What are You doing Here, Elijah?

Elijah has long been one of my favorite figures in the Old Testament.  As a prophet of God, Elijah was privileged to not only speak God’s truth to the Israelites, but also to bear witness to many astounding miracles.  In what may be his “crowning moment,” Elijah arranged a showdown on Mount Carmel with 450 priest-prophets of Baal – a pagan Canaanite god which many of the Israelites had taken to worshipping in lieu of God.  God (and thereby Elijah) emerged victorious, and a great revival broke out as a result.

But then Elijah received a personalized, hand-delivered death threat from the wicked Jezebel, and his victory dance was cut short.  Fearing for his life, Elijah fled to Beersheba (in Judah), journeyed into the wilderness, sat under a juniper tree and requested for himself that he might die.  “It is enough; now, O Lord, take my life, for I am not better than my fathers.” (1 Kings 19:4)

Isn’t it good that God doesn’t give us everything we ask for?

Elijah was experiencing a type of exhaustion that follows an adrenaline spike, and I would wager that many of us have experienced a similar exhaustion at some point.  We  had put on the brave face and encouraged others, serving as a steadfast bulwark in their dark nights, but it took its toll and left us depleted.  That, of course, is when the enemy ramps up his attacks (not nice).

But God responds graciously to Elijah, providing him with food, water and rest.  More than this, God had a plan to meet with Elijah at Mount Horeb in a very intimate way reminiscent of a famous meeting with Moses centuries before.  So while he gave room for Elijah to rest, recover and grieve, He also gave Elijah the sustenance and energy for the next journey.  “Arise and eat, because the journey [to Mount Horeb] is too great for you.”  Indeed the journey took Elijah 40 days, but oh was the journey ever worth it.  God met with Elijah in a powerful and unique way, and their prayers back and forth were fascinating.

I always find it fascinating to ponder the biblical accounts of prayer, and particularly the accounts of God’s words in prayer with His people.  Of course we know that prayer is dialogue – a conversation – but we often place most of the emphasis on our words and heart in prayer, unwittingly neglecting the listening aspect.

Having 40 days and nights to reflect on his situation, it appears that Elijah did not have greater clarity, but rather greater despair.  He lays out his situation as he sees it in a complaint before the Lord.  “I have been very zealous for the Lord… but the sons of Israel have forsaken your covenant… and killed your prophets… and I alone am left; and they seek my life…” (1 Kings 19:10)  I am reminded of the story of the old eskimo dog trainer who had fed one dog more than the others and then remarked how it had grown stronger.  We can choose what thoughts and ideas we feed and nourish to become strong – do we want negative thoughts to run our lives, or positive thoughts?

But here in the cave on Mount Horeb, God meets with Elijah in a beautiful and powerful way, asking a deeply profound question: “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

WHAT are you doing here, Elijah?  This is an invitation to honest self-reflection.  What are we doing, thinking, saying, manifesting in the presence of God?  Are we co-laboring with God in the ministry of reconciliation?  Are we acknowledging His beauty and power?  Are we wallowing in self-pity and despair?  Let us be mindful to take every thought captive (2 Cor. 10:5).

What are YOU doing here, Elijah?  This is an invitation to personalization.  Not, “hey what are the Israelites doing?” or “tell me about the prophets who have been persecuted,” but “let’s talk about you for a minute.”  Going back to the previous points, we know that we are often “locked in a prison” of our own design, and “guarded” by our own soundtracks.  These can change, but it starts with an honest and personal evaluation of self and reality.

What are you doing HERE, Elijah?  This is an invitation to treat this ground as “holy ground” like when Moses spoke with God at the burning bush.  A place is not inherently holy or unholy based on external factors, but by how we interface with God and man.  Even Solomon’s temple – the “most holy” building in antiquity was naught but brick and mortar when the people had rejected God so thoroughly that His Holy Spirit left the temple.  So also, a mundane hillside where one keeps dirty smelly sheep can become holy ground when we revere the God of heaven there.

I’ve long since appreciated Elijah, finding him to be very relatable in his “high’s and low’s.”  May we, like him, pause long enough to recognize the voice of God as a gentle whisper in our busy lives, and pause to reflect when He asks us the same question: “What are you doing here?”