When I’m low I often think about the prophet Elijah. Specifically, how he lived for three years on the run while drought and famine plagued the land, then how he confronted King Ahab and challenged 450 Prophets of Baal to a public contest on Mount Carmel. There, in front of a crowd of witnesses, Elijah’s faith was publicly validated with literal fire from heaven, and then he prayed for the drought to end…which it did, and then he was personally granted the strength to outrun the King’s chariot. Can you imagine how being Elijah in 1 Kings 18 must have felt? Empowered? Validated? Fearless?

Reason dictates that we’ll be stronger, more faithful, more committed after God acts in our lives. It’s only logical. But that was not the case for Elijah here and it’s not always the case for me… In 1 Kings 19, immediately after this public victory, Elijah learns that the Queen is still seeking his death… Then he walks out into the wilderness, sits under a tree, and prays to die.

Then he went on alone into the wilderness, traveling all day. He sat down under a solitary broom tree and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died.”

1st Kings 19: 4, NLT

When I read this I think, ‘How very human of him‘. Elijah is deflated rather than elated, after the high comes the low.

In another miracle, an angel appears before Elijah and provides him with food to make the 40 day journey to Mount Sinai. There, God repeatedly asks him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Do you ever feel this way? I do. I know how God has worked in my life. I’m aware of the triumphs. Yet, instead of abounding in faith as I should…I feel low, sorrowful, overwhelmed by the magnitude of the world’s troubles and by the ongoing troubles in my own life. I know how God overcame the obstacles in my path and brought things together for the good. Yet my faith is often weak. I get lost in my fear, grief, and anxiety; beset by my personal troubles and by the world’s troubles like climate change, wars and human suffering, injustice and wealth inequality, the spread of hatred and societal division. I often find myself asking, “What are you doing here, Charles? Why are you low?” I know better, so why don’t I believe better? Why isn’t my faith buoyed? Why am I not stronger? Why am I so weak? After all, God didn’t ask me to save the world – I can’t even save myself – God just told me to have faith.

Then Jesus said to the disciples, “Have faith in God. I tell you the truth, you can say to this mountain, ‘May you be lifted up and thrown into the sea,’ and it will happen. But you must really believe it will happen and have no doubt in your heart. I tell you, you can pray for anything, and if you believe that you’ve received it, it will be yours.

Mark 11: 22-24, NLT

On Mount Sinai, Elijah shelters in a cave until he is instructed, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for the Lord is about to pass by.” First a windstorm comes but God is not in it. Second an earthquake comes but God is not in it. Third a fire comes but God is not in it. Finally, there is a still small voice and God is there. This Lent I’m practicing a spiritual discipline of waiting… In the midst of my lows, it’s easy to focus on the windstorms of troubling news, the earthquakes of personal loss, and the fires of immediate crisis… But God is not there. I’m holding on for the discernment and disciple to wait for the quiet and listen for God.

I find it encouraging that that still soft voice does not question Elijah’s lack of faith or chide him by reminding him of the recent victory, but instead reassures Elijah that he isn’t alone in his faith and directs him to recruit others (Elisha, Hazael, Jehu) to help him. In response to Elijah’s vulnerability God addresses the prophet’s concerns with instructions that are concrete and specific. God takes Elijah’s low point seriously.

There are good things happening here with Mennonite Central Committee in Cambodia. I can see God’s hand in them. I know it…but, sometimes, I’m not feeling it. Instead I’m low as I follow the news of troubles and war, the seemingly endless downward spiral of politics, feel the grief and sorrow of personal loss, worry about the details, and fret about the future. I’m praying for the discipline and discernment to wait through the windstorm, earthquake, and fire until I come to the calm where I can hear that still small voice.