Skip to main content

Hearing God in the Silence

My previous post focussed on a monologue based, in part, around the Gospel reading in last Sunday's lectionary, which I used in the Radio Ulster Service at 10.15am that morning. 45 minutes later I was back in the Agape Centre where we had previously recorded that service, preaching on the same passages for our Livestreamed Circuit service. I didn't subject them to exactly the same sermon and instead of reading the Old Testament passage I offered a rehearsed reading of the following longer monologue which was based on that story and what immediately preceded it. Below the monologue you can see the service, with my "performance" of the piece at around 4 minutes 15 seconds in.

It should have been my moment of triumph… God’s moment of triumph… But it quickly turned into the worst days of my life… I couldn’t understand it… why God would let it happen.

After years of warning Ahab and his pagan wife Jezebel that it would not rain unless they honoured the Lord God of Israel, I had defeated over 450 of the hateful priests of Baal and 400 of Jezebel’s tame prophets of Asherah on top of Mount Carmel… We set up a competition to see it they could get their gods, to send down fire and consume the sacrifices they offered. Thousands had gathered to watch, and for hours these charlatans pleaded with their deaf gods… they cut themselves as a sign of their dedication… They danced and wept and wailed  at the tops of their voices… And I stood and laughed… I shouted “What’s wrong?” Is your god indisposed? Is he on the toilet and unable to answer your call right now? Or has he gone on holiday? That only drove them into greater frenzy… until eventually the dropped to the ground. Exhausted.

So then it was my turn. I had them set up another altar. And not only did I have them put the sacrifice on it, I goot them to douse it in water… Then I prayed with the eyes of the watching crowd staring at me. I didn’t dance around or make a big song and dance about it. I simply said “Answer me, Lord, answer me, so these people will know that you, O Lord, are God, and that you are turning their hearts back to you again.’

Then the fire of the Lord fell and burned up the sacrifice, the wood, the stones and the soil, and sucked up all the water around the altar.

Well with that the people went wild… and I commanded them to kill the pagan priests and prophets…

And when the slaughter had abated I told the King… now that God has re-asserted his authority in this land it will rain… And a tiny cloud formed on the horizon… and started to fill the sky… And before you knew it rain was teeming down…

But I didn’t have long to enjoy my victory, because King Ahab fled back to his scheming wife, and the next I knew she sent a messenger to me saying ‘May my gods deal with me severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not slaughter you the way that you slaughtered the priests of Baal and the prophets of Asherah.’

And I was afraid… The gods she served may have been idols, but Jezebel wasn’t one for idle promises... she had been shaped by her bloodthirsty gods… So I ran for my life. I went a full day’s journey into the wilderness beyond Beersheba, and I collapsed exhausted beneath a broom bush.

“O God let me die.” I prayed.  “I’ve had enough, Lord… I’ve done enough for you. Take my life… let me go the way of my ancestors.” And I fell asleep not expecting to wake up again, and hoping I wouldn’t…

But the next morning I felt a touch on my shoulder… there was no-one there… But I heard a definite voice saying “Get up and eat.” And just there beside me was some stone baked bread and a jar of cool clear water. I have no idea where they came from but I was so thirsty I gulped down some water and had a few morsels of bread, before lying down again.

But again I felt a touch on my shoulder and again I heard a disembodied voice saying “Get up and eat, for the journey is too much for you.” So I got up. Ate the rest of the bread and finished off the water, and strengthened by the food and drink I set off on a journey deeper into the wilderness. Forty days and forty nights I travelled until I reached Horeb, the mountain where God had met with Moses… And I found a cave and crawled into it totally spent.

But yet again I heard a voice speaking to me saying “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

And at that I just cracked… I said “Lord, if you are all knowing then you will know that I have been I have been dedicated to your service O Lord God Almighty. Your people rejected your covenant… But I didn’t… They tore down your altars… But I sacrificed everything for you…. They put all your other prophets to the sword and I am the only one left… Now they are trying to kill me too.’

The voice said, “Go out and stand on the mountain in the presence of the Lord, for I AM  about to pass by.”

And a whirlwind tore across the mountainside scattering and shattering the rocks around me. But I had no sense of the Lord  in the wind.

Then the earth began to shake and quake. The cave in which I had lain seemed like it might collapse and become my tomb. But again I had no sense of the Almighty in the earthquake. 

After the earthquake a fire came raging up throught e trees that fringed the mountain… I could feel the hairs singe on my head, but I had no sense of the Lord in that fire.

But after the fire came sheer silence. Cutting through everything. And in it I heard the voice of God.

“What are you doing here, Elijah?” the voice asked again, and I repeated my complaints, but I heard them for what they were this time… self-pity.

And in response, God ignored them…

Instead he said… “It’s time to go back and get back to work… I have kings for you to anoint and a successor for you to appoint.”

And I did…

To serve  the God who speaks, not in the spectacular… but in silence. 



Shalom

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

A Woman of no Distinction

Don't often post other people's stuff here... But I found this so powerful that I thought I should. It's a performance poem based on John 4: 4-30, and I have attached the original YouTube video below. A word for women, and men, everywhere... "to be known is to be loved, and to be loved is to be known." I am a woman of no distinction of little importance. I am a women of no reputation save that which is bad. You whisper as I pass by and cast judgmental glances, Though you don’t really take the time to look at me, Or even get to know me. For to be known is to be loved, And to be loved is to be known. Otherwise what’s the point in doing either one of them in the first place? I WANT TO BE KNOWN. I want someone to look at my face And not just see two eyes, a nose, a mouth and two ears; But to see all that I am, and could be all my hopes, loves and fears. But that’s too much to hope for, to wish for, or pray for So I don’t, not anymore. Now I keep to myself And by that

Psalm for Harvest Sunday

A short responsive psalm for us as a call to worship on Harvest Thanksgiving Sunday, and given that it was pouring with rain as I headed into church this morning the first line is an important remembrance that the rain we moan about is an important component of the fruitfulness of the land we live in: You tend the land and water it And the earth produces its abundance. You crown each year with your bounty, and our storehouses overflow with your goodness. The mountain meadows are covered with flocks and the valleys are filled with corn; Your people celebrate your boundless grace They shout for joy and sing. from Psalm 65

Anointed

There has been a lot of chatter on social media among some of my colleagues and others about the liturgical and socio-political niceties of Saturday's coronation and attendant festivities, especially the shielding of the anointing with the pictured spoon - the oldest and perhaps strangest of the coronation artefacts. Personally I thought that was at least an improvement on the cloth of gold canopy used in the previous coronation, but (pointless) debates are raging as to whether this is an ancient practice or was simply introduced in the previous service to shield the Queen from the TV cameras, not for purposes of sacredness, but understandable coyness, if she actually had to bare her breast bone in puritan 1950s Britain. But as any church leader knows, anything performed twice in a church becomes a tradition. All this goes to show that I did actually watch it, while doing other things - the whole shooting match from the pre-service concert with yer wumman in that lemon-