Jesu Juva
1 Kings 19:1-8
August 8, 2021
Proper 14B
Dear saints of our Savior~
Fight or flight. In sudden situations of extreme stress, our brains are pre-programmed for fight or flight. The so-called fight-or-flight response is a basic human instinct—a reflexive reaction. When you come face-to-face with the attacker—the shooter—the grizzly bear—you will either fight or flee. And there’s really no predicting who will do what. Sometimes it’s the grandmas who fight and it’s the pro wrestlers who flee.
But what happens when neither fight nor flight is an option? What happens when you’ve fought and fought and fled and fled, and nothing more is left? Today’s Old Testament reading gives us a third option—a better option. It’s not an option that comes naturally. It’s not pre-programmed or hardwired into us. It’s an overlooked option: Not fight, not flight, but faith.
The man at the center of all this was the prophet Elijah. Elijah fought. He was a fighter. Elijah fought hundreds of false prophets who were devoted to the idols Baal and Asherah. You remember the big showdown at Mount Carmel don’t you? There would be one bull for Baal and one bull for the Lord, each on an altar with wood, but no fire. Baal’s 450 prophets would call down fire in the name of Baal; Elijah would do the same in the name of the Lord. It was the prophetic pay-per-view smack-down of the century—Elijah versus the 450 prophets of Baal. The prophets of Baal danced and prayed and cut themselves while Elijah taunted them from the sidelines. When nothing happened, Elijah suggested that Baal must be sleeping or was perhaps on the toilet.
Then it was Elijah’s turn. He put the bull on the altar with the wood, soaked everything down with water three times over, and prayed a prayer that was simple, short and sweet. And fire from heaven consumed the bull, the wood, the altar and everything around it. And all the prophets of Baal were rounded up and killed. Elijah fought and Elijah won—with the unmistakable help of the Lord.
But today’s reading shows how that victory quickly turned to defeat. The same Elijah who fought now had to flee. You see, Queen Jezebel heard what happened and she wasn’t amused. She swore that what happened to the prophets of Baal would now happen to Elijah—and in less than 24 hours. When an evil, vengeful queen is seeking to kill you, fighting is futile. So Elijah fled. He set his sights on Mount Horeb—better known to us as Mount Sinai—where he hoped to get a clearer Word from the Lord. It was an Exodus in reverse: fleeing the Promised Land get back to Mount Sinai—a journey that would take, not surprisingly, forty days and forty nights.
But you can only fight and flee for so long. And just a day into his journey, Elijah hit the wall. He was done. He gave up. He sat down beneath a broom tree and prayed that he might die. “It’s enough, O Lord,” he prayed, “take my life for I am no better than my fathers.” There’s actually a lot of truth in that. Elijah was no better than his fathers and neither are we. Can you say that about yourself? Can you admit the worst about yourself? Can you, like St. Paul, go so far as to call yourself as the “chief of sinners?”
For all of us there is an ongoing tension between outward success and the inner, ongoing failure we call “sin.” For Elijah, it would have been easy to focus on the outward success of his ministry—how he spoke truth to power, how he raised the widow’s son at Zarephath, how he literally stuck it to the prophets of Baal at Mt. Carmel—all of which would look great on anyone’s religious resume. We, too, pride ourselves on our outward success—success that gets measured in a variety of ways: a good income, good children, good grades, good church attendance, good friends, good house, good car, good toys. With these things we can say to the world, “I am successful.”
Those good things can be blessings; but those blessings must never be used disguise our sin. For no matter how many great things we’ve done, or how many battles we’ve won, we (like Elijah) are no better than our fathers and mothers. We are children of God, it’s true. But it’s also true that we are poor, miserable sinners, who deserve temporal and eternal punishment. Our sin—including the sins of faithlessness, hopelessness, and despair—is always before us.
That hard truth was sinking in for Elijah as he lay down beneath the broom tree. I think you’ve probably been there too, beneath the broom tree. You know what it’s like. You’ve got no fight left in you. You’ve got no flight left in you. All you can see with clarity is your sin and how terribly messed up your life really is. Don’t pray to die like Elijah did. What needs to die are our expectations and our plans. Our agendas, our idolatries, need to die. All the trappings of success from which we derive our self-worth, all those things that interfere with our worship, our prayers and praise—all that sin in us needs to die. So repent.
It’s not very pleasant beneath the broom tree with Elijah. So let me tell you about a better place, beneath a better tree. When fighting and fleeing wear you down to despair—don’t sit under the broom tree. But park yourself beneath a different tree—the tree on which Jesus was made to bear the curse of your sin. Don’t look inward for strength and solutions; but look upward as you sit beneath the tree of the cross. There you see love in action. There the blood that flows is all for you. There in the Savior’s wide embrace is compassion that extends for all eternity. That tree of Jesus—that cross of the Christ—declares that you are forgiven and loved. It shows He will never forsake you in your time of despair. He will never abandon you beneath the broom tree.
Beneath the broom tree is where the Lord comes to meet us. Elijah had given up and prayed to die. But the Angel of the Lord came to this discouraged, distressed man with a message: Arise and eat. Those are words of grace, words of invitation, gospel words. Eat. Be strengthened and nourished. And at Elijah’s
Today the Lord comes here to all of us who know what it’s like to give up beneath the broom tree. “Arise and eat,” He says, “for the journey is too much for you.” He’s talking to you. Arise and eat because you can’t do it on your own. Listen to those words. Get up and eat this bread from heaven given for you. Get up and drink this heavenly wine poured out for you. Without these words and without this food, you can’t do it. You can’t run the race that is set before you. You can’t continue fighting and fleeing. But with the promises of God in your ears—with this food from heaven—you receive faith, forgiveness for sin, and life that lasts forever. Jesus will raise you up on the last day.
On that night in the garden when Jesus was betrayed, do you remember what the disciples did? They fought. And then they all fled—fled away into the darkness. But Jesus did not fight. He did not flee; but freely gave up His life in exchange for yours. Your sins were all laid upon Him. He “gave Himself up for you, [as] a fragrant offering and sacrifice to God.”
All the blessings that Jesus won for you at His cross come flowing into your life, here and now. The Lord provided Elijah with bread and water to give him the faith to go on. But for you there’s so much more than bread and water. From this altar is given the body and blood of Jesus, once poured out for your sins and your forgiveness. This is the food and drink that gives everlasting life. This food gives you the strength to reach your eternal home with Jesus Christ.
This journey through life’s wilderness is too much for you. Don’t go it alone. You won’t make it. You can’t. You need the strength of Jesus in you. This is the place where that strength is given to you. Sin and death are coming after you like angry Queen Jezebel was going after Elijah. But don’t fear. Don’t fight. Don’t flee. Have faith. Trust the promises of Jesus. He is the bread of life—the living bread that came down from heaven. And He will raise you up on the last day.
In the name of the Father and of the Son and of the Holy Spirit. Amen.
No comments:
Post a Comment