Questions, Answers, and Obedience

I've been pondering the passage in I Kings 19 this week where God passes by Elijah with the still, small voice and several things have caught my attention. First was the repetition of God's question to Elijah. Before He revealed Himself in the still, small voice, He asked Elijah a simple question: "What are you doing here?" The question in and of itself seemed a little strange to me because surely God knew why Elijah was hiding/sleeping in a cave on Mount Horeb. God Himself had sent an angel to prepare food for Elijah to strengthen him for the journey to Mt. Horeb. Surely God had watched as Elijah ran for his life from Jezebel's wrath. But God is not unknown for asking rhetorical questions! The odd thing to me was that after he asked the question, and Elijah answered, He revealed Himself in the still, small voice and then, He asked the same question again. Was He expecting a different answer this time? Because He didn't get one. Elijah's answer is still the same, "I've been working my heart out for the God-of-the-Angel-Armies. The people of Israel have abandoned your covenant, destroyed the places of worship, and murdered your prophets. I'm the only one left, and now they're trying to kill me." Elijah was in dire straits and nothing was going to change that- not even God passing by!

Perhaps that's why the second oddity that caught my eye happened. I found it very strange that after Elijah first answered God's question, he was commanded to go out and stand on the mountain but he didn't do it. The Bible says, "Then he was told, 'Go, stand on the mountain at attention before God. God will pass by.'" What happens next in the passage is the famous passing of the strong wind, the hurricane, the earthquake, the fire, none of which contained God. But when (and not until) Elijah hears the small, still voice, he gets up, covers his face, and goes to the mouth of the cave. Now, after God's demonstration, Elijah is obedient to go stand on the mountain before God. And the conversation starts all over again with, "Elijah, what are you doing here?"

Elijah was desperate and depressed. He had just traveled 40 days through a desert to hide in a cave. He was running to save his own skin from an evil queen who wanted him dead. He told God he'd had enough. He wanted to die. He knew why he was hiding in that cave. It couldn't be more clear. Yet he was disobedient to God's command to stand on the mountain. Perhaps life was too difficult to be obedient. Perhaps he'd given up hope that even the passing by of God Himself could help him at this point. That's a pretty desperate place to be, especially for one who had seen God do so many wonderful things. Yet God was merciful. If I wanted to teach my child a lesson and asked that they sit up and pay attention and they didn't do it, I'd be tempted to huff out of the room to the tune of, "Well if you won't even pay attention, I'm not going to help!" (Wait, I think I have done that!) But God doesn't do that; He carries on with His lesson and at the end, with Elijah's full attention, He begins the conversation again. But this time, even though Elijah's circumstances haven't changed, even though his answer is the same, God has his undivided attention and now, finally, he is able to be obedient.

It may have been that the thought of God passing by was too terrifying. Maybe Elijah thought he wouldn't survive such a demonstration and that's why he stayed hidden in the cave. Yet the still, small voice, the whisper of God, was undeniable. When he heard it, he couldn't resist. He had to obey.

I guess the point here is that it took that moment of quietness, that hearing of the still, small voice, to give Elijah the strength to pull himself out of despair, to be obedient. Had he only experienced the hurricane, the earthquake, the fire, he would have never had the strength to move past his despair. It made me wonder what we look for in time alone with God. When we leave a church service full of wind and wonders, full of smoke and fire, full of emotional quaking, have we been prepared to be obedient? When we sit in prayer and only focus on the dire straits we're in, begging for a way out, listing our needs, are we any more prepared to be pulled out of our pits? Perhaps after hearing the still small voice, we can hear the reflective question God asks. He doesn't ask, "Elijah, WHY are you here" (which is what Elijah answered). He asked, "Elijah, what are you DOING here?"

It makes me wonder; what are we doing here?

Chicken or Eagle?

I was recently challenged by someone who said I should be grateful for what I had. It wasn't that I was grumbling about what I had. I was simply discontent with the circumstances surrounding what I had. To me, the challenge was silly. A spout-off from someone who didn't know what they were talking about. Someone who didn't have all the facts. But since then, I've pondered the challenge and wondered if perhaps, there isn't something there.

This morning I was reading a "devotional" by Francis de Sales on "devotion" and after taking a brief inventory, I found a dearth of devotion. Dictionary.com lists the synonyms for devotion as love, ardor, and zeal. St. Francis de Sales explains that devotion is "true love of God", that devotion is "simply that spiritual agility by which charity works in us or by aid of which we work quickly and lovingly." Now don't get me wrong, I love God. But I'm not quite sure how agile I am in charitable works. To make it easier to understand, he compares people to birds: ostriches (sinners who never fly), chickens, (people struggling to do good but without true devotion) and eagles (devoted Christians who soar). So, in other words, devotion is loving God so completely that it transforms my life from one who struggles to do good works and perhaps grumbles about it to one who soars through life on wings of love, face towards God, good works simply falling in my trail.

The author says that the world sees the devout as "having discontented, gloomy, sullen faces and claims that devotion brings on depression and unbearable moods." And although I at first disagreed with him, the more I thought about my own devotion, I realized many would say (and have said) that about my example! In his view, I'm a chicken! And if the world only ever knows "birds" from the testimony of a chicken, they'd have a pretty skewed view of a bird! I guess if the world sees the devout as chickens, I'm actually part of the problem!

Without thought, I would tell you I'm a devoted follower of Christ. Yet something is wrong if unbelievers look at my life and see a chicken. They say, "Look at the chicken!" and I say, "That's not a chicken! That's an eagle!" Wow... who looks stupid then?

I confess that I have been undisciplined, wallowing in the dust of the fenced-in chicken yard, my head down, fighting over scraps of worms and bits of dried corn. And with all that dust it's hard to look up and see the eagles and the sky where I belong. I need to get up out of that yard; get above the din and dust- but how?

Jonathan Edwards writes in Religious Affections that

The nature of human beings is to be inactive unless influenced by some affection: love or hatred, desire, hope, fear, etc. These affections are the 'spring of actions', the things that set us moving in our lives, that move us to engage in activities.

These affections stimulate our zeal, or our "tireless, enthusiastic devotion" towards a cause. In other words, without stimulation from affections, we won't have devotion. I need to find my affections and use them as a spring board towards devotion.

I believe that the wear and tear on the soul by life causes our affections to dim. And certainly focusing on our disappointments causes us to lose hope, causes us to fear. It's a tool of Satan to make sure we stay chickens. Without affections to spur us on, we will be "content" to squabble in the hen house. But in the Psalms we are taught over and over again to focus on our blessings, the promises of God fulfilled, the power of God, His protective hand. Every time the psalmist's soul is "down hearted", he remembers God's saving power and finds the affections he needs to spring into devotion.

And on the wings of devotion, he soars.

Psalm 42 (The Message)

A psalm of the sons of Korah

1-3 A white-tailed deer drinks from the creek;
I want to drink God,
deep draughts of God.
I'm thirsty for God-alive.
I wonder, "Will I ever make it—
arrive and drink in God's presence?"
I'm on a diet of tears—
tears for breakfast, tears for supper.
All day long
people knock at my door,
Pestering,
"Where is this God of yours?"

4 These are the things I go over and over,
emptying out the pockets of my life.
I was always at the head of the worshiping crowd,
right out in front,
Leading them all,
eager to arrive and worship,
Shouting praises, singing thanksgiving—
celebrating, all of us, God's feast!

5 Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
soon I'll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
He's my God.

6-8 When my soul is in the dumps, I rehearse
everything I know of you,
From Jordan depths to Hermon heights,
including Mount Mizar.
Chaos calls to chaos,
to the tune of whitewater rapids.
Your breaking surf, your thundering breakers
crash and crush me.
Then God promises to love me all day,
sing songs all through the night!
My life is God's prayer.

9-10 Sometimes I ask God, my rock-solid God,
"Why did you let me down?
Why am I walking around in tears,
harassed by enemies?"
They're out for the kill, these
tormentors with their obscenities,
Taunting day after day,
"Where is this God of yours?"

11 Why are you down in the dumps, dear soul?
Why are you crying the blues?
Fix my eyes on God—
soon I'll be praising again.
He puts a smile on my face.
He's my God.