We do so much as humans to maintain ourselves. Like Elijah, we’ve stood in the darkness and named the truth. We are brave when it feels like it costs us everything. We’ve told the truth to people who couldn’t hold it. We survived the fire, the fight, the loneliness…
But, we become so tired…
We walk for days and nights in silence,
We collapse under our own metaphorical trees and whisper that we’ve “had enough”.
We have all looked at our bodies- shaking, sore, grieving and have felt like we couldn’t keep going.
And instead of fixing us, God sends rest. He doesn’t demand more. He doesn’t scold us for our breaking. He says “get up, keep going, for this journey is too much for you”.
Sometimes, our weeks are like this, we rely on others holding space and praise from strangers.
But, it’s been God sending bread and water in unexpected places.
When Elijah walks into the cave; not to be heroic but to hide, God asks him softly (not angrily), “what are you doing here Elijah?” I don’t think God meant the cave, He means “what are you doing in this fear?” “ In this loneliness?” “In this story that says you're the only one left?”
And Elijah spills everything, “they’ve torn everything down. I’m the only one left and now they’re trying to kill me too.”
Friends, I see myself in this. Everyone left, no one saved me but God. I loved and it didn’t matter. I was scared I wouldn’t make it.
And then God says “come closer”.
But when Elijah does, God isn’t in the fire nor in the earthquake. He’s in the still small voice. A whisper… A breath. A quiet presence that says “I’m here, I’ve been here, and you are not alone.”
That’s the moment.
The whisper- not dramatic, not loud but real.
And when God says “go back, your journey is not over. You’re not the only one. There are thousands who still believe; who still love.”
This is found everywhere- from AA meetings, to churches, to concert halls, to fellowships.
We are not the only ones left friends. We are not alone.