fade. Our bodies grown and break down.

And these are not just issues for us as we age and move towards the later part of life. Think of our children, who are riddled with anxiety and worry about their world. My son does not want to talk about climate change, at least in detail, because of the deep existential dread it causes him. He can’t describe it that way, but I see it. Or how about our children who struggle to fit into the “mainstream” and express their personalities more fluidly or divergently from the norm? They are presented with a mountain of their own to climb, hopefully figuring out the right tools to function in a society that is hardly able to understand, much less celebrate them.

We are on the run, like Elijah, and we’re crying out to God — please, show yourself!!

I’ll confess, there are times these days when I really struggle to find God’s presence. Many of my prayers begin with “God, if you’re even there…”

I’ve found myself distracted by possibilities of mystic union with God, where somehow God interacts with me on a very real, personal level, as if like a friend or partner. I want thunder, lightening, a booming voice, a physical presence. I long for clarity.

But God is not in the whirlwind. God is not in the fire. God is not yelling over the megaphone. God is not in the politicians words. God is nowhere to be found.

Is it all futile? Have we finally gotten behind the curtain and see the Wizard of Oz for what they truly are?

Let’s return to our story.

Elijah is sustained and then goes to the mountain of God at waits. God came to the Israelites as a pillar of fire and a cloud. Moses supposedly saw a part of God’s backside when he received his revelation. So Elijah is looking for grand signs and wonders like these to assure him of his purpose.

But this does not occur. Not in the fire. Not in the wind. Not in the earthquake. God is not there.

I’m going to bring this all together by looking back to where we began. So much noise. So much to despair.

It’s very easy for me, and I imagine you, to throw up my hands and say, I am done. I quit. Let us just die and end this nonsense once and for all.

The cancer isn’t going away. The loved one is not coming back. The world is not just. The poor are abused. The rich and kingly of our society sit proud of their accomplishments while so many struggle.

Are you at the end of your rope, like Elijah?

Are you?

Then let us come together, sit in silence, and wait for the Lord.

I feel very uncertain about what happens next.

But. What I know I’ve found, is that in that space of waiting, in the silence of the unknown, there is peace.

In the silence, in the absence of all other noise, God is. In the empty spaces, where we let down our guard, God dwells.

You know that rule, about how good ideas or epiphanies come to us in strange moments when our minds are at ease? Like how you come up with a good idea or a solution while you’re in the shower. I feel this sometimes when I’m folding laundry — neuroscientists know this to be a reality, that our brain enters a different state of firing in these times, where the accumulated thoughts and data from our lives begins to be synthesized and meaning is made. It’s similar to what happens when we dream. Our minds relax and revelation can occur.

We need to cultivate spaces of stillness and sacred listening into our life together. We, as a community, have much to discern about our future. Finances are tight. Seasoned leaders are no longer able to serve. We need new life, new action, new participation. We need a fresh movement of the spirit.

Our work, today, is to admit that we’re running scared, like Elijah. Admit it. You feel it.

And then, we must sit. Wait, be still. As the Psalmist says, “Be still and know that I am God.”

In stillness, in silence, perhaps God will speak, arrive, move, spark, in us. It’s not guaranteed. And silence is hard. It can feel lonely or empty. But I promise you, that is where God will meet you. I don’t know how it will come upon you, but in silence, for generations, the people of God have encountered the divine.

Our sermon today is “God speaks to Elijah.” And in this account, God does speak, God instructs Elijah.

I invite you — how might God speak to you? Are you open? Are you still? Or are you grasping, like I often feel I am, trying to contrive a way to get God’s attention. The invitation is…be still and know, God is with us.

Let’s close with a moment of stillness and silence. Be still. Find your breath. Be still. And know the presence of the Almighty God.

Amen.