Picture the prophet Elijah, just after calling fire down from heaven in a magnificent display of Yahweh’s supremacy, a great and terrifying show of power that prompts the people to worship the Lord as God and seize the prophets of Baal to slaughter. Picture a man of God whose faith seems to move mountains. Triumphant? Hopeful? Courageous? Possibly. But after hearing Jezebel’s threat to kill him, Elijah’s faith seems to vanish. 1 Kings 19:3 records, “Then he was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life.”
Elijah’s sudden turn from bold faith to desperate fear reveals the forgetful, fickle bent of our hearts. Despite seeing God’s faithfulness on full display, Elijah―in a very human way―doubts that God will protect his life. He acts in fear. He doubts God’s character.
Yet he knows God to be sovereign. He knows God’s power and might, and he trusts that God cares about His own glory enough to work a magnificent demonstration of fire before Israel. What Elijah likely doubts is that God cares for him as a person. He knows that God works for His own glory, but does He really care about His servants beyond their usefulness for His purposes? Elijah’s fear arises not primarily out of doubting God’s power, but His love―His personal, individual love.
We are prone to doubting either God’s love or sovereignty. Consider Job, who never doubted the sovereignty of God but said that He “mocks at the calamity of the innocent” (Job 9:23). Or Asaph in Psalm 73, who questioned the goodness of God upon seeing the prosperity of the wicked. In Lamentations, the suffering of Israel does not primarily prompt questions about God’s sovereignty, for the writer recognizes that “the LORD has afflicted her for the multitude of her transgressions” (Lam. 1:5). Rather, reassurance of His compassion brings comfort, “for he does not afflict from his heart or grieve the children of men” (Lam. 3:33).
And so God responds to Elijah in tenderness, demonstrating the sufficiency of His grace, the abundance of His mercy, the steadfastness of His love. God meets him in his doubt, anguish, and despair. He brings food and water to His servant, tending to his physical needs as if to show His care for Elijah as a holistic person, both body and soul. The Lord shows that He is not only sufficient to use Elijah for His glory, but sufficient for Elijah himself. He cares about us not merely as servants necessary for accomplishing His purposes, but as children whom He loves and provides for. God genuinely, truly loves you, not what you do for Him.
In fact, God makes His goodness known to us in working for us. “For even the Son of Man came not to be served but to serve, and to give his life as a ransom for many” (Mark 10:45). God incarnate stepped down from heaven in the greatest act of humility and love we could ever know. In the life, death, and resurrection of Jesus Christ, God provided the righteousness, the sacrifice, and the redemption that we could never provide ourselves. He is the ultimate provider. As Elijah is reliant on the Lord’s gracious provision of food and water―life itself―so we are reliant on Christ for the provision of His body and blood, granting us freedom from death and the hope of life eternal in Him.
In the striking, perhaps surprising words of Jesus, God Himself is “gentle and lowly in heart” (Matt. 11:29). Jesus exemplified humility for us as He “emptied himself, by taking the form of a servant, being born in the likeness of men. And being found in human form, he humbled himself by becoming obedient to the point of death, even death on a cross” (Phil. 2:7-8).
This is where we find God. This is how we draw near to Yahweh. When Elijah stands on Mount Horeb, the Lord does not make Himself known in a “great and strong wind” or in an earthquake, or in a fire. Rather, the Lord speaks to Elijah in “the sound of a low whisper” (1 Kings 19:12). An alternate translation is “a sound, a thin silence.” Why? Not because the wind, an earthquake, and a fire are inaccurate descriptors of God: Jesus likens the work of the Spirit in regeneration to the wind (John 3:8); earthquakes often underline the weight of God’s holiness and might; our holy God is described as a “consuming fire” (Heb. 12:29). Rather, God chooses to reveal Himself to Elijah in a sound of silence, highlighting in this moment His tender nearness.
God draws him out with a question: “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:9, 13). It reminds me of His question to Adam in the garden of Eden: “Where are you?” (Gen. 3:9). Of course God knows the answer to both questions already. He knows the thoughts and worries of Elijah just as surely as He knows Adam’s location in the garden. But here we see the gentle character of our God as He coaxes, draws out, brings Himself near. He invites us to come to Him, wearied though we may be, and find a Father who will listen to our troubles, bind our wounds, and comfort our souls. He wants more than facts; He wants us.
We must be careful not to pit the attributes of God against each other. He is love, and He is holiness. He is great is in His gentleness; He is supreme is in His compassion; He is glorious in His goodness and good in His glory. In the Lord’s response to Elijah, we begin to understand the beauty of His love, a holy yet relational love, a love that fulfills His constant promise to be near His people. What a glorious grace!