“The Best of Times/The Worst of Times”
1Kings 19:9b-15a
Allen Huff
Jonesborough Presbyterian Church
2/24/18
“It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of
wisdom, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of belief, it was the
epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of
Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair…”1
Those opening lines from Charles Dickens’ novel A Tale of
Two Cities can be used to describe virtually every day of every age. Just
like it’s always day somewhere and night somewhere else, best and worst
co-exist on this earth.
For the prophet Elijah, it’s
the best and worst of times.
Prior to today’s reading,
Elijah engages in a winner-take-all showdown with the prophets of Baal up on
Mt. Carmel. In what might have looked
like an episode of some ancient version of Survivor, Elijah kicks all competing
prophets off the island. And he does so with higher drama than any “reality TV”
finale. But, things go quickly from best to worst. And Elijah’s ensuing actions
should humble and maybe even embarrass those of us in the Judeo-Christian
tradition who tend to judge other faith traditions for their violent
ways. After defeating the prophets of Baal, Elijah rounds them up like sacrificial
goats, herds them down to the river, and slaughters every one of them. 450 men!
King
Ahab, who had put his money on the prophets of Baal, scurries home to tell his
wife, Jezebel, what happened. Now, Jezebel is a piece of work. Suffice it to
say that she would never make the short list for Sunday School Teacher of the Year.
When she hears what Elijah has done,
she vows to do the same to him within the next twenty-four hours. Knowing that
Jezebel’s threat is real, Elijah runs deep into the wilderness and hides in a
cave. God tends to him there. Feeds him. Still, Elijah cries out to God,
saying, Life is cruel. Take me now, Lord!
Think about that: On Mt. Carmel, Elijah
confidently faces 450 men. Now he cowers in fear of one woman. What happened?
Caught in the tension between best and
worst, Elijah’s story begins to instruct us.
1Kings
19:9b-15a
Then the word of the Lord came to him, saying,
“What are you doing here, Elijah?”
10He answered, “I have been
very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken
your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the
sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”
11[God] said, “Go out and
stand on the mountain before the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.”
Now there was a great wind, so strong that it was
splitting mountains and breaking rocks in pieces 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; 12and after the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was
not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of sheer silence. 13When
Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood at
the entrance of the cave.
Then there came a voice to him that said, “What are
you doing here, Elijah?”
14He answered, “I have been
very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the Israelites have forsaken
your covenant, thrown down your altars, and killed your prophets with the
sword. I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away.”
15Then the Lord said to him,
“Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus.
When God says to Elijah, “What are you
doing here?” God is challenging the prophet to meditate on his situation, and to
remember how he has already experienced God’s sustaining love, strength, and
faithfulness.
Paralyzed by fear, Elijah just
complains to God saying, in effect,
I have been your faithful servant, and for all my
trouble I get death threats while they keep destroying the world!
‘Go higher up the mountain,’ says God. ‘And
get ready. I’m about to pay a visit.’
Then come the rock-splitting wind, the
earthquake, and the fire. And afterward
the “sheer silence.” In the wake of all this wonder, Elijah covers his face and
walks out of the cave.
Again, God says, “What are you doing
here, Elijah?”
Elijah gives, word-for-word, the same
answer as before: “I have been very zealous for the Lord, for the Israelites
have forsaken your covenant,” and so on.
And God says, Well then, just go on back to Damascus.
For Elijah, it’s the best and worst of
times. But life is always that way – best and worst, light and dark, hope and
despair all knotted together, like wind, earthquake, fire, and holy silence up
there on Mt. Horeb. In that grueling tension we can discover wonders that defy description. And usually, like
Elijah, we discover it later, during remembering and reflecting. I say that
because while he’s up there on the mountain talking with God and watching the
elemental struggle of creation, Elijah is aware only of himself and Jezebel.
Our nation’s addiction to violence is a
kind of Jezebel. And that vile mistress manipulates us into thinking in
superlative terms – best/worst, strongest/weakest, right/wrong. She turns every
issue into us versus them. Perhaps her favorite manipulation
is to make us think that our struggle is about ourselves alone, and that we
only truly live when we equip ourselves to cause death. Jezebel is far removed
from – and would remove us far from – our Lord who says “I give you a new
commandment, that you love one another…just as I have loved you.” (John 13:34) That’s where life is – in
agape love.
My family is wrestling with a kind of Jezebel right
now. Her name is amyotrophic lateral
sclerosis. ALS. Her torment comes at random, and in and of itself, is purposeless.
I spent Thursday afternoon through yesterday
afternoon in the company of my dad who is in the short rows with ALS. It pained
me to watch him struggle against gravity, trying to communicate by typing, but
having only a tiny remnant of strength in his right arm. It pains me even more to
think of him sitting in that nursing home room mostly alone and unstimulated,
because his mind is still as sharp as ever. ALS has made dad’s body kind of
like Elijah’s cave. Dad didn’t escape
to that cave, but there is an elemental struggle within and before him, and God
is in the midst of it. This weekend was the first time Dad made it clear that
he’s ready to die, ready to move higher up the mountain, ready to experience
whatever is next for one who is loved and claimed by God.
Many of you have experienced this kind
of thing already, and I have accompanied some of you as you did. But I’ve not
walked this particular road with someone to whom I am as close as I am to Dad. The
last 48 hours were full of tears and grief. But they were also full of unanticipated
and unparalleled intimacy, honesty, gratitude, and even joy. ALS weakens a
human body into death, but in the crucible of that weakness, we were
experiencing, as never before, the incredible strength of love.
One fundamental reason for living
together in communities of faith, or family, or simply proximity, is to share each
other’s burdens and joys. God sends Elijah back to Damascus, back to the
Israelite community. And there the prophet finds his strength and his faith renewed
so that he can face Jezebel with confidence.
As a particular congregation, we are
called to share each other’s burdens and joys, so that we might witness to the
way in which we’re also called to share the burdens and joys of the wider
communities around us. We do not exist for our own sake. As the body of Christ,
we are created and called to live over against every Jezebel we face,
thoughtfully and prayerfully, yes, but more importantly, with the confident,
non-violent, and relentlessly active love of Jesus.
That’s how God uses us to help transform what may
feel like the worst of times into at least better
times.
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