The following is a Meditation written by Doug Hood's son,
Nathanael Hood, MA, New York University.
The Lord said, “Go out and
stand at the mountain before the Lord. The Lord is passing by.”
A very strong
wind tore through the mountains and broke apart the stones before the Lord.
But
the Lord wasn’t in the wind. After the wind, there was an earthquake.
But the
Lord wasn’t in the earthquake. After the earthquake, there was a fire.
But the
Lord wasn’t in the fire. After the fire, there was a sound. Thin. Quiet.
When
Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his coat. He went out and stood at the cave’s
entrance.
A voice came to him and said, “Why are you here, Elijah?”
(1 Kings 19: 11-13 Common English Bible)
God had won. His fire had come
down from the heavens and devoured the sacrifices of grain and meat, scorching
the very alter to ashes. The 450 prophets of Baal who had desecrated his temple
with pagan worship and idols had failed to summon their god, and in the face of
the God of Israel’s majesty were seized and slaughtered on the spot. We don’t
know how many witnessed this miracle orchestrated by the prophet Elijah on
Mount Carmel, but all who did were amazed. All fell on their faces and
worshipped the God of Abraham and Isaac. Among them was the wicked king Ahab,
the very king who had welcomed the prophets of Baal. For a moment sanctity
seemed to be restored to the throne of David, and Elijah rushed to the
then-capital city of Jezreel in triumph.
But it was in this greatest moment
of victory that Elijah experienced one of his greatest moments of defeat.
Unmoved by her husband’s recounting of the miracle, queen Jezebel threatened to
have Elijah executed, forcing him into exile in the wilderness. And if we pay
close attention to the text, we see that nobody tried to stop or help him, not
even those who had seen the Lord’s fire with their own eyes.
After fleeing over 250 miles south
of Jezreel, an exhausted Elijah hides in a cave on Mount Horeb—the same
mountain upon which Moses received the Ten Commandments. After spending the
night, the Lord arrives and asks what he was doing there. Elijah explodes in
panicked fury: he’s hiding for his life! Despite all his work, despite the
prophecies and warnings, despite the miracles and wonders, the Israelites
haven’t repented of their wickedness and now seek his life! He has, in
short, done everything right. How can he be repaid like this?
What follows is one of the most
famous theophanies—or physical appearances of God—in the Old Testament. God
calls Elijah to come outside the cave and stand before him. But before Elijah
can, three calamities wrack Mount Horeb: a calamitous wind, an earthquake, and
a fire. And yet, the Lord was not in them. Pay very close attention to the
language being used here. Before Elijah’s eyes three earth-shattering,
world-ending cataclysms erupted. And yet the Lord was not in them. As
Terence E. Fretheim points out in his commentary on First and Second Kings, the
pagans believed that Baal manifested in such disasters; he was “in” them. But
these pass “before” the God of Elijah’s fathers. He is absent from their
ravages and destructions, absent from the despair they cast and the ruination
they bring. Only then does a soft, quiet sound come. Only then does Elijah wrap
his face in acknowledgment of being in the presence of the one true God. Only
then does God speak to him again, asking him the same simple question. Why are
you here, Elijah? You still have so much work to do.
One of the most common
misconceptions Christians share is that faith in God is some kind of shield
that protects one from tragedies and disasters. But they happen every day, even
to the most sincere and devout followers. Jobs and opportunities are lost.
Friends and family succumb to disease and accidents. Storms rage and devastate
entire seaboards. What we must not do is mistake these things as
righteous retribution from a vengeful God. A God concerned with heavy-handed
retribution for even the most minor of mistakes would not send his only son to
die for us. Ours is not a God who speaks with fire and fury. Ours is one who
seeks a relationship with us, one who sees and knows all and loves us in spite
of it. What we must do is seek it. And we can start by listening for his gentle
voice of reassurance and comfort in our most trying times. Only then can we
start to rebuild.
