THE PROPHET OF FIRE - The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons

[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
8. THE ANSWER BY FIRE
By John MacDuff, 1877

        The Tishbite has now attained the fulfillment of his heart's ardent longing -- the glory of God and the good of Israel. All his personal privations had been nothing, to his sorrow of heart on account of the people he was commissioned to teach, and warn, and instruct, being held spell-bound by an evil power. His life-prayer, his life-adjuration, if they only had had ears to hear it, was this -- "O Israel, return unto Jehovah your God, for you have fallen by your iniquity;" and in his earnest, fervent supplication at this hour on Carmel, he tells the reason of his urgency, (v. 37,) "Hear me, O Lord, hear me! that this people may know that You are the Lord God, and that you have turned their heart back again." His prayer was heard. As they saw the forked flames descending on the Prophet's sacrifice -- conscience-stricken at the remembrance of their apostasy, and inwardly marveling at the Divine patience and forbearance -- the grateful thought must have passed through many hearts in that crowd, "It is of the Lord's mercies that we are not consumed!"

        "Take heed, brethren," says the apostle, "lest there be in any of you an evil heart of unbelief, in departing from the living God." The tendency of the corrupt heart is the same in all ages -- though modified by peculiar circumstances -- to "forsake the Fountain of living waters, and to hew out broken [leaky] cisterns, that can hold no water." Let us no longer act the part of traitor Israel, by calling to our Baal -- whatever the form of the seducer be -- "O Baal, hear us." There will be no answer. There can be none -- if our cry be for anything else than the infinite Jehovah, to fill the aching voids and necessities of our natures. May it be ours rather to make the confident appeal, "Our God is in the heavens. Their idols are silver and gold, the work of men's hands. Those who make them are like unto them; so is every one that trusts in them. O Israel, trust in the Lord."

        We cannot now expect such miraculous answers to prayer for the confirmation of our languishing faith as were given to the mighty pleader of Carmel. But in another spiritual sense, the God of Elijah still "answers by fire." Fire! It is the emblem of the work and agency of His blessed Spirit. He still "baptizes with the Holy Spirit, and with fire." Moreover, that highest of boons is procured in the same way as was the fire of Carmel -- in answer to prayer. Our Father who is in heaven, gives his Holy Spirit "unto those who ask him." Spirit of God! descend upon us in Your enlightening, quickening, refining, purifying influences. In order to insure Your coming, we have not, like Elijah, to slay any bullock; we need prepare no burnt-offering. Our great Propitiation has already been made. The Son of Man and Son of God, has already offered Himself a bleeding victim. On this priceless sacrifice the fire of Divine wrath has descended. He, our true Elijah, has upbuilt the altar of ruined humanity. His ransomed people are its living stones. Through everlasting ages it will continue, the peerless monument and memorial of the Divine faithfulness, holiness, and love. "Unto principalities and powers in heavenly places will be made known by the church, the manifold wisdom of God."

        And finally, in closing the chapter, let the eye once more rest with admiration on the prime actor in this magnificent drama. Mark his firmness and self-reliance -- his meek spirit of dependence on Divine aid. Hating expediency -- resolved to stand or fall with truth -- superior to the world's censure -- heedless that the majority is against him -- with the consciousness of God being upon his side, he boldly confronts the floods of ungodly men, and alone he triumphs.

        Some who read these pages may possibly be placed in similar circumstances. Standing solitary in the midst of scoffers -- stigmatized as "peculiar:" surrounded by those who ridicule Elijah's God, and who sneer at their blind, credulous reverence for some obsolete Jewish Scriptures. Fear not. "Be courageous, like men. Be strong." You may be in the minority -- all good men always have been so. The "broad way" is the crowded way. The true way is the one with the narrow gate. But "those who honor me," says God, "I will honor." "Be faithful unto death, and I will give you the crown of life."

        To any who may be guilty of scorning Divine mercy, we cannot say, "Fear not." No, rather, remember you, also, the God of Carmel answers still "by fire." Yes, by fire, shall be His dreadful answer on that day when there can be for you "no more sacrifice for sin!" The Bible speaks of those who are "reserved unto fire." It speaks of a time when "God shall not keep silence, when a fire shall go before him, and it shall be very tempestuous round about him." When "the Lord Jesus, whom you now despise, shall be revealed from heaven, with his mighty angels in flaming fire, taking vengeance on those who know not God." Forbid, that when the discovery is too late -- when all our refuges of lies crumble into dust, and all the gods we have worshiped are proved to have been dumb idols -- forbid that then, we should for the first time, be awakened up to the conviction, which, during a whole life of sin and apostasy, we have disowned and denied, "That the Lord he is God -- the Lord he is God;" and that our only personal interest in this 'living Jehovah,' through an endless eternity, is this -- "Our God is a CONSUMING FIRE!"

        "Seek the Lord, and you shall live; lest he break out like FIRE in the house of Joseph, and devour it; and there be none to quench it in Bethel." "Seek the Lord while he may be found; call upon him while he is near -- let the wicked forsake his way, and the unrighteous man his thoughts -- and let him return unto the Lord, and he will have mercy upon him; and to our God, for he will abundantly pardon."
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
9. THE SOUND OF RAIN
By John MacDuff, 1877

       

        1 Kings 18:41-46

        Then Elijah said to Ahab, "Go and enjoy a good meal! For I hear a mighty rainstorm coming!"
        So Ahab prepared a feast. But Elijah climbed to the top of Mount Carmel and fell to the ground and prayed. Then he said to his servant, "Go and look out toward the sea."
        The servant went and looked, but he returned to Elijah and said, "I didn't see anything." Seven times Elijah told him to go and look, and seven times he went. Finally the seventh time, his servant told him, "I saw a little cloud about the size of a hand rising from the sea."
        Then Elijah shouted, "Hurry to Ahab and tell him, 'Climb into your chariot and go back home. If you don't hurry, the rain will stop you!' "
        And sure enough, the sky was soon black with clouds. A heavy wind brought a terrific rainstorm, and Ahab left quickly for Jezreel. Now the Lord gave special strength to Elijah. He tucked his cloak into his belt and ran ahead of Ahab's chariot all the way to the entrance of Jezreel.


        "You sent abundant rain, O God, to refresh the weary Promised Land." Psalms 68:9

        From the hills of Galilee; from the plains and valleys of Zebulon and Issachar, and the mountains of Ephraim -- thousands on thousands, we found in last chapter, were gathered on the heights of Carmel, to decide the great question whether Baal or Jehovah were God. The afternoon had closed with the signal defeat of the Phoenician priests; and Jehovah, by the loud shouts of the awe-struck multitude, had been owned and acknowledged as the God of Israel. In consequence of this public renunciation of Baal-worship, and this equally solemn and public recognition of the God of their fathers, Elijah feels that he can now with confidence expect the removal of the drought which for three years and a half had cursed the land, and the return of blessings to the famine-stricken people.

        The bodies of the false prophets are lying in ghastly heaps unburied on the margin of the Kishon. The king has gone up, amid the wooded slopes of the mountain, with his nobles and retinue, to feast themselves after these exciting hours. The multitudes are seen dispersing; some for repose and refreshment, others wending their way towards their distant homes. But the Prophet feels that his mission is not yet fulfilled -- one grand sequel is still required to complete the most memorable day of his life. Leaving the terrible Aceldama on the river's banks, and again casting his sheepskin cloak over his shoulders, he ascends to a higher and remoter portion of Carmel, removed from the din alike of the multitudes and of the royal tents below. From his elevation, the old familiar scene of barrenness and desolation met his eye -- waterless channels at his feet; the noted verdure of Carmel turned into ashes -- no living blade to relieve the dull monotony for miles and miles -- so far as his vision could extend, the earth gasping at every pore. Rest and refreshment he greatly requires, alike for his weary body and jaded spirit. He had tasted nothing since morning; and now the setting sun had gone down behind the western ridges of the mountain. But, like his great Antitype, "his food is to do the will of Him that sent him, and to finish His work."

        In company with a young attendant, he resorts to this secluded spot in order that he may plead with Jehovah, (now that he had showed himself unto Ahab,) to make good His faithful promise, "I will send rain upon the earth." He might well have urged the excuse of an over wrought and overtasked frame for postponement until the following morning; but if -- like many earthly conquerors -- he had failed to follow up his victory, it would have marred the completeness and grandeur of the day's transaction. Both king and people might have left the scene, and missed the great closing lesson. Elijah, however, never hesitates. Whether it were by some intimation made by special revelation to his inner sense -- or whether, more probably, by some outward token, such as the gentle rustling on the tops of the forest-trees premonitory of storm, we cannot pronounce. But it was on hearing "the sound of abundance of rain" that he himself ascended to his sequestered sanctuary; instructing his servant at the same time to proceed to a yet higher promontory or spur of the mountain, from which he could command a full view of the waters of the Mediterranean to the remote horizon.

        The sun of that long day had already set; but, as is the case in Eastern evenings, a bright radiance lingered on mountain, plain, and ocean. The sky still preserved the same monotonous aspect it had worn during the years of drought. Its azure depths were undimmed with a cloud. The great sea beneath it, slept in quiet serenity.

        Let us pause for a moment at this impressive point in the narrative. What a place of hallowed calm after the exciting scenes and turmoil of that day of days! You who are engaged in the busy thoroughfares of life -- fevered and fretted with its anxieties -- from morning to evening your ears and your spirits stunned with the loud, never-ebbing tide; do you know what it is, when night is gathering its shadows as at Carmel, to ascend to some quiet oratory to be alone with God, and get your spirits calmed and refreshed amid this "Sabbath of the soul?" Or you, who, like Elijah, may have experienced, during the day, some eminent tokens of blessing in your worldly undertakings -- the fire coming down on your sacrifice -- your fears disappointed -- your fondest hopes and wishes realized -- some successful stroke in business -- some unexpected deliverance from harassing anxiety and vexation -- the occurrence of some prosperous and joyful event in your family circles -- do you deem it alike your hallowed privilege and duty, to take the first opportunity of owning the hand of the gracious Restorer of all good, and the gracious Deliverer from all evil; ascending the silent, lonely Carmel-height, that you may, like the Prophet, pour out your soul in fervent gratitude -- record your vow, and offer your oblation of thanksgiving?
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
9. THE SOUND OF RAIN
By John MacDuff, 1877

        Beautiful, indeed, is Elijah's HUMILITY. He was undoubtedly the hero of the hour. He was more truly King in the sight of Israel than Ahab. As a prince he had power with God, and had prevailed. The keys of Providence seemed to hang at his belt -- his voice had rent the heavens -- at his summons the flames had descended -- the fiery sword had leapt from its cloudy scabbard, flashing vengeance on his enemies. Had he sought it -- a triumphal procession might have borne him laurel-crowned and garlanded to Jezreel. The chivalrous songs and minstrelsy that welcomed the illustrious sovereign of the preceding age, might have been accorded to him also. But no vainglorious thought tarnished the splendor of the moral victory. Never is he greater, on this illustrious occasion, than when, the shouts of the multitude over -- he retires with his servant to a isolated spot on the mountain; proclaiming, that, for all the deeds of that day of renown, he arrogates no praise, no glory to himself, but gives it all to the God whose servant he felt honored to be. He cast himself down upon the earth, and "put his face between his knees."

        We scarcely recognize the man; he seems for the moment to have lost his personal identity. A few hours before, he was "the Prophet of Fire;" the lightning flashing from his eye; or, standing by the Kishon, a girded homicide, the sword gleaming in his hands. Now he is "clothed with humility." Bold and strong as a sturdy oak of Bashan in the presence of the dense human crowd -- he bows his head like a bulrush in the presence of the Lord of hosts. 'Lord,' he seems to say, 'I am but sinful dust and ashes. I am but a man of like passions with that fickle multitude below. I am but a vessel, a lump of clay in the hand of the potter. Not unto me, not unto me, but unto You, the living Jehovah, before whom I stand, be all the glory!'

        If we may imagine him, in these first moments of prayer, glancing back at the long hours of conflict which had terminated in the miraculous symbol -- and seeking, moreover, in the retrospect, to give utterance to a full heart of thanksgiving -- would it not be, if not in the words, at least in the spirit of the sacred bard of his nation -- "Sing unto God, O kingdoms of the earth -- O sing praises unto the Lord; to him that rides upon the heaven of heavens, which were of old; lo, he does send out his voice, and that a mighty voice. Ascribe strength unto God -- his excellency is over Israel, and his strength is in the clouds. O God, you are terrible out of your holy places -- the God of Israel is he that gives strength and power unto his people. Blessed be God."

        But it was for purposes of PRAYER, rather than praise, that the Prophet had ascended the slopes of the mountain. While he himself remains in rapt supplication; his servant seven successive times hastens to the upper height to bring news of the visible answer. "Go up now," was the command; "look toward the sea." But six times did he return with the strange and disappointing tidings, "There is nothing." Noble, however, was the Tishbite's undaunted faith -- unswerving his confidence in a prayer-hearing God. He staggered not for a moment through unbelief. He knew that Jehovah was not, like Baal, "asleep or on a journey." That what He had shortly before spoken -- not only was He "able also to perform," but He would also perform. Though, therefore, the vision tarried, he patiently waited for it. He knew that "at the end it would speak, and not lie." As his attendant comes back, time after time, with the dispiriting announcement, it only seems to quicken his faith, and to strengthen within him the resolve of the old wrestler of Jabbok, "I will not let you go except you bless me."

        Moreover, he would not allow either this promise of God or the precursive indications of the storm -- "the sound of abundance of rain" -- to supersede the duty of supplication. When he heard the rustling in the tops of the trees -- the low moaning sound -- the harbinger of rain and tempest, he might have reasoned with himself, as many are still inclined to do, 'What need is there to cry to Jehovah, when I already hear the mutterings of His voice? Why need I call for rain, when every tree-top is already countersigning the faithful word given at Zarephath?' But how differently does he act! These waving trees have poetically been spoken of, as so many bells summoning this lone worshiper to prayer. Nor was it in vain that Elijah sped him to his mountain oratory. His servant observes, hovering in the western horizon, a tiny cloud, like a man's hand -- to an Eastern, habituated to the signs of the sky, a trustworthy token of approaching storm and rain. He speeds down to the pleading Prophet with the longed-for news. It is enough. The Lord has given the word -- He is about to send "a plentiful rain," to refresh His inheritance "when it was weary."

        An urgent message is conveyed to Ahab to spare his chariot and hasten to his distant palace, before the Kishon is flooded with the waterfalls, and the dusty roads have been softened into moist, tenacious clay, rendering them impassable. Meanwhile, cloud after cloud rises, until the sky becomes a frowning battlement; and before Elijah can reach the royal pavilion, every tree on Mount Carmel is wrestling with the storm! The monarch has already started, amid pelting rain and howling wind; but, fleeter than his swift coursers, are the feet of the Bedouin Prophet. Strange close to the chivalrous proceedings of this high convocation; to witness Elijah, with pilgrim staff and girded loins -- weary in body, but with unchafed and unsubdued spirit -- running in front of the royal chariot until he gets in sight of the gate of Jezreel!
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
9. THE SOUND OF RAIN
By John MacDuff, 1877

        As the stern reprover of Ahab's guilt, he had been brought until now into unwilling antagonism with his sovereign. But, in consequence of the king's public renunciation of idolatry, and the overthrow of Baal-worship; he takes the earliest opportunity of displaying his deference and loyalty as a subject. Perhaps there were joyous thoughts -- alas! never to be realized -- which were then filling his soul, regarding his sovereign, which imparted fresh fleetness to his limbs, and energy to his spirit. It would have been to him the noblest of the day's triumphs, if Ahab had become, from that hour, an altered man -- consecrating the remainder of his life and reign in undoing the fatal influences of an unhappy past; and, by the overthrow of abominable idolatries, inaugurating a new era of blessings for Israel. Indeed, from the king's pliable, impressible nature, we may fairly surmise, that the marvels of this day in Carmel had, for the time, spoken to him with irresistible power -- that the Prophet had heard the sovereign's voice, mingling with that of the people, in renouncing the impostures by which he had been so long spell-bound, and in reasserting the supremacy of Israel's Jehovah.

        Notwithstanding, therefore, the buffetings of the storm -- the wind sweeping along the plain, and the torrents falling on his head, and drenching his shaggy locks -- on, with elastic step and kindling eye, sped the prophet, never pausing for breath until the charioteer drew rein in front of the royal palace. True Arab, however, in extraction, though he probably was, and with all the marvelous physical endurance of his tribe, it is almost impossible to suppose that, after the unremitting toils of the long day, Elijah should have been equal to such an undertaking, had he not been endowed with supernatural strength. But we read that "the hand of the Lord was upon him." That same God who had braced him with moral courage from morn to even, gifted him physically for the closing duties of that great occasion. He could emphatically echo the words uttered aforetime by joyous lips, after a similar season of deliverance and triumph -- "We went through FIRE and through WATER, but you brought us out into a wealthy place." Never perhaps, before or since, was the unfailing Divine promise fulfilled on so vast a scale -- "As your day is, so shall your strength be."

        If, in speaking of this day's transaction in the preceding chapter, we beheld, in the fire coming down from heaven and devouring the sacrifice, a dim but suggestive picture of the Divine acceptance of a nobler Propitiation -- may we not still farther, in these water-floods which followed -- the sky sending down its refreshing showers -- see an impressive symbol of the great sequel in the gospel dispensation, the descent of the Holy Spirit; and more especially on the Church of the latter day, when "the dry land shall become springs of water;" while in Elijah himself, prostrate in supplication, we have the representative of the Church herself, "asking of the Lord rain in the time of the latter rain" -- the God of Elijah, moreover, uttering the challenge -- "Prove me now herewith, if I will not open you the windows of heaven and pour you out a blessing, that there shall not be room enough to receive it."

        Other symbolic teaching, also, may be gathered from this scene, with reference to God's dealings with individual believers. Is it their conversion? It is first the fire of conviction; then the healing, comforting, refreshing influences of the Spirit -- bringing home the blessed sense of pardon and forgiveness through the blood of the cross. Is it His method of procedure with them in their times of trial? Comfort and solace follow affliction. First the fire, then the rain; first the wounding, then the healing; first the flames of the fiery furnace, then the refreshing comforts of the Holy Spirit. First the mown grass laid low by the scythe, then the promised fulfilled -- "He shall come down like rain upon the mown grass, as showers that water the earth."

        Let us, in closing, listen to the cheering word -- "Get up, for there is the sound of abundance of rain." Glad and grateful must that moment have been to the many thousands of Israel -- when the gasping earth, that had for three long years suffered in mute agony, drank in the refreshing full flood of God -- when the true Church, who had beheld in that sky of brass and these furrows of iron, the visible tokens of the Divine curse -- now witnessed the heavens unfolding their black, inky scroll, with the joyful tidings that the curse was removed. Can we participate in this joy in a loftier spiritual sense? Do we see the curse of sin taken away -- God propitiated? and from the "rain" with which He is "filling the pools," are we drawing all needful supplies for our parched souls? Can we say with the Prophet -- "O Lord, I will praise you -- though you were angry with me, your anger is turned away, and you comforted me. Behold, God is my salvation; I will trust, and not be afraid -- for the Lord Jehovah is my strength and my song; he also has become my salvation. Therefore with joy shall we draw water out of the wells of salvation."
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
9. THE SOUND OF RAIN
By John MacDuff, 1877

        If we are drooping and desponding -- if our cry is, "My flesh longs for you in a dry and thirsty land where no water is," we again echo Elijah's words -- "Get up, for there is the sound of abundance of rain." Our privileges are many. The Spirit of God is ever and always moving "on the tops of the mulberry trees." The small clouds have been rising, and copious showers have fallen. Go, like Elijah -- get to the oratory! -- pray that the cloud may spread, that it may stretch across the heavens. At present we may have only the drops before the shower. But there shall be "abundance of rain" -- "showers of blessing," for the mouth of the Lord has spoken it.

        But let there be a word of solemn warning to us also. There is deep responsibility in that "sound of the abundance of rain." If at any time in our individual experience we should hear the "rustling on the tree-tops," let us not reject or neglect the monitory voice -- "Arise, get up!" There is no one but can tell of such solemn seasons, when this rustling was heard -- "the voice of the Lord God walking amid the trees of the garden."

        Think of the past! That sick bed was a rustling sound of the coming rain -- when, from the long slumber of unbroken health, conscience woke up to a sense of the uncertainly of life, and the possible certainty and suddenness of death. That solemn bereavement was a rustling amid the tree-tops -- the moaning and wailing of earth's night-blast -- the sudden blackening and overcasting of the azure sky -- oh, how solemnly did the warning voice sound amid the stillness of the death-chamber, or standing by the grave -- "Get up!" -- leave the din of the world behind you -- Get up -- prepare your chariot -- the deluge of wrath may be ready to overtake you -- "Escape for your life!" -- there may verily be but a step between you and death.

        That solemn sermon was a rustling on the tree-tops -- do you remember it? When the word came home with irresistible power -- when the message (perhaps delivered with stammering lips) was like an arrow in the hand of the mighty, and went direct to your heart of hearts? Up -- at the sound of the abundance of rain -- go, like that importunate intercessor for Israel, and rest not until the little cloud have overspread the whole horizon of your being, and showers of heavenly blessing descend on your soul. Yes, and amid your own vacillating feebleness, like that of the wavering crowd on Carmel, look above, to Him -- the true Elijah -- who is pleading your cause on the mount of God; and in the gathering rain-cloud is fulfilling His own precious promise -- "And I will ask the Father, and he shall give you another Comforter, that he may abide with you forever."
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
10. THE FLIGHT TO THE WILDERNESS
By John MacDuff, 1877

       

        1 Kings 19:1-4

        When Ahab got home, he told Jezebel what Elijah had done and that he had slaughtered the prophets of Baal. So Jezebel sent this message to Elijah: "May the gods also kill me if by this time tomorrow I have failed to take your life like those whom you killed."
        Elijah was afraid and fled for his life. He went to Beersheba, a town in Judah, and he left his servant there. Then he went on alone into the desert, traveling all day. He sat down under a solitary juniper tree and prayed that he might die. "I have had enough, Lord," he said. "Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors."
         

        "Elijah was a man subject to like passions as we are." James 5:17

        We left Elijah in last chapter a hero -- accomplishing deeds of unparalleled prowess and faith. The words employed at a future time by the Redeemer regarding his great follower, seem equally applicable to him -- "Among those born of women there is none greater." As the stars in their courses, near this same river Kishon, had fought against Sisera -- so were the very elements of nature made subservient to the Prophet's will -- "fire and hail," and "stormy wind" authenticating his divine mission. After such remarkable and encouraging tokens of the Divine presence and power, we expect to find him more the champion of truth than ever; in his undaunted career, going "from strength to strength" -- the torch kindled on the altar of Carmel, burning with increasing brightness as he bears its radiance among the homes and cities of Israel. As we see the bold, lion-hearted man, running amid the rain-torrents along the Esdraelon highway, in front of the royal chariot -- his mind filled with the day's wonders, we almost fancy we can hear him exultingly exclaiming, "It is God that girds me with strength, and makes my way perfect. He makes my feet like hinds' feet, and sets me upon my high places. JEHOVAH lives; and blessed be my rock; and let the God of my salvation be exalted," (Psalms 18:32, 33, 46.)

        As he halts at the gate of Jezreel, we doubt not it is with a noble resolution to follow up his triumph on the morrow. We expect to see the leader of God's armies rush, like another Jonah, through the metropolis of revolt, with the message of Divine rebuke and mercy,"O Israel, you have destroyed yourself, but in me is your help found" -- confirming the capricious monarch and the wavering people; and if there be frowns still lingering on brows, which yesterday's defeat has clouded and humbled, what of that? Will not his answer be ready, "The Lord [the living Jehovah] is on my side; I will not fear what man can do unto me!" "Now know I that the Lord saves his anointed; he will hear him from his holy heaven with the saving strength of his right hand," (Psalms 20:6.)

        Alas! a new dramatic, we may rather call it a new tragic, turn, unexpectedly occurs. This Asahel -- swift of foot, and mighty of soul -- degenerates into a craven and coward. We almost fail to recognize the Elijah of yesterday in the unworthy renegade of today. On Carmel, he had willingly and without one misgiving or hesitation, staked his life on the answer by fire. These knives and lancets, which his bold irony had whetted, would, in the event of failure, have inflicted on him a terrible retaliation. Yet, with all this certainty before him, he went fearless, in the strength of the Lord, against the mighty. Now, how different! Poor human nature reveals itself. "The tower of David, built for an armory, whereon there hang a thousand shields and all manner of weapons of mighty men," becomes in a moment a humiliating ruin. Come and see what the best and bravest of God's saints are when left to themselves. "O Lucifer, son of the morning, how are you fallen!"

        Let us briefly rehearse the narrative.

        Ahab, on reaching Jezreel, without delay conveys to his queen the astounding news of the day's conflict and victory -- that Elijah, by the most irrefragable proof, has vindicated his authority and established the supremacy of JEHOVAH; that her idol-god is dethroned, her priests massacred -- and that the solemn amen and shout of the people had ratified the proceedings. The monarch's own fickle spirit, as we have remarked in last chapter, could not fail to have been impressed by all he had witnessed; and doubtless he would cherish the hope that Jezebel, if she did not acquiesce in the popular enthusiasm, would, at all events, deem it a matter of political expediency, to waive her own prejudices and biases for the public benefit. He had mistaken the temper and will of his overbearing consort. The storm that had burst over Carmel gathered afresh over her brow. Her rage is irrepressible. "What! to have the cherished dream of years dissolved thus rudely in a moment! To have her ancestral faith dishonored and degraded; her priestly confessors stripped of their sacred garments, and their blood spilt like water. To have her husband and his whole subjects duped and hoodwinked, and all this by a half Hebrew, half Arab fanatic -- the upholder of a worn-out debilitated system of old-world belief! No! it cannot be endured!"
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
10. THE FLIGHT TO THE WILDERNESS
By John MacDuff, 1877

        And if Ahab ventures to interpose in this fit of frenzy, and speak of the double miraculous attestation; she has her reply ready. The so-called fire-answer was only the crowning successful trick of the wily old impostor; the rain falling at his prayer was the merest accident of weather -- a freak of capricious nature -- No, no! the shouts and vows of Carmel -- so far as her influence is concerned -- shall never be ratified within the palace of Jezreel; the heavens may again be shut up; the famine may drain the life of the nation -- but on no account shall Baal's altars be overthrown. By all the gods of Tyre, the insult perpetrated by this Gilead Prophet shall not pass with impunity. The blood of her priests shall not be borne unavenged to the shores of Phoenicia! That hour a messenger is sent to Elijah to confirm the threat -- that before the shadows of tomorrow's evening gather over the hills of Samaria, his life should be as the life of the ghastly corpses strewing the banks of the Kishon.

        And though not precisely stated, we are left too plainly to infer from the sequel, the effect which this outburst produced on the mind of wavering, cowardly Ahab. By the time the whirlwind of his consort's passion had expended itself -- alas! his goodness, also, had become that of the morning cloud and early dew. The deep impression of the Fire and Rain answers, was already obliterated from his abject soul -- his voice is now loud as that of Jezebel in denouncing the whole day of miracle and triumph as a gigantic imposture; and Elijah more than ever, "a troubler in Israel" -- a fanatic slaughterer -- whose deed of recent blood can only be expiated by his life.

        What was the result of this threatening message and sudden reverse of feeling on the conduct of the Prophet? We might well have expected, from his precedents, that he would maintain either a dignified silence, or send to the haughty idolatress a dignified answer and reproof, worthy of the ambassador of the living Jehovah -- a message, in the spirit of that sent by a later champion of the faith, to the Jezebel of her age -- "Go," said Chrysostom to the person sent by the Empress Eudoxia, with a threat of vengeance, "Go, tell her I fear nothing but sin."

        Or if this base appeal to natural fears and to induce an unworthy flight, were for a moment entertained by him, that he would immediately exorcize the 'coward thought' with worthier resolves. He who had not winced or quailed, when he stood, in single-handed combat, against six hundred antagonists -- who had braved, for years, summer's drought and winter's cold -- could it be supposed that for a moment, he would stagger under the impotent threat of a woman? Impossible! And yet so it is. Paralyzed with terror -- overpowered and overmastered as if by some sudden temptation -- Elijah resolves on escape. "He arose and went for his life."

        Mournful transition! We look in vain for the dauntless vessel which, a few hours before, we beheld holding on its triumphant course amid buffeting storms. All we can now discern is a forlorn castaway, in the midst of a dark sea, without sails or oars or rudder -- drifting on, he knows not where -- with no star to guide him, and no voice to cheer him in the waste wilderness of waters! Accompanied by his servant, and probably under the cover of night, he hurries across the mountains of Samaria; onwards thence, to the extreme south of Judah in the direction of the Arabian desert. We can follow him in thought, far away from the hills of Judea -- in the wide upland valley, or rather undulating plain, sprinkled with shrubs and with the wild flowers which indicate the transition from the pastures of Palestine to the desert, marked also by the ancient wells dug far into the rocky soil, and bearing on their stone or marble margins the traces of the long ages during which the water has been drawn up from their deep recesses. At last he seeks shelter in the town of Beersheba -- 'the well of the oath' -- the last point reached by the patriarchs -- the last center of their wandering flocks and herds, where Abraham planted the grove of light feathery tamarisk, and called on 'the name of the Lord, the everlasting God.'

        How the memories of the great Father of his nation -- so fragrant around that sacred spot -- must have rebuked his coward flight! He must have read on every crumbling altar-stone the record of the patriarch's faith, and the reproof of his own degenerate spirit. Nor is he satisfied with the refuge which the walls of Beersheba afford him. One of the best kings of Judah (Jehoshaphat) then swayed the scepter of David's house; and as Beersheba was situated within his territory, the fugitive Prophet -- with such a guarantee for his security and safety -- might well have been contented there to remain. But his whole nature seems demoralized and panic-stricken. He had lost, alike all confidence in God and trust in man. He cannot endure even the company of his servant, or allow him to share his heavy secret.

        Leaving his attendant to his fate in the city, he himself plunges into the depths of the wilderness -- the wild arid wasteland terminated in the far south by the tremendous gorges and precipices of Sinai. On, on, on, he plods, during a long weary day, until the sun sets over the burning sands. No ravens of Cherith are there to minister to him -- no sympathizing voices of Sarepta to cheer him. The journey, even for his iron bodily frame, seems too much. Footsore, travel-worn -- with aching head and fevered brain -- he casts himself at the foot of a bush of desert juniper -- one of those shrubs with white blossoms, familiar to travelers in these cheerless wadys, and under which the Arabian to this day shelters himself, alike from the sun's heat and the night winds.

        There, on a hard pillow lies the forlorn pilgrim -- muttering, with faint lips, a prayer, (how different from the recent one of Carmel!) "He requested for himself that he might die, and said, It is enough, now, O Lord, take away my life, for I am not better than my fathers." "It is enough!" -- that is, 'I need go no farther, I feel I can get no comfort -- my life is embittered with cruel failure; what can I hope for, if the trumpet-tongued miracles of Carmel fail to convince? My sun has set behind these distant waves of the great sea. I had hoped to have a grave in Israel -- But 'It is enough.' Let me die, uncoffined, unsepulchred! Let the desert sand be my winding-sheet -- let the desert winds sigh and chant my requiem!'
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
10. THE FLIGHT TO THE WILDERNESS
By John MacDuff, 1877

        In the deep, dreadful silence of that night-season, what visions must have clustered around his pillow, as he laid down his weary head to sleep. The crowd and the shouts of Carmel -- the descending fire -- the blackening heavens -- the refreshing rain -- the impressed king -- the exulting people -- his own prayer! And then, these phantoms, as they troop before him, chasing one another in succession through his fevered brain, leave, in this chaos of thought, the altar and sacrifice on which the fire descended, standing by itself, lonely, desolate, forsaken -- the monument of his triumph -- the memorial of his guilt and shame; and, worse than all -- would not the reflection goad him like a scorpion-sting, the thought of the joyful thousands of penitent Israel who had woke up at his bidding to hope and faith -- deserted all at once by their leader; some relapsing into the old idolatrous worship; others, if true to their convictions, given over unshielded to the fiendish vengeance of Jezebel -- their blood flowing like water in the streets of Jezreel -- calling, in vain, for aid and support from the crouching coward of the wilderness -- the creed of the palace, "Baal he is the Lord!" effacing the nobler confession of Carmel, like the writing on the sand obliterated by the rising tide! Oh, who would covet that uneasy head in the Beersheba desert? Every star in the sky at Cherith used to look down upon him like an angel of light. But now these heavens are a dark inky scroll, written in letters of lamentation, and mourning, and woe -- sorrow, anguish of spirit, wounded pride -- were that night his bitter portion. The torch of "The Prophet of Fire" lay quenched and blackened at his feet. A prince and a great man in Israel had ignominiously fallen. "Put not your trust in princes, nor in the son of man in whom there is no help. His breath goes forth -- he returns to his earth -- in that very day his thoughts perish!"

        We may well learn, from this sad crisis in Elijah's history, the lesson of our own weakness, and our dependence on God's grace. In the divine life, often the most dangerous and perilous time for the believer, is after a season of great enlargement; when he is saying to himself, "My mountain stands strong." The spiritual armor is loosely worn -- he gets drowsy after the flush of victory -- the bold, bounding river, that we have just witnessed taking leap after leap in successive cataracts, loses itself in the low, marshy swamps of self-confidence. In prosperity, moreover, whether that prosperity be outward or inward, worldly prosperity or soul prosperity, or both combined -- the Lord often puts His favored servants at such seasons to the proof; to test the strength and reality of their faith.

        He did so with Abraham. After a season of signal and unexampled blessing, "God tested Abraham" -- the death of an only son and covenant-heir was the fiery ordeal. But the patriarch stood the trial. He came forth purified from the furnace, the possessor of a richer heritage of covenanted promises! He did so with Paul. Lest he should be exalted above measure, He brought him from the third heavens to endure the misery of some earthly thorn. But he also came forth unscathed. His "buffeting" led him to prayer. He leaves the furnace, glorying in his infirmities; exulting in the power of Christ, and in a deeper personal interest in the blessings of His grace. Elijah had been thus "exalted." In his elation, he had too confidently calculated on success. His naturally impetuous spirit, in the hour of triumph, would be in no mood to brook courtly opposition or to receive the threat and affront of an insulting message. His strength gives way just where we would have least expected -- under an appeal to the lowest emotion of a man's nature -- fear.

        We are often exhorted to "beware of besetting sins;" but a different lesson is brought home to us from Elijah's experience. It is rather to beware of sins that are least besetting -- loopholes in the citadel of the heart through which we have least dread of being successfully assailed. If there was one sin, judging from the Prophet's previous history, by which he was less likely to be overtaken than another, it was the sin of weakness or a craven spirit. God often allows His people thus to lapse, in order to show what broken, bruised, fragile reeds in themselves they are. Ah! "when you think you stand, take heed lest you fall." "Be not high minded, but fear." When even a Samson, when shorn of his locks -- becomes weak as other men -- what need is there for those of inferior moral and spiritual stature -- the "Feeble Minds," and "Little Faiths," and "Ready to Halts" to remember, that it is by grace they stand! When a mighty inhabitant of the forest succumbs to the blast of temptation; what need is there for the saplings to tremble in grappling with the storm! -- "Howl fir-tree, for the cedar has fallen."

        Beware of taking any step without the Divine sanction. If Elijah, on hearing of Jezebel's rage, had made prayer still his resort; and asked in simple faith, "Lord, what would you have me to do?" it would have saved him many a bitter hour and tear. But he constituted himself judge of what was right, took his own resolution, and abandoned himself to flight. "He fled for his life;" but, in doing so, he lost sight of this golden thread of comfort and joy -- that life is in the hand of God. He ignored, for the time, his glorious old watchword -- flung aside the glowing lamp which had hitherto guided his path -- "Jehovah lives, before whom I stand!" Hitherto, with the docility and confidence of a child, he had followed God's leadings alone. Cherith, Zarephath, Carmel, were like so many finger-posts on life's journey, bearing the inscription, "This is the way, walk in it." But now, he followed the dictate of his own cowardly fears, and wounded, fretted pride. Dearly did he pay the penalty of his folly! "There is a way which seems right unto a man, but the end thereof are the ways of death."
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
10. THE FLIGHT TO THE WILDERNESS
By John MacDuff, 1877

        Let us be careful not to follow our own paths; not to take any solemn and important step unless it be divinely owned and recognized. "In all your ways acknowledge Him, and He shall direct your paths." "Blessed is the man whose strength is in You, in whose heart are Your ways." Lot followed his own way -- it was to the well-watered plain -- the luxurious capital in the valley of Siddim. He rushed blindfold into evil. Carnal reasons alone lured him there. It was the result of no prayer -- no divine impulse. Jonah followed his own way; but not with impunity, did the fugitive rush, in blind madness, from God and from duty. He was tossed into a raging sea -- left an outcast on a desert shore -- carrying, moreover, the brand of a wounded conscience -- a fostered spirit of peevishness and discontent with him through life -- we fear to the grave.

        So long as Elijah did his God-appointed work earnestly, unflaggingly, all went well with him. When he paused, hesitated, faltered -- or rather, when, in an impetuous moment, he cast away the noblest opportunity ever prophet had -- shut himself up in a wilderness -- settled down into inaction -- shedding ignoble tears under a bush in the desert -- then the great soul and its magnanimous purposes is gone. He has become a fretful, petulant child, morbidly brooding over his disappointed hopes. He flings away the oars of duty and obedience -- his strong brawny arms have ceased to pull the bark in which his God had bid him struggle -- and now he is at the mercy of winds and waves.

        Beware of murmuring under trial. Elijah's desert prayer was one of pride, presumption, irritability, impatience, peevishness -- "It is enough, take away my life." Even had his success on Carmel been marred and counteracted by the evil influences at work in Ahab's court, and a new era of persecution had in consequence been initiated in Israel -- his duty was patient submission to the Divine will, cherishing the humble confidence and assurance that light would sooner or later arise out of darkness. Instead of this, he breathes the prayer, of all others least warrantable for any creature of God to utter, "Let me die." There are circumstances, indeed, when such a prayer is permissible -- when it becomes a noble expression of believing faith and hope. Such was the case when the great Apostle, in subordination to the Higher will which was ever his guiding principle, made the avowal of "a desire to depart and be with Christ, which was far better" -- making, however, the reservation, that so long as his Lord had work for him in the Church on earth, he would cheerfully remain. Elijah's prayer was altogether different. It was the feverish outbreak of a moment of passion. How forbearing and gracious was God in not taking him at his word! Had he done so, the Prophet would have died under a cloud -- his name would have been associated with cowardice -- his character would have been a mournful example of greatness ending in disgrace. He would have lost the glorious closing scene of all -- the chariot of fire, and the deathless victory.

        Each of us has, or may yet have, his day of trial -- sickness, bereavement, crushed hopes, bitter disappointments, crossed wishes -- stings and arrows from quarters least expected. How are we to meet them? Are we to give way to peevish, fretful repining? Are we to say, 'I am wearied of life. I would I were done with all this wretchedness. What pleasure is existence to this wounded, harassed, smitten spirit?' No, take courage. It is not "enough." The Lord has work for you still to do. It is not for you, but for Him, to say, at His own appointed time, as He said to Hezekiah, "You shall die, and not live." If we have ever been guilty of uttering such a rash prayer as that of Elijah -- "Take away my life" -- let us be thankful God has not given us the fulfillment of our own wish -- the ratification of our own desire -- and allowed us to die, unfit and unprepared!

        But we must not close this chapter, picturing the Prophet in his desert divested of all hope or faith -- with no relic remaining of his own former self. His spiritual life for the moment may have been reduced to a spark; but the spark was there, and his God will yet fan it into a flame. Even in his peevish, petulant utterance, as he lies under that juniper tree, he prays. Even in the far desert he has not forgotten (oh, how could he forget!) the ONE who, for years, had been his almighty Protector, Guide, Friend! "It is enough, O Lord" -- "O Lord!" "My flesh," he seems to say, "longs for You in a dry and thirsty land where there is no water." "As the deer pants after the water-brooks, so pants my soul for You, O God." "It is enough!" 'Man has deceived me -- earthly hopes and expectations have proved like this desert's mirage -- "It is enough, O Lord," I turn to You.'

        Yes, let us leave Elijah on that prostrate couch of unworthy exile, yet still, mingling accents of fretfulness with accents of prayer. This poor, battered-down flower seems, in the moment of its humiliation, to turn towards the Great Sun. Arise, Prophet of the desert! your God has still for you a noble, unfulfilled destiny. Your future is in His hands. Say not, in your blind, disappointed pride, "It is enough!" Let Him work out His own plan of infinite wisdom. Arise! you have much yet to do and dare and suffer for His sake. He will yet turn your mourning into dancing, take off your sackcloth, and gird you with gladness. Arise! take your torch with its expiring flame -- The God who gave it to you, is yet to revive it, and make thousands bless both Him and you for its undying radiance. The day is coming when you shall say, "It is enough" -- but not, until, your work finished, the chariot and horses of fire are waiting ready to bear you to your eternal reward!
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
11. THE ANGEL'S VISIT
By John MacDuff, 1877

       

        1 Kings 19:5-9

        Then he lay down and slept under the juniper tree. But as he was sleeping, an angel touched him and told him, "Get up and eat!" He looked around and saw some bread baked on hot stones and a jar of water! So he ate and drank and lay down again.
        Then the angel of the Lord came again and touched him and said, "Get up and eat some more, for there is a long journey ahead of you."
        So he got up and ate and drank, and the food gave him enough strength to travel forty days and forty nights to Mount Sinai, the mountain of God. There he came to a cave, where he spent the night.
        But the Lord said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
         

        "And the Lord said unto Satan, The Lord rebuke you, O Satan; even the Lord that has chosen Jerusalem rebuke you -- is not this a brand plucked out of the fire? And the angel of the Lord stood by." -- Zechariah 3:2, 5

        "Man ate angels' food." -- Psalms 78:25

        We return to the lonely prophet, sitting sullen and dejected under the bush of the desert. "Lo," he had said in his despondency, "I will wander far off, and remain in the wilderness. I will hasten my escape from the windy storm and tempest." Jaded in body and racked in spirit, sleep -- nature's great restorer -- "the chief nourisher in life's feast" -- overtakes him. He had prayed that he might die; and as his eyes were now closing, he might have wished it were the last long slumber that knows no waking. But God's thoughts are not man's thoughts. "He gives his beloved sleep." He rocks this petulant child to rest in his desert cradle; but he is to wake with tearless eyes, refreshed, invigorated, gladdened. "Weeping may endure for the night, but joy comes in the morning."

        Leaving the Prophet wrapped in slumber, let us pause and note God's tender interest in His people. And this especially in seasons, when we might have imagined they had forfeited all claim on His care and compassion. "He considers their soul in adversity." As this fugitive from duty is stretched under the juniper tree, with his sheepskin mantle for a covering, lo, a bright angelic being, probably during the darkness of night -- is seen approaching the sleeper's couch, bending over his sun-browned face, furrowed with fatigue and sorrow. It is one of those spirits to whom has been assigned the lofty mission of 'ministering to those who are heirs of salvation.' It may have been one of the very throng who had encamped around the hero-prophet in the day of his triumph. With what mournful sympathy and interest would he now steal to his side, in the hour of his humiliation!

        The personal and visible ministry of angels was no strange occurrence in Hebrew history. In this same wilderness, a thousand years before, Ishmael's cries and Hagar's tears, were answered by an angel's directing voice and presence. A century later, another houseless fugitive from Beersheba had laid himself down, like the prophet, amid heaps of rough stones, to sleep. Angelic beings were sent to guard the pillow of the wanderer, and convert the crudest of couches into the gate of heaven. Generations after Elijah had been borne to heaven in his flaming chariot of victory, a lowlier chariot was seen moving along the neighboring desert of Gaza. A dejected but earnest soul was seated in it reading his Bible, and longing to know "the better way." An angel from heaven comes to the city of Samaria, and instructs Philip the Evangelist to interrupt his work and hasten far off to the wilderness to minister comfort to that one solitary traveler.

        Yet again -- in the sea of Adria, an Alexandrian vessel has been overtaken by storm. For days the crew seem abandoned to their fate, drifting along the waves of the maddened sea. God has one loved, treasured soul in that ship, and for his sake, lo, an angel from the upper sanctuary is commissioned to speed at midnight; to whisper a word of peace and comfort to the apostle-prisoner. "There stood by me that night," said Paul, "the angel of God, whose I am, and whom I serve."
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
11. THE ANGEL'S VISIT
By John MacDuff, 1877

        Did the Church need these celestial protectors and guardians only during the period of her infancy and childhood; and did the ministry of angels lapse with the Old Testament dispensation? No; we believe, though unseen to mortal eye -- though we cannot trace their footsteps nor hear the rustling of their wings -- it is a thoroughly scriptural and comforting truth, (and never more so than in our seasons of trouble,) that we are still environed by these bright sentinels from the spirit-land -- hovering, now, over a sick-bed, now, smoothing a pillow of suffering, now, gathered amid the hush of our solemn assemblies, now, mingling with the weeping mourners at a couch of death, and bearing the ransomed soul in its arrowy flight to the upper sanctuary. It is interesting to think, that no sooner are the gates of the morning opened, than these glorified "ministering ones" are abroad on earth on their errands of love and mercy to its waiting crowds. Here is a sorrowing spirit to heal; there is a body of pain to soothe; here is an aged pilgrim struggling in the Jordan, they go to help him through; there is an infant on its tiny couch of death, they hasten to pluck the bud, to gather the lily, and carry it to the garden above.

        But to return to the sleeper. A gentle hand touches him, a gentle voice speaks to him, "Arise and eat." Partially roused, yet almost unconscious of the angel's presence, the Prophet raises himself from his pillow, and sees placed at his head -- (all the provisions which to this day a Bedouin needs) -- "a cake baked on the coals, and a cruse of water." He seems scarcely to have partaken of the provided food when sleep again overtakes him; and then a second time -- probably when morning dawned -- the gentle touch and heavenly voice are heard and felt, accompanied by the additional words -- "because the journey is too great for you." Now fully awake, the strange celestial form appears before him; and, more impressive and touching to his spirit, the celestial voice falls on his ear. It must have been like a ray of light breaking through a storm-wreathed sky, this bright messenger giving him the assurance that his God still cherished him; took a tender, loving interest in his well-being -- and, notwithstanding his miserable coward flight, had delegated a special envoy from heaven to spread a table for him in the wilderness, and whisper to him accents of comfort!

        His soul, like that of aged Jacob, revives. 'God cares for me,' is the simple thought which rekindles the smouldering fires on his heart-altar. It is to him better than all the miraculous provision. He envies not the prophets of the groves, with their dainties at Jezebel's table. He has food to eat which the world knows not of. The living Jehovah of Cherith and Sarepta is still his. He has "found him also in a desert land, and in the waste howling wilderness," keeping him "as the apple of His eye." The Prophet can make his waking song that of the sweet psalmist of Israel -- "If I take the wings of the morning and flee to the uttermost parts of the sea, even there shall your hand lead me, and your right hand shall hold me."

        It is the goodness of God which still leads to repentance. Let every trembling backslider, whose eye may fall on these pages, know the unwearying love with which that God follows you, even when, sadder far than in the case of Elijah, you can tell of weeks and months and years of guilty alienation. He finds you in the deep slumber of spiritual indifference under your juniper-tree -- some miserable, false, delusive, worldly shelter which you have deliberately preferred to "the shadow of the Almighty." How righteously might He have left you to be a mark for the poisoned arrows of the tempter, and to have slept the sleep of death! But He sent His angel of mercy -- some solemn providence, shall we say -- that with angel-touch woke you, and with angel-whisper bade you 'arise.' The warning voice was heard; but the warning was but for a moment. The old drowsiness supervened -- you were locked, as ever, in the dream of spiritual callousness and unconcern. Has He abandoned you to your fate? Has He given His angel the commission, 'Let him alone; let him sleep on now and take the final rest of despair?' No, that angel of the Lord, whether wearing the bright shining wings of prosperity, or the sable wings of sorrow, has come, like the messenger sent to Elijah, the second time, and "touched you" -- assured you of the loving interest your God has in your restoration -- addressed the monitory word, reminding you of the solemn journey before you, but pointing you to the blessed gospel provision He has made, if you will only awake and arise! Yes, "believe, only believe" in the reality of God's compassion and tenderness towards the erring -- that no father ever loved his prodigal and desired his return more, than your Heavenly Father desires yours. The divine Shepherd leaves the ninety-nine, that He may search out the one, truant, wandering sheep; and He goes after it "until He finds it."

        Mark farther, not only God's interest in Elijah, but His considerate method of dealing with His servant. He gives him first food for the body. He recruits his wasted, shattered, hunger-stricken frame, before He offers spiritual guidance or counsel. The angel stands by in silence, until the restorative refreshment had been partaken of; and then, but not until then, he speaks to him; gives him directions as to his journey, work, and duty. There is nothing more striking, did we carefully observe it, than God's wise and appropriate adaptation of His dealings to the peculiar state, circumstances, and necessities of His people. He knows the journey that is before each of them; He knows what storm, in leaving the harbor, the vessel will encounter. And as Matthew Henry, the best of commentators, says on this passage, "He that appoints what the voyage shall be, will supply the ship accordingly." Reader, take no thought, no overanxious, fretting, disquieting thought for the future. God will lead you by "the right way." If the journey be great, the strength needed will be given -- "Your shoes shall be iron and brass; and as your day is, so shall your strength be."

        Conscious of Jehovah's kindly and beneficent care, and rejoicing in it, Elijah is himself again! He springs from his couch -- and as we behold him, with pilgrim staff in hand, strong in body, and brave in soul, once more speeding along the dreary wastelands -- do we not seem to hear the solemn stillness of the desert air broken by the inspired melody of his fatherland? -- "The angel of the Lord encamps round about those who fear him and delivers them. O taste and see that the Lord is good, blessed is the man that trusts in him."
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
11. THE ANGEL'S VISIT
By John MacDuff, 1877

        It was, observe, his at once partaking of the God-given food, which enabled him to set out on his journey. To us there is a spiritual lesson in this. Many sit at the foot of their juniper-trees, moping and in despondency -- musing on their weakness, fretting themselves over their past sins -- the difficulties and trials of the spiritual journey -- and in this presumptuous despair, settle down in their old sleep of indifference, and perish miserably -- the victims of their own unreasonable doubts. Their inward disquieting thought is, 'How can we possibly live out these desert privations -- that storm by day, these drenching dews by night? Where can we get food in these dreary leagues of arid sand, or drink amid these barren rocks and waterless channels?' The angel message to all such is, "Arise! take the provided food; accept the offered gospel-terms, and trust God for all the rest. He who has provided food, will provide strength for the journey. Arise! Do the will of God, and you shall know of the teaching."

        This is true Christian philosophy. Act up to God's directions -- seek to fulfill His will, and in the very doing of that will, unbelieving torturing doubts shall take flight, and by the most convincing of all evidences -- the inward, subjective, experimental, you will be brought into captivity to the obedience of Christ. "Why are you lying on your face?" said the Divine voice to Moses, when he crouched a sceptic at God's feet, pointing to the barrier mountains behind and the raging sea in front -- "Speak to the children of Israel, that they go forward!" -- 'Up, do my bidding; and you shall see how I can make my way in the sea, and my path in the mighty waters.' Forward! said the rebuked hero, clasping the rod of faith which had been lying forgotten at his side, and rising in the might of Jehovah. Forward they did go; and what was their confession and anthem on the opposite shore? -- "Your right hand, O Lord, is become glorious in power; your right hand, O Lord, has dashed in pieces the enemy." "At Your rebuke, O God of Jacob, both the chariot and horse are cast into a dead sleep." "O Lord God of hosts, who is a strong God like unto you? You rule the raging of the sea -- when the waves thereof arise, you still them."

        On the Prophet journeys for a long hundred and eighty miles; forty suns rise and set on the desert sands, before he fixes on any resting-place. Various and conflicting motives, doubtless, had induced him to undertake this lengthened pilgrimage, and ultimately to select the spot where he now takes up his abode. While unquestionably guilty of a lamentable dereliction of duty in thus prolonging his flight; and while fear -- unworthy fear and distrust, as we shall presently see -- still clung to him and mingled with the better convictions of his newly-awakened soul -- yet he betrays also, in the very selection of his place of retreat, evidence of the recent revival of his faith in God, and of the depth and reality of his religious feelings. His predominating motive, we are inclined to believe, in directing his footsteps to Horeb, was to secure an opportunity of uninterrupted repose, meditation, and prayer; and thereby recruit alike his physical and spiritual strength. Where could he have discovered a more befitting temple? -- where, (with the exception of the sacred city of solemnities -- Mount Zion itself,) -- could he find a nobler oracle of holy thought, than among the hallowed solitudes of Sinai? -- those mysterious cliffs which, ages before the Exodus, the wandering shepherds -- the Amalekite Arabs -- had invested with dreadful sanctity as "The Mount of God," and, according to Josephus, forbade their flocks to trespass on its luxuriant pastures.

        But subsequent ages and events had made these haunts more consecrated still. The vivid emotions which we in modern days experience in visiting the Holy Land, must have been shared by the Israelites of Elijah's time with reference to the Sinai desert. It was the Holy Land of that age. The Exodus and forty years' wandering formed the grandest epoch of their historical annals. The miraculous passage of the Red Sea had been sung and celebrated by inspired minstrels in their psalms, and by inspired seers in their prophetic rolls. Elim, Marah, Rephidim, and, above all, Sinai and Horeb, (Gebel-Mousa and Gebel-Attaka,) were names and scenes of imperishable interest. Imagine the Prophet's feelings, as he approached, in evening light, the majestic summits of "the mount of God," reddened with the fiery glow of the descending sun -- each peak a hoary rugged giant, compared with the old familiar mountains of northern Palestine -- in themselves not devoid of grandeur -- Ebal and Gerizim, Tabor and Hermon, Carmel and Lebanon. He wends his way, up the frowning steep, to the cave which to this day bears his name -- probably the same from which his great predecessor saw the "glory of God." He enters the cavern -- spreads his mantle on the rocky floor, with the determination, probably, to make it for some considerable time his place of abode. He may have uttered in spirit the plaintive prayer of Jeremiah, "Oh that I had in the wilderness a hiding-place of wayfaring men, that I might leave my people and go from them, for they are an assembly of treacherous men." And if such were his longing wish, it is now fulfilled -- he has reached the sacred spot hallowed by the footsteps of Moses and the voice of God. He would be well content to say, "This is my rest; here will I dwell, for I have desired it." But his God will not leave him long undisturbed in his lonely grotto and in his willful flight. The silent echoes of his retreat are awoke as with the voice of thunder, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
12. THE DRAMA OF THE DESERT
By John MacDuff, 1877

       

        1 Kings 19:9-13

        There he came to a cave, where he spent the night.
        But the Lord said to him, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
        Elijah replied, "I have zealously served the Lord God Almighty. But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars, and killed every one of your prophets. I alone am left, and now they are trying to kill me, too."
        "Go out and stand before me on the mountain," the Lord told him. And as Elijah stood there, the Lord passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the Lord was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.
        And a voice said, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"
         

        "Our God shall come, and shall not keep silence -- a fire shall devour before him, and it shall be very tempestuous round about him. He shall call to the heavens from above, and to the earth, that he may judge his people…Hear, O my people, and I will speak; O Israel, and I will testify against you -- I am God, even your God." -- Psalm 50:3, 4, 7

        The wanderer was alone, yet not alone. A voice he could neither mistake nor misinterpret had sounded in his ears the thrilling question–"What are you doing here, Elijah?" Every syllable was pregnant with meaning and rebuke. Life (and none should know better than you) is a great doing; not hermit inaction, inglorious repose, guilty idolatry. "What are you doing here, Elijah?" -- you my viceregent in these degenerate days, you whom I have honored above your fellows, and who have had proof upon proof of my faithfulness? "What are you doing here, Elijah?" -- here in this desolate spot -- away from duty -- the Baal-altars rebuilding -- my own altar in ruins -- the sword of persecution unsheathed, and the bleating flock left by you (coward Shepherd!) to the ravening wolf? "What are you doing here, Elijah?" Your very name rebukes you! Where is God, your 'strength?' Where are the prayers and vows of Carmel? Child of weakness, belying your name and destiny, "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

        That voice is responded to by an answer in which are still mournfully blended selfish mortification, wounded pride, sceptic faithlessness -- "I have been very jealous for the Lord God of hosts, because the children of Israel have forsaken your covenant, thrown down your altars, and slain your prophets with the sword; and I, even I, only am left, and they seek my life to take it away." The question is repeated. But before this is done, God opens the volume of nature with all its grand and terrible, yet soothing influences. "The Lord is in his holy temple; let all the earth keep silence before him!" Let us take our stand with Elijah on the mount, and listen to the sublime utterances.

        Let us endeavor to picture the manifestation itself -- the HISTORICAL SCENE here described.

        Elijah is commissioned to leave the cave, and to stand in the mount before the Lord. "And behold," we read, "the Lord passed by." But the majestic Presence is preceded by a threefold manifestation -- three successive couriers or harbingers of the Divine Majesty -- storm, earthquake, fire -- three terrific voices crying in the wilderness, "Prepare the way of the Lord; make straight in the desert a highway for our God." First, "a great and strong wind splits the mountains, and broke in pieces the rocks before the Lord." A tumultuous storm swept by; the winged tempests of heaven are let loose from their chambers to wrestle with the old granite peaks -- they rush from cliff to cliff with a sound like the crash of armies in a shock of battle -- the splintered rocks lie scattered in the valleys beneath, driven to and fro as chaff in the summer thrashing-floor. Jehovah had arisen in the glory of His majesty to shake terribly the earth. "BUT," it is added, "the Lord was not in the wind." The Prophet, in trembling amazement, marvels what next was to follow. He may have expected, after this exhibition of Power, some audible expression of the Divine will; and that the "wind" was the trumpet-voice heralding its proclamation. But there was none! The hurricane has passed, the tempest is lulled, all is for a moment hushed in silence. It has left nothing but the memorials of its fury in the fragments which strew the scene of desolation.

        Again, however, a murmuring, muffled, hollow sound, reaches his ear. The sky is darkened, the earth is convulsed, the everlasting hills rock and tremble; fresh masses of stone come thundering down from the mountain summits, the leaves in the great volume of nature are again torn in tatters -- tossed in the wild elemental war; "but the Lord is not in the earthquake." What next? Is there still to be no manifestation of Love and Mercy in conjunction with Power? The Prophet gazes, but the reeling of the earth, the last symbol of terror in this sublime panorama, is only to give place to a third. "After the earthquake, a fire." In that dim twilight hour, the sky was red with flame; a lurid glow converts every mountain summit into a ruby battlement; the valley at his feet blazes like a smelting furnace. Flash, it may be, succeeds flash, of brilliant Eastern lightning. This was the most terrible of all.
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
12. THE DRAMA OF THE DESERT
By John MacDuff, 1877

        FIRE! It was the recognized emblem of Divine wrath. It was fire that was hurled down from heaven on the cities of the plain. It was fire that came forth from the Lord and consumed Nadab and Abihu, the two sons of Aaron. It was fire that burned on the top of that same Sinai when Jehovah proclaimed the decalogue. Elijah had recently seen his burnt-offering on Carmel, consumed by fire -- the symbol of that righteous vengeance, which must fall either on the sinner or on his vicarious sacrifice. There was nothing, therefore, in this last manifestation, to calm the fears of the lonely spectator. He must have bowed himself down in crouching terror in the mountain cave. There was no lullaby to his soul in this new flaming harbinger. "The Lord was not in the fire."

        But this mighty parable of nature is yet incomplete. After the fire there was "a still small voice" -- a "still soft whisper," as the words may be rendered, like the tremulous cadence of sweet music falling on the entranced ear. The Lord was THERE! Strange contrast to the hurricane and earthquake symbols which preceded it. It is a "voice" -- a "still voice " -- a "small voice." The chafed, riotous elements have rocked themselves to rest. All nature is hushed; the sky is clear; the soft evening shadows fall gently on the mountain-sides; and the Prophet's own perturbed spirit partakes of the repose. Nature's vast volume opens to a page on which is inscribed in gleaming letters -- "God is love!" It is enough. The Prophet reads! -- he adores! -- he rejoices! Wrapping himself in his mantle, he comes forth and stands at the entrance of his cave. God has set him, as He set Moses, in the cleft of a rock, and made "all His glory to pass before him." He has proclaimed His name and ever-during memorial. "The Lord, the Lord God, merciful and gracious." And Israel's illustrious prophet, like Israel's sweet singer, can now give thanks unto the living Jehovah, for He is good -- for His mercy endures forever!

        Let us proceed, however, more especially, to consider the object of this manifestation and its designed lessons. We may warrantably regard it as a great acted parable, containing important truths, alike for the Prophet and for the Church in all ages.

        We may look briefly, in the first instance, at the DESIGN of these parabolic utterances as regarded Elijah. His despondency, as we have previously noted, had manifestly arisen from a sinful and unworthy distrust of God's power. "I alone," said he, "am left." He had forgotten that even though his erroneous conclusions had been correct -- though ten thousand knees had been bowing to Baal, and the merest wreck of true-hearted Israelites had been left; still there was ONE above, who could in a moment hurl every idol from its impious shrine, and quench every flame on the apostate altars. How, then, does Jehovah recall the Prophet's better convictions? He gives him a dreadful exhibition of His might and majesty. He makes speechless nature the preacher to revive the convictions of His servant in the great truth -- that the "Lord God omnipotent reigns." He manifests Himself in the hurricane and the earthquake and the fire, so that the Tishbite could say with a deeper emphasis than the Psalmist, God has spoken once, yes, thrice have I heard this, that "POWER belongs unto God."

        These majestic symbols spoke to him with dreadful eloquence–"Poor craven-hearted Prophet! will you distrust Me after this? Can I, who have the elements in my grasp, who thresh the mountains and beat the hills as chaff -- I, who direct the volleyed lightning and give wings to the tempest -- can I not be trusted to protect your life? Why are you afraid of the threats of a mortal, when you have the God of your Fathers to stand by you? Who are you, that you should be afraid of a man that shall die, and of the son of man that shall be made as grass; and forget the Lord your Maker, that has stretched forth the heavens, and laid the foundations of the earth, and have feared continually every day because of the fury of the oppressor, as if he were ready to destroy? and where is the fury of the oppressor? I am the Lord your God, who divided the sea, whose waves roared -- the Lord of hosts is my name. And I have put my words in your mouth, and I have covered you in the shadow of my hand, that I may plant the heavens, and lay the foundations of the earth, and say unto Zion, You are my people!"

        But more than this. Although these tremendous natural phenomena preceded the Divine manifestation, it is expressly said, that the Lord himself was not in either wind or earthquake or fire. We must regard them, therefore, as conveying to the Prophet additional symbolic meaning. They were the reflected moods of his own mind -- his own impetuous turbulent self was mirrored in these agents and elements of nature. -- Earthquake and tempest and flame were the fit types of his past prophetic mission and character. He was denounced by his royal master as a "troubler in Israel;" and even in the eyes of the people he could not be regarded otherwise than as a minister of dread and terror -- an incarnation of righteous vengeance, passionate zeal, fiery courage -- at whose bidding both the natural and political horizon was black with cloud and ominous with storm. And as he had begun, so doubtless perhaps might Elijah expect that with famine and FIRE and blood, he would complete his mission, and inaugurate the regeneration of Israel. God wished to show him that all this stormy zeal -- this flaming retribution -- was not the customary method of the Divine dealing -- that judgment was His strange work -- and that a mission begun thus in terror was to end in peace -- "a mission begun with John the Baptist's boldness was to terminate with John the Evangelist's love."
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[nChrist]

THE  PROPHET OF FIRE
The life and times of Elijah, with their lessons
12. THE DRAMA OF THE DESERT
By John MacDuff, 1877

        'Enough,' He seems to say, 'Prophet of Fire. You have awoke the people hitherto with the earthquake and tempest and flame -- your battle hitherto has been that of the warrior, with confused noise and garments rolled in blood. These dreadful demonstrations may for the moment awe Jezebel's priests, and inspire the apostate nation with a salutary dread. But I wish with living power to speak to my covenant Israel. I wish to induce them to seek me in penitence and tears. This can only be effected by the ministry of love -- the still small voice!' Elijah bowed in reverence! The gentle, silent symbol has opened to him a new volume. It is as a Being of Love that 'Jehovah lives.' It invests His old motto with a new meaning. God has taught him that weak things can confound the things that are mighty. This vision and parable of Horeb might thus be translated into inspired words -- "Not by might nor by power, but my Spirit, says the Lord of hosts."

        But leaving the primary object of the manifestation in its reference to Elijah, let us regard it in its practical bearings, as an Old Testament parable of God's method of dealing with individual believers in every age. First unfolding to them the terrors of the law -- convincing of sin -- then this heraldry of vengeance, followed by the gracious offer of gospel mercy -- the "still small voice" of Redeeming love. He takes first to Sinai; displays its thunders and lightnings and curses -- manifests Himself as "the consuming fire," "who will by no means clear the guilty." Then as "God in Christ reconciling the world unto himself" -- desiring not the death of the sinner -- "waiting to be gracious."

        Cannot many, in a spiritual sense, endorse from their own experience, the truth of this great Parable of nature? Do you remember the time when God laid you on a bed of sickness -- broke up, in a moment, your dream of earthly happiness, brought you to the brink of the tomb -- and you felt that, all unfit and unprepared to die, you were standing on the verge of eternity? As you lay tossing on that fevered couch -- the dim lamp of life burning to its socket -- your mind filled with blank despair -- the past, with its ghostly visions of unrepented, unforgiven sin, rising up behind and before you in terrible memorial -- do you remember how conscience became to you a Horeb? God's Righteousness, and Justice, and Holiness, like the tempest and earthquake and fire, swept by you in terrible procession -- apparently heralding with trumpet voice, "vengeance and fiery indignation."

        But He spared you -- in mercy spared you! And, as the ebbing pulses of life began to quicken, and the gleam of glad hope irradiated your silent chamber -- do you remember that gracious ray of peace -- that "still small voice" which whispered the glad, never-to-be-forgotten accents in your ear, "Awake, you that sheep, and arise from the dead, and Christ shall give you life?" What wonders does that simple, sublime disclosure of the love of God in Christ effect, when once it breaks through the thick blinding darkness of the soul! How it sweeps every barrier down; and brings the maddened maniac -- who snapped his fetters and chains like thread, and whom no other power could bind -- to sit in lamb-like gentleness at the feet of his Divine Savior!

        When did Elijah wrap his face in his mantle and come forth from the cave? Not when the hurricane was sweeping by, or the earthquake heaving, or the fire lighting up the wilderness with lurid grandeur. It was when he listened to "the still small voice." So it is with all who have experienced the transforming power of gospel truth. It is not the overawing majesty, but the goodness of God, that leads to repentance -- not all the thunders of Sinai, not all the curses of Ebal, can melt and overpower and constrain like the believing sight of the Savior of Calvary. Here is the gospel's great principle of gravitation -- "I, if I be lifted up from the earth, will draw all men unto me." As the sun of heaven with his silent heat can bend and deflect the iron which defies the power of hammer and anvil, so with the Sun of Righteousness -- He can bend and subdue, when every other moral appliance fails -- when all other moral dynamics are powerless. Miracles, in themselves, will never convince. The most stupendous array of supernatural wonders will never melt the obdurate heart. Pentecostal marvels failed to do so; the resurrection of Lazarus and Lazarus's Lord failed to do so; just as the terrific manifestations of fire and tempest and earthquake now failed to bring the moping Prophet from his cave. But "the still small voice" was omnipotent. Yes, we need not mourn, in this age of the Church, the absence of miraculous teaching and miraculous symbols; the heavens above us no longer break silence -- the earthquake and storm are no longer employed as evangelists to teach us as they taught Elijah. But we have still, what taught him better far, the sweet tones of this gospel voice -- "Christ the power of God and the wisdom of God unto salvation to every one that believes."
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