Elijah: Zarephath! What a lovely town! It’s always good to come to Zarephath. A man wants to feel welcomed, and I find that here. Out there, in some of the towns and villages of Israel, I have to watch my back. King Ahab’s agents are everywhere, and who knows what they will do? In some places they throw sharp stones. In other places they hurl sharp words, which hurt even more than the stones.
But Zarephath is a welcome haven. Here I can always stay with the widow Tivallah. She has a room, just for me, and hot meals and kind words. I look forward to a rest in the home of Tivallah. And not just for the food and the kind words; I love being around her son Shemiah. He’s a perfectly delightful child! So full of life, asking questions, climbing up on my lap, urging me to play games! That Shemiah is all boy. I wonder how he’s doing.
Why, you know, just a few weeks ago there was a crisis in Tivallah’s house, and it was the boy Shemiah who pointed the way out. Tivallah is not wealthy. In fact, she is dirt poor. Her husband died and left her with a little house and a lot of debt. So Tivallah was down to almost nothing, and was talking about how she and Shemiah would soon starve to death. It was awful, the things she said! Stuff about pulling back into her house to die. Garbage about not mattering to anybody.
I didn’t know how to help Tivallah. I tried to think of all the comforting things you say – you know, “It’ll be better tomorrow. Have faith and it’ll all work out. The Lord will provide. Don’t be anxious.” I tried to say some of that stuff, but it felt empty, even blasphemous. I didn’t know what to do.
But the boy – he pushed me where I needed to be pushed! Shemiah piped up and said, “Mr. Elijah, can’t you just pray and ask God for what we need? You’ve said that He will supply our every need. Why don’t we just pray and ask?”
Well, I have to tell you, at first I was put off by the nerve of that kid. Imagine, him telling me what to do! This little boy, not yet dry behind the ears, talking to Rev. Elijah about prayer! I figured he hadn’t even learned to say, “Now I lay me down to sleep”. But he wants to tell me how to pray.
However, he had me in a tough spot. I couldn’t very well ignore what he was asking. You can’t just brush people off when they want you to pray. And his mother was looking at me like, well, like a woman who was ready to give up on everything.
So I prayed. I prayed something like, “Lord, now you know and I know this isn’t possible. These people are in a mess. If it be your will – though I don’t imagine it is – if it be your will, feed them. Get them through this one, and then we can all get on to other things.” That’s about it. I don’t think my prayer will make it into anybody’s hymnbook. I didn’t have much faith – only a little.
But the boy – Shemiah – when I finished, his eyes were shining! He had felt something. He had heard something. And he turned to his mother and shouted out, “We’re going to be all right, Mom. We’re going to be all right. God will take care of us.” And then he ran over and hugged me, gave me the biggest little-boy embrace you can imagine.
I felt like the lowest of the low. A child’s faith, so great. And mine, so small. Tivallah said nothing. Just went and made me a little cake with the last of her meal and oil, and kept quiet.
Would you believe that that jar of meal and that jug of oil never emptied? Never did run dry? Would you believe that I stayed there many days, and we never lacked for food? It was astounding! Beyond belief! But there it was; I couldn’t deny it.
So you can imagine that when I come back to Zarephath, I am always delighted to see young Shemiah. He restores my faith and builds up my hope. I wonder how they are doing – Tivallah with her anxieties, and her son with his bright, childlike faith.
Oh, there’s Tivallah now. God’s peace, Tivallah!
Tivallah: What do you have against me, Elijah? Why have you done this to me? Are you punishing me?
Elijah: What? What are you talking about? I have nothing against you. I care about you, Tivallah. Punishing you? What are you talking about?
Tivallah: My son is dying, and it’s because of you. Or because of me. I’m not sure which. But Shemiah is dying. He can’t breathe. And you don’t care. You just want what you want. You want to hurt me.
Elijah: Hurt you? That’s the farthest thing from my mind. I do not want to hurt you. And I have done nothing to the boy. What is happening to Shemiah? Where is he?
Tivallah: He got very sick last night. He couldn’t breathe right. This morning he can hardly breathe at all. It’s awful. He’s dying. And you don’t care. You just want to show up my sin. I know. I know.
Elijah: Tivallah – oh, Tivallah. I – we – you – where is this coming from? Why are you so angry at me? I have nothing to do with this. I’ve tried to help you. I prayed for your meal and your oil, and didn’t they come? I’ve lifted you up to the Lord of Israel, and didn’t He bless? Where is this dark and desperate mood coming from, anyway? Where do you come off accusing me of anything?
But let me see the boy. Where is he? I want to see what’s going on with Shemiah.
Tivallah: He’s over here. I don’t think he can last much longer. Are you going to just finish him off, so that my sorrow will be complete?
Elijah: Shemiah! Shemiah! Can you hear me, boy? It’s Elijah. Your friend. Can you hear me? Shemiah!
Tivallah: It’s no use. He’s just about gone. Just leave him alone, why don’t you? In fact, why don’t you just leave both of us alone? Get out of our lives. Get out.
Elijah: Tivallah, I know you are hurting. I know this is a terrible time for you. But I am going to ask two things from you: first, I am going to ask you to remember the last time you were so desperate, and how God supported you then. Just remember the meal and the oil and the day you thought they would run out. You decided to risk everything that day. You used what little you had and fed me with it, and God supplied your need for many days after that. I want you to remember that, right now.
And then I am going to ask you to give me the boy for a little while. Just let me take him for a few minutes. I want to see what God might do. Can I just be alone with Shemiah for a few minutes?
Tivallah: You won’t hurt him? I know I’ve done wrong, but he doesn’t deserve this. Take it out on me if you want to, but please don’t hurt this child. All right. Whatever …
MOVE BOY TO PILLOWS
Elijah: Lord, I don’t understand. I don’t get it. You gave this widow life, and are you now going to take life away? You kept her and her son from starving. Did you do that only so that you could snatch away his life in an instant? Did you preserve them through many days of struggle, just so you could crush them like insects? I don’t get it, Lord. I don’t see the point.
But let me do what I have to do. I am supposed to pray, and pray I will. O Lord my God, let this child’s life come into him again.
Nothing? No change? If anything, he looks worse. What do I do now? I could go and tell Tivallah it’s no use. That will be tough. I could slip out the back door and just disappear. No, I guess not. What can I do? I don’t want to look useless. I guess I’ll try again.
O Lord my God, I am floundering here. I don’t know how to handle this. The child is dying, and look at this mess. The mother feels guilty. She thinks she’s done something that is going to send her to hell itself. She feels guilty, she’s full of shame, and she’s angry. She’s angry at me, Lord. What did I do? It’s not my fault. But right now I don’t look so good. It’ll be hard to keep my credibility if this child doesn’t make it. I need a big one today, Lord. I need a major miracle.
I brought the child to this room so I could buy some time and figure out what to say to Tivallah. I don’t have much to tell her. Let me see, what do we generally say at times like this? “He’s in a better place.” “He’s out of his pain now.” Hmph. I don’t know that I believe that myself. I doubt I can make her believe it.
What else? “He’s at peace now.” That’s true, but it doesn’t speak to her pain. She’s not at peace. She thinks she’s to blame. She thinks her sin is being punished. She thinks it’s about her. Lord, I can’t leave her thinking she’s responsible for the child’s death. She would never get over that.
And besides, my prophet career would be shot. Nobody would ever listen to me again. Not that they do very much now. But with Ahab on my back and hard feelings in Zarephath, I doubt I could get more than a little bitsy congregation to listen to me prophesy. What in the world is going to get me out of this mess?
Well, might as well try again. Nothing to lose. Can’t be much worse than it is already.
O Lord my God, let this child’s life come into him again.
The silence is deafening. The emptiness in my heart fills me up. The darkness blinds me. I have reached rock bottom. I have nothing else to give. I can’t bring the boy back to life; let’s face it – I am no miracle worker. God has never done that kind of thing through me. Others, maybe, but I’m kind of one of the ordinary prophets. Nothing special. I can’t do this. I can’t.
And not only can I not give the boy his life, I can’t give this mother any courage. She’s always had this negative attitude about herself. She feels that everybody criticizes, nobody thinks much of her. When she was married, she was somebody’s wife, and that wasn’t much, but it was something. Then her husband died. So she became somebody’s mother, and that wasn’t a whole lot either, but it was something. She had standing in the community as Shemiah’s mother. Now if he dies, who is she then? Nobody. Nothing.
What can I do? I can’t seem to talk her out of this idea that she’s being punished. I can’t do it. I can’t give the boy life, I can’t give the mother hope. I’m no good. I am a fraud. I am empty. Empty. Empty as when I sat out by the Brook Cherith and wept for my hunger. Empty as that jar of meal, that jug of oil, when I first met the widow of Zarephath. Empty. My heart is empty.
Wait. Think now. The Brook Cherith. I was hungry, and lonely, and afraid. But ravens swept through the sky and brought me food. Great black birds, who would normally keep their distance and would feed only their own young – but bread would drop from their beaks, right at my feet. And meat, little desert animals, scraps that I could pick up. How did that happen? What kind of accident was that? Was it a coincidence? Was it good luck? Or was it more? My emptiness was filled, my hunger was satisfied, back then.
And the widow’s empty jar! It filled, over and over. I don’t know how, but I know God did it. Not I. Not the widow. Nobody but God. Filled to good measure, pressed down, and extra. And the jug of oil. That too filled up. Over and over it filled up. God seems to want to give life. God does give life. And if He will save the life of a lonely and insecure prophet; if He will save the life of a depressed and complaining widow; how much more is He going to save the life of an innocent child, a child pure in faith?
Oh, my God, I am ashamed. I am ashamed for myself. I am the professional prophet, I know the Scriptures backwards and forwards. But I have not believed you. I repent of my sin. I lay open my faithless heart. I want to be yours. I want to be available to you. It’s not about me, Lord, is it? It’s not about what anybody thinks of me or about what kind of following I’ll have. It’s all about what you think of me and most of all it’s all about what you want to do in us, isn’t it? Yes. Oh yes. I see. I see.
Lord, I trust in You. Let your perfect will be done. Not my will, but yours be done. O Lord my God, let this child’s life come into him again.
Shemiah: I can see. I can breathe. I feel good. Where’s my mom?
Elijah: God be praised! The Lord of Israel is the giver of life! Let His name be praised! Tivallah! Tivallah! Your son is alive. God has raised him up. Your son is alive! Hallelujah!
Tivallah: Oh, oh! He is?! He’s alive?! He’s going to be all right?! Oh thank you. Thank you, Elijah. I’m sorry I doubted you. Thank you, Elijah.
Elijah: Well, but, Tivallah – it’s not about me. I didn’t really do anything. I just did some remembering, that’s all. It’s not about me. So who do you really want to thank?
Tivallah: You’re right, Elijah. The God of Israel, blessed be His name. He is the giver of life. You spoke His truth, but it was His truth, not your wisdom. I see. I see. And more than that, Elijah, I see that God loves me and God loves my child. God loves us. I don’t think anything will ever take that away from us again. God loves me. God loves my child. God loves us.
Pastor (out of character): Now who got revived? In this scene, just who got revived, and why and how?
The child got revived, of course. The child was brought back to life. How and why? Because his mother got upset and demanded that somebody do something? Not really. Because the prophet didn’t want to lose face and wanted to be politically secure? Not on your life. The child got revived because the people around him worked through their own stuff and focused on what really mattered. The child was revived because those around him quit looking at what they wanted and thought instead about what somebody else needed and about what God wanted to do. The child was revived when the prophet and the widow took their spiritual responsibility seriously, forgot about themselves and prayed. That’s how the child got revived.
The widow of Zarephath got revived, too. She had been a chronic complainer. Nothing was ever any good. Negativity permeated her very being. She had once before decided that she would just fold up and die from starvation. And even when that fate was held off by God’s gift of an unending supply of food, she persisted in negativity. My son is dying and it’s all about me. You’re trying to punish me, you’re trying to hold me up for ridicule; me, me, me. This sickness – it’s not what was happening to her son. It was more about who she was; and she hated herself. But when God intervened in her life, and gave new breath to her child, He took away every ground for complaint, every reason to doubt, every shred of guilt. He looked beyond her faults and saw her need. And she got revived. Praise took the place of complaint on her lips. Gratitude filled the void where only soul-emptiness had been. Light shone into the dark and desolate places in her soul. Who got revived? The widow got revived; she began to deal with years and years of self-hatred, because the goodness of God just loved it right out of her.
Did anybody else get revived? The child did. His mother did. And, praise God, even the prophet got revived. The toughest nut to crack. The hardest case of all. The professional Christian. The long-time churchgoer. The church member who has been to services all his life, and they’re all the same. The deacon who has trudged to many a hospital bedside and has half-heartedly said, “Hope you get better”, but has walked out saying, “Won’t be long now”. The Sunday School teacher who has mentioned that the Lord used to work miracles, back in Biblical times, but, well, you don’t expect that now. The pastor who has preached 600 sermons at Takoma Park Baptist Church and faintly hopes that some of them made a little difference. They all got revived! They all got renewed! How and why?
Because they were led to remember the goodness of God in the past and because they were given a fresh experience of His grace! Because they were led out of the cynicism that says, “I’ve seen it all” into the faith that says, “You haven’t seen anything yet.” Because they were fed on the word of God and were replenished. Because even the best of us come upon the worst of times, and must be given hope. Because every now and again, we have to see that it’s not about our work, not about our words, not about our wisdom, but it’s all about what God is doing.
Who got revived? They did, the child, the widow, the prophet. Who got revived? Some of us did. I did. Did you?
