In a world of authoritarian leaders, Elijah’s story should give us backbone and courage. (Listen here.)
What a story! Old Elijah heads up a mountain and encounters God in silence. Those of us who hang around churches have probably heard it before, and we’ve probably also heard that it’s an invitation to personal prayer. Get away from it all, get quiet time alone, and listen for God’s voice in the stillness. And on a good day, if you’re blessed, you’ll have a spiritual experience.
This is certainly one way to interpret the story. Prayer and time with God are essential to the life of faith. We need these things daily. But if we zoom out a little, I think the story has much more to offer people living in a time like this.
The story is set in a sequence that we call 1 & 2 Kings, and 1 & 2 Kings has a purpose. Way back when, the people of ancient Israel had no king. Instead, they had the law and the prophets to guide them. But fulfilling the law and listening to the prophets was hard. It took time. It took effort. It took maturity, and community discernment. So the people begged for a king: a strong leader who would make decisions and order their lives and manage everything. When Trump returned to the White House, supporters chanted, ‘Daddy’s home!’ I think they were longing for just such a king.
When the people of ancient Israel demanded a king, the prophet Samuel warned them what would happen. A king would conscript their children into the army. He’d force others into a service economy. He’d turn manufacturing towards weapons and fancy chariots (ahem, Tesla). He’d take their best land and give it to his mates, and he’d tax the poor heavily (1 Samuel 8). The people heard Samuel’s warnings, but they didn’t care. So God decided to give them a king so they could learn by experience. 1 & 2 Kings, then, describe a series of increasingly awful kings who do everything that Samuel said and more. Their faithlessness and violence eventually lead to ancient Israel’s collapse.
These days, we don’t have a king exactly, but we certainly live in an age of kings. Think of America, and the ‘No Kings’ protest on June 14, where 4-6 million Americans turned out to protest Trump’s endless grabbing at riches and power and women. Think of modern Israel, and Netanyahu’s relentless bombing of Gaza, and the rich men who say they want to get rid of the Palestinians so they can build a series of luxury resorts. Think of Russia, and Putin’s conscription of countless young people to fight his land grab in Ukraine. And think of all the other places in the world where government leaders act in the ways described by Samuel. The story arc of 1 & 2 Kings is highly relevant in this day and age, and tonight’s episode featuring Elijah offers more than tips on personal prayer. To people who are horrified by the brutality of world leaders, to people who are trying to resist, to people who are feeling overwhelmed by it all, this story should offer backbone and courage.
To understand how, let’s look at why Elijah headed to the mountain in the first place. If we flip back a few pages, we find that the royals, King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, were trying to murder all the prophets of God: so Elijah lived on the run. But his friend Obadiah negotiated a conversation between Elijah and the king. There, Elijah invited the priests of Ahab’s god to a contest, challenging them to rain down fire on an altar. When the 450 prophets of Baal prayed, nothing happened. But when Elijah prayed, the offerings were burned up. Everyone witnessed that God was God and Baal was nothing. Then Elijah prayed again, and God sent desperately-needed rain to a drought-stricken land. Finally Elijah, filled with God’s power, ran faster than the king’s chariot as they raced back from a mountain into the city. His demonstration of God’s presence and power was awe-inspiring, and the people who saw turned back to God.
Well, most turned back. There was an exception: Queen Jezebel. Jezebel became enraged that her favourite prophets had lost the contest and their lives, so she ordered Elijah’s immediate assassination. And this man, who had spent years successfully resisting and avoiding murderous kings, who had just called down fire on the altar and rain from the heavens, who had just run faster than the king’s best horses, who in God’s power could do pretty much anything, it seems: well, he turns and runs away! And there in the desert, under a lonely shrub, he prays: ‘I’ve had enough, God; kill me now!’
Note that this is not a prayer of wonder or praise or gratitude for all the amazing things that have just happened; it’s not a prayer for protection or wisdom or any other good thing. Instead, ‘Kill me now!’ and then Elijah falls asleep.
Twice he is woken by an angel, who tenderly feeds him. Then he travels up the mountain and into a cave. There he meets God, who asks, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’ Elijah’s just been fed by an angel. Twice. You’d think he’d be transformed by this amazing spiritual experience and that he’d maybe mention it to God. Instead he moans that he’s the only righteous person left in Israel, and that his life is under threat.
In response, God tells him to go outside. There Elijah experiences some heavy duty stuff: wind, earthquake, fire. But God is not in them. Then comes the sound of sheer silence: and God is in the silence. The voice comes to him for the second time, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’
Again, you’d think Elijah would be transformed by his amazing experience: first he encountered an angel, now God! Instead, Elijah again complains that he’s the only righteous person left in Israel, and that his life is under threat. He’s clearly overwhelmed and furious and self-pitying and depressed. So what does God do? Well, God doesn’t pat him on the head and give him a biscuit. Nor does God give up on him. Instead, God tells him to get back to work and to anoint a prophet to replace him. Then God reminds him of the 7,000 in Israel who remain faithful. In other words, God tells Elijah, ‘Pull yourself together, mate. Do your job. Prepare for the future. And look around: you’re not the only faithful one in town.’
I feel for Elijah. In the face of terrible power it’s easy to develop tunnel vision: to focus only on the bad, to become discouraged, to be blind to the people in solidarity with us. ‘I’m the only one,’ he moans in self-pity. He’s forgotten his friend Obadiah. He’s forgotten the 100 faithful prophets Obadiah had hidden in a cave. He hasn’t noticed the 7,000 faithful people in Israel. He can’t imagine a future without playing a central role himself. He had known fire on the altar, rain in the sky, power in his legs and so much more, all due to God’s presence; and he was surrounded by other faithful people. Yet he couldn’t see past his own nose and so, in fear and overwhelm, he ran away.
In fear and overwhelm, he was fed by an angel; in fear and overwhelm, he encountered God. And you’d think these extraordinary spiritual experiences would have uplifted Elijah. But according to the story, they did nothing for him. He didn’t fall to his knees in awe and wonder. He wasn’t filled with peace or hope. He just continued to moan and groan and feel sorry for himself.
The story suggests that, when we try to be spiritual alone, when we convince ourselves that we are uniquely faithful, or when we believe that we, and only we, know the mind of God, we become incredibly vulnerable. We become vulnerable to arrogance, fear, anxiety, depression, burnout. We risk being obsessed by self-importance; we risk being consumed by self-pity; we risk not noticing the extraordinary works of power God is doing in this world, and the many, many people in whom God is active.
But the story also tells me something else. It tells me that God is so patient, so gracious and so kind, that even when we run away, God will still seek us out and meet us in our need … if only to tell us to go back to the people, and get back to work. For it is among the people, working amidst the principalities and powers, that we find courage and solidarity. And it is among the people, working amidst the principalities and powers, that God must be proclaimed through word and deed and the sharing of lives and in acts of resistance both large and small.
And so my friends, in this age of kings and their terrible excesses, I ask you: how do you resist? And what are you doing here? And where will you be tomorrow? For here, God meets you in your need, but tomorrow is where courage and hope lie, as you live and love and work and resist among friends and family, classmates and colleagues, neighbours, strangers and all the faithful people you haven’t noticed yet. So today, rest, and listen, and take, and eat. But tomorrow, get back among the people and get back to work. For God’s peaceful kingdom shall come, and God’s loving will shall be done, on earth as it is in heaven. May we be part of this joyful effort. Amen. Ω
Reflect: What are some of the evil principalities and powers? How do you resist? What are you doing here? And where will you be tomorrow?
Reflection shared with Auburn Life, a small Baptist church with a big missional heart in Melbourne’s inner east, on 22 April 2025 (Proper 7 Year C) © Alison Sampson, 2025.
Alison and the whale 