Get up and eat

One of the recurring themes of scripture is the idea that we each have a vocation that’s ours alone. We each have a unique role to play in the body of Christ. Last Sunday, we read a passage from the letter to the Ephesians that listed a few of those vocations: “some would be apostles, some prophets, some evangelists, some pastors and teachers.” The letter to the Romans includes its own list of gifts: prophesy, ministry, teaching, encouragement, sincerity, giving, diligence, leading, compassion, cheerfulness.

One vocation that shows up in both lists is probably the hardest calling of all: that of the prophet.

If I asked you to define the word “prophet,” what would you say?

If the first thing that comes to mind is a person who can predict the future, you’re not alone. That’s probably the most common way we think of prophets. But that’s a definition that owes more to Greek mythology than to the Bible. In the Bible, predicting the future might be part of a prophet’s message, but it’s not their main job. A prophet’s role is to speak truth to power. To tell the people—and their leaders—when they’re getting things wrong.

That’s not a recipe for popularity. Biblical prophets tended to spend a lot of time in prison or in exile, and they didn’t always die of old age.

Prophets, then and now, need a thick skin.

That reality makes the beginning of today’s reading from the First Book of Kings a bit odd.

Elijah is the greatest prophet of the Hebrew Bible. So what is he doing hiding in the wilderness begging God to end his life? Shouldn’t a prophet be more resilient?

Well, most of the time, he is.

Today, we only heard a piece of his story. Here’s a bit more:

God sends Elijah to prophesy to a king named Ahab. Ahab was getting pretty much everything wrong. The book of Kings says that “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” That’s a pretty high bar. Some of the highlights included worshiping a foreign God, making idols, and sacrificing children in the hope of making a fortress stronger.

Elijah tells Ahab that God will send a drought in punishment. And the drought comes. For three years, there’s no rain. At first, God sends Elijah to a wilderness area where ravens bring him food. When the water runs out there, God sends him to the home of a widow. The widow’s remaining handful of grain and drops of oil miraculously last until the drought ends. And Elijah’s prayer brings the widow’s son back to life when he dies.

Elijah’s power only grows from there. God sends him to challenge the prophets of Baal. Four hundred fifty men show up for the contest. Elijah tells them to sacrifice a bull and pray to Baal to send fire down onto the altar to consume the offering. They pray all morning, but nothing happens. Elijah shows no fear. He makes fun of them, saying that their God must be “meditating, or he has wandered away, or he is on a journey, or perhaps he is asleep and must be awakened.”

Then Elijah builds his own altar and sacrifices his own bull. Just to emphasize the point he’s making, he soaks everything in water. And then he prays his own prayer. And fire comes down from heaven, consuming bull, altar stones, water, and all. Now Elijah has the attention and the support of the crowd that’s there to witness these wonders. With the crowd’s help, he kills the four hundred fifty prophets of Baal and proclaims the end of the drought.

At this point, Elijah should be riding high. His predictions have all come true. He’s worked wonders, restored a child to life, called down fire from heaven, killed his enemies. If anyone ever had a reason to be sure of himself, it was Elijah.

But for some reason, a threatening message from King Ahab’s wife shakes his confidence. Elijah flees for his life. And we pick up where today’s reading begins, with the prophet hiding in the wilderness begging God for death.

It’s an odd reversal. Of all people, shouldn’t Elijah feel sure of God’s favor, sure of God’s power? Why should one threat worry him so much?

But it does.

Elijah would go on to do other great things. He would meet God on a mountaintop. He would continue to speak truth to kings. And at the end, he’d ascend in a whirlwind into heaven.

But this moment of despair in the wilderness is also part of his story.

I actually take some comfort in this moment in Elijah’s story. Comfort that a moment of desperation can happen to anyone. But also comfort in what happens next.

An angel appears with food and water and tells Elijah to get up and eat.

Sometimes a message that simple can be a miracle too. Rest, food, water—and a reminder that we need to get up and eat, or the journey will be too much for us.

Faith ebbs and flows. The highs and lows of our own lives may not be as extreme as they were for Elijah, but the pattern is the same. Moments of triumph. Moments in the desert. Sometimes you need to follow God’s voice into hard places and do hard things. But sometimes you just need to take the very next step. Sometimes you need to rest for a while and then get up and eat.

And sometimes the bread you find at hand will have been provided by an angel.

In a few minutes, we’ll gather around God’s table. And we’ll remember again Jesus’s words. “I am the bread of life,” he said. “Whoever comes to me will never be hungry, and whoever believes in me will never be thirsty.”

Even if your task isn’t as hard as the task of a prophet, remember the angel’s words to Elijah: “Get up and eat, otherwise the journey will be too much for you.” “Get up and eat.”