Study 6 - Into the Crucible

I wonder if Elijah opened his Bible dictionary and looked up ‘Zarephath’ to find out the Hebrew derivation. If he had, he would have discovered that Zarephath means ‘crucible’ or ‘place of testing’. As he strolled around the neighbourhood, I don’t suppose he gave the name of the town a second thought. After all, he’d won a great battle of faith and God was supplying the food he’d promised. Things were beginning to settle down. Little did he know that God was about to hot them up – in the crucible.

Suddenly there was a crisis. The widow’s son died. She’d already lost her husband and now even her son was being snatched from her. In her agony of soul she turned on Elijah and blamed him. ‘What do you have against me, man of God? Did you come to remind me of my sin and kill my son?’ (1 Kings 17:18). People who are in heartbreaking situations often lash out, saying, ‘This is God’s judgement on my life.’ And Elijah, who’d brought faith, blessing and godliness into the woman’s home, found himself facing tragedy and hostility.

Identification
The prophet didn’t retaliate. He didn’t rebuke her for her anger, and neither did he say, ‘Well, I’m very sorry to hear about your son. But, you understand, I’m concerned about the state of the nation. I really haven’t got time to deal with issues of lesser importance.’ He didn’t say, ‘I’m sorry about your problem. Naturally I’ll pray about it.’ Elijah’s response was amazing. He said, ‘Give me your son’ (1 Kings 17:19) – ‘give your problem to me.’ Later Elijah took a national problem onto his shoulders when he stood on Mount Carmel and said to the Israelites, ‘Come here to me’ (1 Kings 18:30). ‘I’ll carry the weight for you. Come to me.’

If I’d been prepared to help the widow, I’d probably have asked her to lay her son on the sofa or on his own bed. After all, he was dead, and although I might have been willing to pray, I wouldn’t have wanted to identify so wholeheartedly with the crisis and make it my own. But Elijah didn’t respond this way. He picked up the boy, carried him upstairs and put him on the bed where he himself slept. ‘I will not shrug off your problem,’ he implied. ‘I’ll identify with it. I’ll take it on myself. I’ll carry it for you.’

Then Elijah ‘stretched himself out on the boy three times and cried to the Lord’ (1 Kings 17:21). There was probably no significance in the number of times the prophet lay on the boy. Later, on Mount Carmel, Elijah told his servant seven times to check the sky for rain. There’s unlikely to be any significance to this number either. The fact is that on both occasions Elijah prayed as long as it was necessary for God to do the work. ‘No answer yet,’ he thought. ‘I won’t let go of this. I’ll just keep on interceding until God answers. I’ll take the responsibility.’ And in secret God fashioned his servant for his future public ministry. The popular notion is that maturity comes with age. Not true: you get old with age. Maturity comes with the acceptance of responsibility.

Compassion
We often want to be in the limelight. ‘Isn’t it about time you used me in a more public way?’ we protest to God. ‘My ministry isn’t being adequately recognised.’ But what have we proved about ourselves secretly? What have we done that no one but God and a widow know about? While the national battle rages on, God wants to hide us away like Elijah and prepare us in humble surroundings, far away from the big platform.

God is looking for people who will reach out where others are hurting, people who’ll say, ‘I’m here to help you. Give your burden to me.’ Maybe he wants you to get to know one individual, someone who just can’t cope with life. How do you react to that? Will you say, ‘Yes, I’ll do it; give me the problem; I’ll hold it; I’ll give myself to it’? Are you sure? Can you put a corpse on your bed?

If we can’t stay with God in the secret battles, how can we expect God to trust us in the more public ones? If you want to be used mightily by God, you must be willing to let him hide you away in his quiver, willing to let him sharpen you through times of testing, willing to let him polish into you the lessons he wants you to learn. If you’ll allow God to deal with you like this, there’ll come a day when he declares, ‘That’s enough training. I’m taking you out. I’m putting you into my bow and giving you the visibility you can now handle.’

Quote
‘I choose the poverty of our poor people. But I am grateful to receive (the Nobel) in the name of the hungry, the naked, the homeless, of the crippled, of the blind, of the lepers, of all those people who feel unwanted, unloved, uncared-for throughout society, people that have become a burden to the society and are shunned by everyone.’
Mother Teresa, accepting the Nobel Peace Prize, 1979