1 Kings 19.1–18. Luke 3.1–20. Psalm 33.
The third in a sermon series, “The Troubler of Israel,” preached at St Margaret’s Church Nedlands on July 13
I’m sure you would be able to remember times when you were on an emotional high, maybe also when you were so low you seriously thought about ending it all. If you can think back to those times, you will better understand Elijah in today’s reading.
Chapter 18 of 1 Kings ends:
… the heavens grew black with clouds and wind, and there was a great rain. And Ahab rode and went to Jezreel. And the hand of the LORD was on Elijah, and he gathered up his garment and ran before Ahab to the entrance of Jezreel.
Here is one excited man! God told him to announce a drought which would only end when he, Elijah, gave the word. No one took him seriously, of course, until the winter rains of the first year failed, and then the spring rains. Ahab began to worry, and sought to find him. But he had disappeared. For more than two years he has been in hiding, in a ravine east of the Jordan, until its water dried up, and then God sent him to a widow near Sidon. Then, after more than two years, he told him to present himself to the king and announce a contest between the new god and the old. He prayed, and fire fell from heaven, and now the rain is on its way. How could he not have been emotional?
I mentioned my holiday on the farm in the terrible drought of 1954. The time came to return home. An aunt was to take me and my cousin on the train. I have a clear memory of us under the pepper trees in front of the farmhouse waiting for the car to take us to the station. At that moment it began to rain for the first time, and people began to weep. But for Elijah it was something more. Singlehanded he has wrestled the nation and brought them back to God. Baal is defeated, his prophets are dead. The king knows. Israel knows. All is well. Ahab’s chariot takes off in the rain. And Elijah runs—forty-five kilometres—outpacing Ahab’s chariot, all the way to Jezreel.
I would like to know what Ahab’s feelings were when he told his wife what had happened. Surely she will concede defeat, but not her.
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 as the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” Then he was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life and came to Beersheba, which belongs to Judah …
Where is he going? Elijah thought Israel would return to God, and he would be a national hero, and but now the awful realization dawns that nothing has changed, and Jezebel is out to kill him. From an all-time high he plumets to the lowest of lows; he thinks about ending his life. Where is he going? He is heading for Horeb (Mt Sinai) where it all began. Why? That is a question God will ask him?
Whoever told his story saw this was a journey back to where it all began. I was out of my depth here, and called for help to the Old Testament teacher at my old college; Nathan and Diane Lovell were sent to help us by Australian CMS. Nathan has a PhD in computer robotics, and had just finished four years study at Moore College. They both have made the college in Cape Town their life’s work; Diane is translating the Bible into African languages, Nathan has completed a second doctorate in Old Testament, and has just written a commentary on the Books of Kings. I begged for his chapter on Elijah at Mt Sinai. I don’t normally footnote my sermons, but I have lent so heavily on his work that I must acknowledge him as my main source. He points out that from Beersheba to Sinai is an eleven-day journey; forty days and forty nights is a stretch, meant to remind us of the forty years Israel spent wandering in the wilderness after they came to the mountain of God. The is was the formative moment of their national existence. The plagues in Egypt and the crossing of the sea were behind them; at Sinai they were to meet with God, and what a meeting it was. The mountain shook and burned with fire, there was a loud trumpet blast, and they heard the voice of God from the mountain top. He adopted them as his special people, gave them their national covenant, and spoke his law. Nathan thinks Elijah maybe wants to start over. When Moses ascended the mountain and was out of sight, the people turned to their old ways and began worshipping a bull-calf. God threatened to destroy them and begin again, but Moses begged him to forgive, and an uneasy reconciliation was arranged.[1] But never were they faithful for long, and now the country has gone after Baal, and not even the contest at Mt Carmel has been effective.
And behold, the word of the LORD came to him, and he said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”
He said, “I have been very jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away.
God sends him out to the entrance of his cave and tells him he is about to pass by. Perhaps Elijah came to Sinai to meet with God, face to face, as it were. There was an occasion when Moses wanted to see God’s glory, and God said this was impossible, but he would “pass by.” He would hide him in a crack in a rock and cover him with his hand as he “passed by,” and Moses would see his disappearing glory.[2] And now it looks as though God is going to do it again. Elijah went out to stand before the LORD.
And behold, the LORD (Yahweh) passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks 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. 12 And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.
This is Mt Sinai all over again, but this time the Lord is not in it. Some might think the Lord was in the Texas floods. It is true he commands the weather, but whether he is there in the way people think, we cannot know without him telling us. He was not there for Elijah in the earthquake and storm. Rather, he is there in the sound (or voice) of a “thin whisper,” “a still small voice.”
Nathan has helped me see that what we have here is the great anti-climax. Fire from heaven should be enough to convince people to follow God, but not any number of miracles will change human nature, or produce a good world. As soon as God is out of sight, the rot sets in. Does this mean the whole enterprise of creating a world of righteousness is hopeless? It would seem so, but no, God will do it, but in a different way. We should perhaps translate this not as the sound of a thin whisper, but as a barely audible voice. God will build his kingdom by his word and Spirit, but for most of the time this will not appear impressive or powerful; to human eyes it will be insignificant.
Elijah is sent back, and the instructions God gives him indicate his job is almost over. He is not the Saviour of Israel. He is to anoint Hazael as king over Syria, and appoint Elisha as his own successor. Israel’s story will continue. Much of it will be a story of judgement. Syria will go on attacking them, and Elijah will not always be there to help. But the word of the Lord will continue. Elisha will take up where Elijah leaves off. The key statement is verse 18:
Yet I will cause to remain seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal, and every mouth that has not kissed him.
God is not saying there are already seven thousand who are loyal to him; he will raise them up: a remnant, who will not escape the agony of the nation’s judgement, but will ultimately be saved. Again, we have a symbolic number, like the 144,000 of Revelation.[3] As Nathan points out, this is the beginning of the remnant theology that we meet with often in the Bible.[4] Such is the rebellious nature of humans that nothing will avail except the sovereign intervention of the God who said to Moses, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy.”[5] A remnant will be saved, chosen by God.
Always, when we set out to understand a passage of Scripture, we ask, “What is the meaning of this in its historical context, and does it have any relevance to us today?” For Elijah, the meaning is clear. He has not rescued Israel. God’s work goes on through his word, but it is painstaking, and in any generation may seem weak and ineffective in comparison to the godlessness of the world. Elijah’s work is nearly over; he has served in his generation, which is all any of us can do, and he must now appoint his successor. He must also appoint the nation’s oppressor. Hazael will murder Ben Hadad, and become king of Damascus and Aram. In the next generation, he will cause much suffering for Israel and Judah. We can learn for this that God is sovereign even in the raising up and putting down of enemy kings. There are no accidents—not from God’s side. Imagine if today the Lord sent a prophet to Benjamin Netanyahu and told him who would be his successor, and whom he would raise up to continue making war! Israel’s story goes on, even today, but today there is no prophet. But we are dealing with more than Israel. Even Putin was raised up by God, and Zelenski, and Xi Jinping, and Trump, and each will do what is appointed for him to do, though he may not know it, and each will last only to the day of God’s appointment. This may shock us, but it is the consistent message of the Bible. Of course, we should not think because God has decreed so-and-so to be a leader, that he is therefore pleased with that person; a godless leader may carry forward the sovereign purposes of God. God raised up Pharoah, and brought about much suffering for the Hebrews, but through it he achieved their salvation. When we say Jesus is Lord, we mean that he is Lord of history, “King of kings and Lord of lords.” He is driving history to its final conclusion.
But Elijah’s story is also of significance for the church. I don’t mean the institutional church, but the community of Jesus’ true followers—the remnant. Think for a moment of John the Baptist and Jesus. John was the first prophet after four hundred years of silence. He was a new Elijah, whose task was to bring the nation back to God. He led a great movement, and it seemed for a while that he might succeed. But Herod locked him away, and then killed him. The greatest man who had ever lived, Jesus called him, yet he served only his own generation, and only truly moved the hearts of a remnant. And what about his successor? Jesus saw his mission in Galilee as ineffective, though Luke tells us that as he turned towards Jerusalem,
he rejoiced in the Holy Spirit and said, ‘I thank you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, that you have hidden these things from the wise and understanding and revealed them to little children; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will.’”[6]
Though Galilee did not repent, and although the story would be the same in Jerusalem, yet Jesus rejoices in the sovereign plan of God to save a remnant. When he came to Jerusalem: his followers were wildly excited by what they thought would happen. James and John even wanted him to call down fire from heaven.[7] And when he was arrested and the next morning and hung up to die … this was not a Mt Sinai moment, this was the sound of a thin whisper. God appeared to do nothing, though not nothing.
We have to say God’s plan is strange to us: nothing we would have expected or wished. Yes, there are demonstrations of power, like the Exodus and Elijah at Mt Carmel. And God raised Jesus from his tomb and exalted him to be the human ruler of his creation, and he is even now moving heaven and earth towards that consummation when his kingdom will have fully come. And yet, for us caught up in the middle of it all—in our own generation— it still remains true that it is the voice of a thin whisper. Our churches are near to empty and the secular juggernaut drives everything before it.
I am presently wrestling with the strange ending of the Book of Acts. Throughout the book Paul is reminded that God intends he reach Rome, and bear testimony before the Emperor. That should be the climactic end of the book, but it actually ends with a great anti-climax. When Luke penned its final words, nothing had happened. Paul has been in prison for two years and is still waiting, and all Luke can say is that
… he welcomed all who came to him, proclaiming the kingdom of God and teaching about the Lord Jesus Christ with all boldness and without hindrance.[8]
But isn’t that something? And isn’t it approximately where we are ourselves, with our churches weak and unimpressive, but with a remnant continuing, and the word of God unhindered. And that may be all we can do in our own generation: keep teaching the word, encourage the remnant of believers, and pray “your kingdom come.” But come it will. “Not my might and not by power, but by my Spirit,” said God through the prophet Zechariah.[9] Beginning as a mustard seed, Jesus said. And what could be more mustard-seed-like than a man dying on a cross? But when harvest time comes, there will be a community such as the world has never seen, to inhabit a healed world, which will never pass away.
It is possible to preorder Nathan Lovell’s commentary on the books of Kings: https://www.amazon.com/Hodder-Bible-Commentary-Kings-ebook/dp/B0F4D1D5HH/ref=sr_1_4
[1] Exodus 32.
[2] Exodus 33.
[3] Revelation 7.1–8.
[4] For example, Romans 9.27–29.
[5] Exodus 33.19; Romans 9.15.
[6] Luke 10.
[7] Luke 9.51–56.
[8] Acts 28.
[9] Zechariah 4.6.