My brother Jeremy picked me up at the airport a couple of weeks ago when I flew to Pittsburgh. He isn’t from Pittsburgh, though, he’s from Alaska. So we relied on Mapquest to get from the airport to the seminary. Pittsburgh is the hardest city to drive in I know. Well, they tell me Boston is worse, but since I’ve never tried it I’ll leave Pittsburgh on top of the list. It was founded around 300 years ago between two rivers and uncounted hills, and all the freeways have to fit around and through this tangle. We did pretty well until we got to the Allegheny River where we knew there were 3 exits, marked A, B, and C. Well, ordinarily you would think that A would come first, B second, and C last. We had to get off on C, so we knew we had time. Except that’s not how it happened. The freeway suddenly split into 3 forks and we wound up going NW along the Allegheny instead of E. At this point we did not have a clue. So Jer kept driving while I fumbled with the map, and we eventually got off, and with not more than 2 or 3 wrong turns eventually got headed back for the river where we could turn east at last, except the exit is labeled north and south, rather than east and west, and sure enough we wound up on the wrong side of the river heading south. A little more blind navigating and we got on US 28 heading E (I mean N) where at last I knew where I was, and you know what I said? I said “It’s a miracle.”
Of course I know it wasn’t a miracle. Or - maybe it was. It was the kind of miracle you get when you finally stop fumbling around in the dark and actually read the instructions. It’s amazing how often that works. Of course we did look at the Mapquest instructions - but that’s not the same as understanding the city’s layout and checking the map for details and well, you get the idea. Going by the geographical equivalent of a sound bite is not the same as being really prepared.
But unfortunately, most of us approach our Christianity in that way. We pick up bits and pieces which serve us pretty well for ordinary times, but when we hit the ruts and landslides and detours that inevitably come our way, we’re lost. There’s nothing deeper to turn to, nothing constant and solid that will keep us steady when disaster strikes.
And disaster had certainly struck when we arrive at this point in the prophet Elijah’s life. You may recall from last week’s sermon that the Israel was ruled by king Ahab, whom the Bible describes as one who “did more evil in the eyes of the Lord than anyone before him.” Which was saying a lot, considering his predecessors. And he was encouraged in his idolatry by his wife Jezebel, a Phoenician princess from Sidonia devoted to the worship of the fertility God Ba’al.
And so the Lord told Elijah to give King Ahab an ultimatum: shape up or else. Scripture doesn’t tell us that God spoke to Elijah - not this time - but we do know that Elijah never did anything unless the Lord had spoken. So we can be pretty sure that he wouldn’t take a risk like this on his own. Because kings don’t like to be threatened.
At any rate the threat - which turned out to be a promise - was that it wouldn’t rain in Israel for 3 years. And immediately after that, God told Elijah to disappear into the Kerith Ravine where Ahab couldn’t find him. Sometimes retreating is the right thing to do. At any rate, God provided food, and there was water in the nearby brook. But eventually even that stream dried up. And that is where we come in.
God tells Elijah to go to Zarephath, where there was a widow who would supply Elijah with food and lodging. Now, Zarephath was a little town just south of the city of Sidon, where Queen Jezebel was from. So immediately we know that this widow is, more likely than not, a worshiper of Ba’al rather than of YHWH, Elijah’s God. That’s confirmed by the way she later speaks to Elijah, saying: “As the LORD your God lives.” This isn’t her God, you see. But she has clearly heard something about Elijah’s God. I suspect practically everyone in Israel has heard of Elijah’s God, what with the drought, and probably the king’s soldiers had been out looking for this wild man to threaten him into withdrawing the curse that was on the land.
At any rate, when Elijah arrives at Zarephath, he sees a poor woman gathering sticks outside the town gate. And he asks her for a drink of water. If you know your Hebrew literature, you would know that this is a clue. When Abraham sends his servant to find a wife for his son Isaac, Rebekah brings the servant a drink, and when Moses runs away from Egypt, the daughters of Jethro give him water. This is called a type-scene. Bringing a stranger water is a sign of a godly person. But this poor woman is not yet what we would call a woman of faith. How could she be? Probably all she knows about Elijah’s God is that he’s duking it out with Queen Jezebel’s god, who according to her world view was responsible for providing rain, and the little people are getting trampled in the fight.
And has she been trampled. A widow in Israel would be about as poor as you could get. There was no such thing as “a job” the way we think of it. Unless she had relatives who were willing to take her in - especially difficult in a drought when nobody has enough food - the only choices she had were to sell herself or her son either into slavery or prostitution, or to starve to death. And with the drought, nobody would be buying slaves, either. And when Elijah came along she was down to the very last crumb of resources.
Water she can provide. Quietly, humbly, the widow lays down her bundle of sticks, which she had been gathering to cook her last meal, and goes to comply with Elijah’s request. And then he adds another one. He asks her for something over and above the usual. He asks for a piece of bread.
Can you imagine her feelings? As we find out in just the next verse, she doesn’t have any bread. She and her son - we never find out how old he is, but probably not very or he’d be helping her with the wood - are going to die soon. They will share a small cake made of flour and water and oil, cooking it on the wood she is collecting, and then they will lie down and grow weaker and weaker until finally they take their last breath. Do you suppose she would give the larger piece to her son, so that he would live just that little bit longer? Or perhaps the woman would eat the larger piece herself, so that she would be with him when he died. A hard choice, isn’t it.
And here is this complete stranger proposing that she give it to him instead! What a nerve! I can see her turning and facing him and slowly with great clarity spelling out in painful detail exactly what the fate is that awaits her and her son. And to her no doubt complete astonishment Elijah says, “Do not be afraid.”
This is how angels respond, remember, whenever they appear and people fall flat on their faces with awe and disbelief. “Do not be afraid.” But I’ll bet the widow doesn’t know that this is a clue that she is dealing with a messenger from God. I’ll bet she doesn’t even realize yet that this is Elijah, the prophet who is responsible for the drought and the famine. She knows he’s a Hebrew, of course, probably from his clothes and his accent, but that this is the very man who brought this disaster down upon Israel? I don’t think so.
“Do not be afraid.” Hah. And then this impertinent stranger says, “so what if you and your son are about to die, bring something for me to eat first.” Well, that’s not exactly what Elijah says. But he does ask her to feed him first, and then reassures her with a promise which is, you’ve got to admit, pretty hard to swallow. You should excuse the expression. Elijah tells her, “Thus says the LORD the God of Israel: The jar of meal will not be emptied and the jug of oil will not fail until the day that the LORD sends rain on the earth." I wonder how long the widow stared at him in disbelief before she turned away to do as he asked her. But she went.
Did she guess that this man had the authority to speak for God? Did she guess that this was Elijah, the notorious prophet? I don’t know. But she’s down to her last crumb and if all this stranger has to offer is a promise, well, that’s more than she had yesterday. And what difference does it make, after all, one day more or less for her and her son, if the promise is just another false hope. So she goes and bakes Elijah a cake. And when she goes back to make one for herself and her son, lo and behold! There’s just as much flour and oil as there was before! So she begins to believe.
How often do we wait to be at the end of our rope before we decide to take God at his word? How often do we wait until we’re at the end of our rope before we even decide to find out what his word says? We know a little about God, a little about Jesus Christ, a little about what they ask of us. And we live our lives, more or less, according to the little we know. We know we’re supposed to love our neighbor, to give to the poor, not to lie or steal or strike out in anger. But do we know Jesus well enough to trust when the going gets hard? Do we know God well enough to believe that the wisdom and guidance and provision we are looking for is already waiting for us in the word he has given? Do we know God well enough to choose his ways instead of the world’s ways, when the choice before us may mean at least inconvenience or ridicule, and at the worst danger or death?
Our faith is only as great as our knowledge. How can we believe in a promise we haven’t heard? How can we trust a Savior whom we haven’t so far asked him to save us from anything? The widow of Zarephath probably knew little about the Hebrew God, and even less about Elijah. Why should she trust him? In fact, why should she believe that Elijah’s God - as powerful as it looked like he was, given the drought, would care enough about her to feed her? It did not compute. Ba’al only came through when you made the proper sacrifices, and sometimes not even then, as we found out last week. Gods don’t notice little people like her and her son, any more than elephants notice ants.
So it had to be difficult for this poor woman to believe that the miraculous provision wouldn’t be taken away, capriciously and without warning. And in the passage that follows the one we just read, we see her worst fears realized. Her son gets sick; “his illness was so severe that there was no breath left in him.” [1Ki 17:17] And immediately her new and shaky faith falls flat. “She then said to Elijah, "What have you against me, O man of God? You have come to me to bring my sin to remembrance, and to cause the death of my son!" [1Ki 17:18] It doesn’t seem fair, does it. She’s done everything Elijah asked of her. I expect she had been asking questions about this strange God, and learning a little about the One who hears the cries of his people and delivers them. And so the widow wasn’t braced for this new blow. She was ready to die when Elijah showed up, but not any more. Hope had returned, and just when she was beginning to believe that life would be good from now on, the rug gets pulled out from under her. Didn’t God promise to make our paths straight [Pro 3:6] if we follow him? And in her anger and disappointment she turns upon Elijah.
I remember when I first became a Christian; it’s a long story, so I won’t tell the whole thing, but the first thing that happened after I started thinking about saying “Yes” to God was that the man I was in love with sold his business and left town. I was really mad at God. Nearly as mad as Elijah’s widow was. Love isn’t life and death, but sometimes It can feel that way. I accused God of false advertising. "Bait and switch!" I yelled. So I can really understand the woman’s feelings.
So did Elijah, I think. At any rate, he doesn’t return the widow’s anger in kind. Instead, he takes her son and calls on God to restore the boy’s life and health. And at this point the last of her suspicion and doubt disappear. “And the woman said to Elijah, "Now I know that you are a man of God, and that the word of the LORD in your mouth is truth." [1Ki 17:24]
Elijah was God’s instrument for miracles, back in those days. He could command the rain to cease, promise the food would not run out, and a boy to live, and what he said went. But Elijah was only a vehicle for miracles as long as two conditions were met. First of all, he listened to God all the time. His entire life revolved around knowing God. And the second condition was to do what God asked. He went to Ahab and warned him of the coming drought. That was dangerous. He went to the Kerith Ravine and waited. That was boring. He got up and walked 100 miles to a pagan town for food and lodging. That was exhausting. He believed that a poor Phoenician widow would feed him. That was preposterous. But Elijah obeyed because he trusted the God who had called and commissioned him.
We often want miracles like that, too. But we have something Ahab and Elijah and the widow of Zarephath did not have. We have the record of miracles performed over and over again and reported to us by faithful witnesses. We have the record of God’s unfailing love and provision for his people. We know everything we need to know. Or we could, if we made the effort. We shouldn’t need any more miracles of the kind Elijah performed, any more than the Pharisees should have needed more signs when they challenged Jesus to prove that he was the Messiah. Instead we should take God at his word.
“Do not worry,” Jesus said, “saying, 'What will we eat?' or 'What will we drink?' or 'What will we wear?' For it is the Gentiles who strive for all these things; and indeed your heavenly Father knows that you need all these things. But strive first for the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be given to you as well. So do not worry about tomorrow, for tomorrow will bring worries of its own. Today's trouble is enough for today." [Mt 6:31 -34]
Does this mean that God will never bring grief and loss into our lives, or shortages, or crises? Of course not. But we are not to worry, because God knows not only what we think we need, but what he has in mind for our lives. In The Hiding Place, Corie Ten Boom’s account of her life in Holland under the Nazis, the women in the camp were horribly plagued by fleas. But her sister Betsy pointed out that, because of the fleas, the guards left them alone. Betsy was always aware of the greater things God was doing in the midst of the most incredible hardships. She did everything God asked of her, and even, you might say, performed miracles right in that camp as she brought light and hope to the caged women. And then she died, of tuberculosis, if I remember right. Does this negate God’s faithfulness? No, of course it doesn’t, because that’s not the end of Betsy’s story.
Do we know God well enough to believe that he cares for us even in the middle of our greatest trials and hardships? Do we know God well enough to believe that “all things work together for good for those who love God, who are called according to his purpose”? [Ro 8:28]
What is a miracle? It is God’s divine intervention in the world to bring things about according to his good will and purpose. Sometimes it is showy, sometimes it is subtle, almost invisible. The greatest miracle of all, though, is knowing that things will come out right in the end because of God’s love for us. It is knowing that if we trust and follow God, our lives will be filled with meaning and even beauty. Love never ends, and that is the greatest miracle of all. If we know God well enough to believe that, nothing else really matters.
