1 Kings 17:14 For thus says the Lord, the God of Israel, “The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty, until the day that the Lord sends rain upon the earth.” (KJV)
Solomon was dead and buried, and his son Rehoboam was king. The people came to Rehoboam and said, “Your father made us pay so much in taxes, and he turned some of us into slaves. Please, we don’t have any money left to feed our children or buy them shoes. Reduce the taxes! Free the slaves!”
But Rehoboam said, “No! My father was wiser than any one of you. That’s why you need a king, because you’re not very smart or clever or educated. So just trust your king to know what’s best.” And to teach the people a lesson about questioning royalty, Rehoboam doubled the taxes. But the people didn’t like being called stupid, and they didn’t like paying high taxes, and so they drove the king out of his golden palace and chased him all the way out of town. And they said, “Anyone who wants to follow that terrible king, you can leave too. Don’t let the gate hit you on the way out.”
Even though it doesn’t make very much sense, a lot of people followed King Rehoboam. And everyone else stayed and picked a different king. And the family of Jacob split in two, which was already sad enough. But things were only going to get worse, because neither king was very good. They made bad decisions and thought they were better, knew more, and were more important than other people. And they passed these ideas to their children, who became kings. And these ideas grew stronger and stronger and became worse and worse until a king named Ahab took the throne.
If you told Ahab he was doing something bad, he’d laugh in your face and say, “Guards, throw this person in prison.” And you’d be locked up, and then he’d probably kill you. And so Ahab did whatever he wanted whenever he wanted. And one day, he decided that the God they’d been following all these years had never done a very good job. He starved them and had them live in deserts, and then gave them a Promised Land that was already occupied.
“If this God of ours was as powerful as he says, things should be a lot easier for us. Why would we have wars or famines at all? So we’re going to worship a new god who is a little better at his job.” And Ahab found another god, and he built statues and temples fit for his new, powerful, mighty, warrior god. And he proclaimed, “This god will take care of us.”
And so God went looking for someone who would be brave enough to stand up to Ahab. And he found the man living on a small farm where he grew olives and kept sheep. His name was Elijah. And God said, “Elijah, go and tell Ahab he’s doing everything wrong. Tell him that there is no other God but me, because I am the only God. His imaginary god can’t protect him or provide rain or grow crops or really anything because he is not real. I am the creator of the earth. And so no one can tell my world what to do besides me. To prove it, I will start a famine, and his god won’t be able to stop it.”
This scared Elijah. Not only was God talking to him, God was telling him to go and correct Ahab, who was known for killing people who corrected him. But Elijah was brave and trusted God. Maybe Ahab was mean and powerful, but God was God. So off Elijah went.
When he arrived at Ahab’s castle, Elijah introduced himself and said, “Ahab, I have come to tell you that your god is not real. Our God, the God of the family of Jacob, has told me that there’s a famine just around the corner, and your pretend god won’t be able to stop it. You’ll see.”
And then Elijah did what any sensible person would do: he ran for his life. He ran out of the throne room and the palace, beyond the walls, through the city, over the bridge, and into the wilderness. He ran and ran and ran and did not stop until he couldn’t breathe anymore. And after catching his breath, he ran some more. And God directed Elijah into the wilderness, up a hill, through rocks, and over ridges until he came to a small stream.
And that’s where Elijah camped, hiding from Ahab and Ahab’s soldiers. He didn’t know how long he could survive here with nothing but a little stream to keep him alive, no olives or meat or food of any kind. But then a crow came with a mouse in its claws and gave it to Elijah. And Elijah made a fire, cooked the mouse, and ate it for dinner. And while that might sound disgusting, to Elijah it tasted delicious. It was better than any meat he’d ever eaten. Each day, the crow would come back and feed Elijah like he was one of its own baby chicks.
Days and months passed, and the famine came. And while the people in the city grew hungrier and hungrier and thirstier and thirstier, Elijah was safe and fed because he was in the nest of God’s protection, eating from God’s own hand. But as the famine continued, the stream went dry, and Elijah was left with food but no water. And while you can go weeks without food, you can only live a couple of days without water.
Elijah kicked the ground. He’d assumed that God would just keep taking care of him day after day. This whole time, he could have been taking steps to care for himself. He could have planted crops, found some sheep, built traps, or dug a well. But he’d just sat here, taking advantage of God’s kindness.
“God’s goodness was big and long but not forever,” he thought. Even he must grow impatient. Even he must have limits. Even his miracles must expire. And so Elijah prayed and told God he was sorry. And God spoke again to Elijah and told him not to worry, he would still take care of him. All Elijah had to do was go back into the city.
So Elijah followed God out of the wilderness and back into Ahab’s city. And God led Elijah to a widow and said, “She will take care of you.” The woman was thin, her eyes were dry, and her lips parched. She walked slowly to save energy because she was starving. Elijah stepped back and shook his head. “Surely not her, God,” he thought. The woman’s life was already desperate. How could he possibly ask her for help? It would be wrong, cruel, humiliating.
This was going to be even harder than correcting Ahab. But God was God. And God had told him to ask this woman for food. And so even though Elijah could hardly look at the widow’s eyes, he did just that.
At first, the woman wanted to yell at the man. Didn’t he know that everyone was hungry? Didn’t he know that she was starving because she was giving most of her food to her son, who was also starving? And if she fed this man, that meant she would have nothing left for her boy? Wasn’t it obvious? Wasn’t his request preposterous?
But then she thought again. This was the end of her life either way. She only had enough food left for one person, one meal. She was going to die. Her son was going to die. And while this famine would take their lives, she was not going to let it take their dignity. They would remain kind to the very end. They would share even if they didn’t have enough to share. If they were going to die, they would die living like they deserved to live.
And that is the most remarkable part of this whole story: The widow fed Elijah. She was willing to die to save a stranger. But she did not die, because God made another miracle happen. As she scooped flour for Elijah, more flour appeared. And as she poured oil, more oil appeared. And she kept feeding Elijah day after day, and there was always food left for her and her son.
And she watched her son grow strong, and smile, and laugh, and run in the streets. And she wept in relief, her fears and sorrows spilling from her in a great cataract of joy. Her boy would live. The love of her heart, the reason for her struggle, the purpose of her life was going to live. Somehow, they were going to survive this famine. Somehow, they’d make it.
But then her son began to cough. And the next night, he grew sick and started to shake. She felt his head and it was as hot as an iron. Sweat poured down his face, and she held him against her chest, pleading with God. “Why did you give us food if you were going to take him anyway? Why did you raise our hopes only to dash them? You should have just let us die! It would have been less cruel.”
But then she realized that maybe God wasn’t being mean or cruel. Maybe he had other concerns or priorities. Maybe her family had reached their miracle quota. Maybe he’d done all he could and more than she deserved. And while she wept, her son grew limp and cold in her arms. And in the morning, he was gone. The window sat in silence, her tears spent, her emotions drained, her hope depleted. God’s miracles were over.
But then Elijah was in the doorway. He lifted the boy out of her arms, and he prayed. And then she felt it, a whispering in the room, a draft of air, a prickling in her bones. God was there. And so was her boy. He was stepping back into his body, now blinking, now breathing, now standing beside her, wiping a tear from her eye. And there he was, her boy, very much alive.
The widow cried, and Elijah sighed. And once again, God’s miracles continued. And Elijah and the widow learned together that God’s miracles don’t run out. Rivers dry up, life ends, crows fall from the sky. But God’s goodness continues forever and ever and ever. It is a stream that runs cool and clear through the desert. A jar of oil that cannot be emptied. A still small voice that pierces through winds, earthquakes, and fires. A kindness that persists through hunger and suffering. A drought cannot dry it. Death cannot kill it. Because the miracles of God are the fruits of his love. And his love fills the earth like weeds. And weeds will always find spots to grow. In crevices, on mountains, under shade, and in the sun. And if it ever feels like a miracle has stopped, another is about to begin.
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