"Elijah's Roller Coaster Ride"

June 19, 2016
Sermon by Rev. Caela Simmons Wood
Sermon Text – 1 Kings 19: 1-15a

I love roller coasters. A lot. I love them a lot. I love the anticipation - not the standing in line part, but the feeling in the pit of your stomach as you slowly climb that first hill. I love - more than anything - that moment right before you go over the drop. I love the twists and turns, the little surprises, the inversions. I just love roller coasters.

I love them because they happen in a controlled environment. You know what I sometimes don't love as much? The roller coaster of life. Like last Sunday morning when I woke up, looking forward to worshiping with you all and thinking pleasant thoughts about an afternoon wedding for two dear people - only to turn on the news and find yet another story of violence. Or a year ago when I was sitting at home on the couch with my husband after a long day and suddenly saw the news of the act of terror in Charleston.

It’s astounding how things can change in an instant, isn't it? Up and down. And it's not always fun. And it's not always far away. The news can shock us and yank our emotions around, and so can our own lives. A near miss of a car accident while we’re driving. Bad news at work. Bad news from the doctor. Bad news from a friend. But also the good stuff! An unexpected bit of kindness. A lovely surprise. A hard-earned promotion or award. The rollercoaster of life cuts both ways.

Elijah knew this feeling of riding that rollercoaster of elation to terror; flying high on top of the world to exhaustion; extreme pride to insignificance. Elijah, who often comes off as so perfect he’s a mere caricature of a prophet, comes to us in today’s passage as a real, honest-to-goodness human being.

Elijah, the revered prophet – second to none, a model for Jesus, still-celebrated by Jews every Passover, too good to die like a normal human – ELIJAH THE GREAT! Elijah the Great, “troubler of Israel” bowed low. Running for his life. Curled up in the fetal position underneath a tree in the middle of nowhere. Begging for death. Alone.

Except – not alone. Not alone at all. He is tracked in his wilderness wanderings by angels. Jezebel’s messenger brings a warning of death – “I promise you, I will kill you dead just like you did to my people” – but the Angel of God brings warm cakes and a jug of cool clean water. Just as the Widow of Zarephath provided for Elijah when the brook that sustained him ran dry in the drought, now an Angel of God provides for him when he discovers that no amount of huffing-and-puffing bravado can keep him safe from reaping the consequences of his violent deeds.

He may have put on quite the show on Mount Carmel – commanding God’s fire and killing 450 prophets of Baal – but in the face of Jezebel’s fierce hatred he is left with no choice but to run. Alone on his two feet, running until he collapses in a fit of exhaustion. He speaks to God. He doesn’t ask for strength or protection. Instead, he simply asks to die.

“Is that you, troubler of Israel?” Cowered under a tree in the wilderness? Where are your strong words of challenge? Where is your righteous anger? What happened to your pyrotechnic show? And where is your God now? “Perhaps he is deep in thought, or busy, or traveling. Maybe he is sleeping and must be awakened.”

Except his God is not sleeping. Our God is not sleeping. Unlike Jezebel who was unable to track Elijah even with her ancient-day GPS, God has never lost sight of Elijah. Elijah who storms up to the King with great confidence – Elijah who puts on a show on top of Mount Carmel – Elijah who flees for his life – Elijah who begs for death. God sees Elijah at every single point on the roller coaster. God does not avert his eyes. God does not leave her beloved child.

I can’t pretend to know what God was thinking when Elijah rode that roller coaster of prophetic fame and shame. The scriptures don’t tell us how God felt about Elijah’s actions.

What they do tell us is this: how God behaved in the face of Elijah’s spectacular meltdown.

Behind the scenes, far from the crowds who gathered to see what tricks he would come up with next, it’s just Elijah and God out there in the wilderness. God enters the scene by sending an angel to feed Elijah. As every wise parent knows, sometimes you've got to remind your children to eat because none of us are at our best when our blood sugar gets low. So God, noticing that Elijah has hit rock bottom, does what any loving parent would do – God sends food.

Food doesn’t solve everything, of course, and what happens is that Elijah eats a tiny bit and then promptly goes right back to sleep. So God tries again. The angel gently wakes Elijah and asks him to eat and drink some more because he has a long journey ahead. Elijah eats and drinks. I wonder if he thought of the woman from Zarephath as he did so. Did he remember the other times God had provided for him in his distress?

Elijah is sustained by this act of lovingkindness and able to make his way to Mount Horeb (also known as Mount Sinai – you know, the one where Moses got the Ten Commandments?). There we see that God has not abandoned him. God’s word comes to him this time, saying “What are you doing here, Elijah?” What’s going on with you?

Elijah has an answer ready: “I just don’t understand where it all went wrong, God. I did everything you asked. It’s not an easy life, being a prophet, but I’ve done it. I was zealous. I did it all. And now I am running for my life because they want to kill me.”

The word of the Lord instructs Elijah to leave the safety of the cave and put himself out on the mountain because God is about to pass by. But before Elijah can even get out the door, a string of incredible events come – one right after the other. A rush of wind, an earthquake, a fire.

God – the same God that Elijah proclaimed in the fire on top of Mount Carmel – is not present in the wind, earthquake, or fire on top of Mount Horeb. Instead, after the dust settles, there is nothing left but a tiny whispering voice. Upon hearing it, Elijah girds himself in his mantle – his cloak – that symbol of prophetic authority. He wraps his face in his mantle and walks to the face of the cave to meet God.

It is one of the most singularly beautiful images in all of Biblical literature. This great prophet, beaten down, miles from home, without a human companion. He is exhausted. He is frightened. He has no idea what he’s supposed to be doing with himself. He has just survived a straight line wind that splits mountains, an earthquake, and a fire. And now we see him tentatively gathering his cloak around himself and walking to the mouth of the cave to meet his God.

And what does God say when the two of them finally meet face to face? Something small. Just this: “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Oh, the answers that might have run through his head! “Well, God, there was this angel that sent me here.” Or, “Remember Jezebel? She’s trying to kill me. Did you miss that part?” Or, “I wanted to see what you look like, God, so I came here to meet you.”

But Elijah says none of these things. Instead, he gives the same answer he gave a few moments ago. “I’ve been very zealous God. I’ve done everything I was called to do. And now they want to kill me.”

These are the words of a man who is no longer having fun on the roller coaster of life. These are the words of a man who doesn’t know his purpose anymore. These are the words of a man who is grasping at straws trying to figure out where he goes next.

I’m trusting we’ve all been there. You reach the end of your rope. You feel alone. You aren’t really even sure if there’s a reason to continue on doing the work you thought you had been called to do. You are so worn down with the bad news in the world and feel so small, so insignificant in the face of global forces that you just want to lie down forever, bury your head in the sand, and forget about it all.

Most of us wouldn't necessarily want to be memorialized in our moment of deepest despair, would we?

And yet, this is the story – of all the Elijah stories – that is so well loved by so many of us. Elijah at his lowest low. Why do we prefer this version of Elijah? Broken down, beat down, hopeless? It is just because we’re mean and like to watch others’ misfortunes?

Of course not.

We love it because it’s real. We love it because it’s true. We love it because it’s a reminder of so many good things about what it means to worship Elijah’s God.

It’s a reminder that we don’t have to be perfect to earn God’s love. It’s not about following all of the rules and doing exactly what God asks you to do. God’s love is unconditional.

It’s a reminder that even when we think we are utterly and truly alone, we aren’t. God is always present.

It’s a reminder that God is often not where we most expect to find the Holy. Instead, God is found in the stillness of a whisper.

It’s a reminder that even when we humans are literally thrown down to the ground, starving, exhausted, disgusting, beat up, wandering, aimless, purposeless messes – God will be with us. God can see even the nastiest versions of us and help us find a way to pick ourselves back up off the ground.

It’s a reminder that even the greatest of prophets have really really horrible days. The people that we admire? The people that seem to have it all? They don’t really. No one does. We are all on that wild roller coaster ride of life and God is present at every moment of the journey.

The reason this story is so fascinating is that it’s not just about Elijah. It’s about humanity. It’s about the very essence of being a human. Elijah is our everyman in this passage. He represents what all of us will experience at some point in our lives.

But the thing that makes this story more than just fascinating – the thing that makes this story powerful – is that it’s also about God. And it’s about what God can do through love.

Through the simple acts of accompanying us in our wanderings, looking upon us in our misery, offering us companions to feed and nourish us when we’ve lost all strength, and asking the right questions, God reminds us that God’s power is for real.

It’s not to be found on top of Mount Carmel in a nanny-nanny-boo-boo, my-God-is-bigger-than-your-God kind of way. Instead, God’s true power is the power of loving presence. The steadfast quiet and calm voice in the midst of life’s darkest nights. The one loving us back into existence. Again and again and again.