Broom Tree Mercy (Pt 1)
I’ll Believe It When I See It
Recently I wrote a piece about how known and cared for we are by God. The piece talked about the kind of knowing God has of us – one that is well-informed, actively invested, and concerned. If you haven’t read that post yet, you can check it out here.
For some of you, the word that you are lovingly known and cared for by God is refreshingly new, or, a gracious reminder. Either way, it’s welcome.
For others, however, this word rings hollow for you. “Sure,” you think to yourself in your quieter, more honest moments, “God lovingly knows and cares for me, but, if he does, where is he here in the place where I need him most?”
In other words, since you don’t see him doing anything, or at least anything you perceive as good, it doesn’t feel like a helpful encouragement because you want to see his knowing, loving care in action. Simply put, words are great; follow through is better.
A Triad Kind of Care
If you resonate with the latter, I hear you. There have been times in my life when I’ve thought the same thing. Inevitably though, God shows me that his knowing and caring IS his action. That’s because his care is an adjective, describing his heart and disposition towards us, and it is ALSO a verb and adverb, describing not only what he does, but how he does it.
To put it another way, he knows and cares about you; therefore, he takes cares of you, and he does so in a caring way. It’s a triad kind of care.
It’s the kind of care God showed Elijah – one of the people he chose to have speak his words publicly and on his behalf. Whatever Elijah spoke or requested happened. Every single time. He knew great victories and heard God’s voice clearly, but he also faced a moment when, at the end of his rope, he felt utterly alone. He was in need of great TLC and God met him there.
Here is the story, as retold by yours truly, from 1 Kings 19: 1-4.
I’m Over It
A blistering wind blew. Shielding his eyes with one hand as granules of sand lashed his weathered face, the lonely figure paused and sucked in a ragged breath. Little good it did. He could not take another step.
Feeling faint, he squinted and scanned the bleak terrain for any shelter. To his left, about 200 paces away, he made out what looked like the shape of a single broom tree. It appeared to be in bloom, and he caught the subtle scent of honey as another gust of wind hurried past.
The distant shape shifted, bending to the will of the wind and the heat waves that further distorted its image. A trick of his weary eyes and troubled soul, perhaps? The surrounding, endless wilderness mocked him. He let out a sigh. Though all hope was madness to him at this point, the possibility of shade beckoned him forward nonetheless. Why not receive this one last good thing before he lay down to, with any luck, never wake again?
Throat-parched and heart-pierced, he stumbled towards the silhouette in the distance as the sun blazed overhead, fierce and unrelenting.
It was no mirage. The tree was real. Its slender branches, bowed under the weight of the white flowers, stretched their arms out in welcome to Elijah. He collapsed beneath them, face to the dust. Rolling onto his back, he looked up through the blossom-laden branches to the blue sky above. Somehow, he’d made it.
Though utterly exhausted, he managed to sit up, rubbing his face with dusty hands. The scent of the tree in full bloom brought some comfort. God had provided a good place, a beautiful place, to die. Feeling as alone as the solitary tree, he got down to business. He had one final request to make of God. His God. The one true God of Israel. The one who always heard his prayers and responded.
This was the God who had listened to his appeal to hold back rain for three years and it was so. This was the God who had heard his plea and brought back to life the little boy of the widow of Sidon. And, most recently, this was the God who had answered his prayer for fire to fall from heaven.
Today’s prayer would be different though. It would be a prayer for the end to come. He was over it. Looking out to the desert beyond, he whispered, “I’ve had enough, Lord.” A silence followed, swallowing up his words. A fresh wave of desperation flooded him and he shouted, “Take my life! I am no better than my ancestors who’ve already died.” Tired tears filled his eyes as he waited for the beat of his heart to slow and the light around him to dim.
Part 2 continued, here.
Kemi
IMPORTANT NOTE: If thoughts of suicide have been on your mind, please find resources to help below. Elijah’s honest story is a word of encouragement that God’s people also deal with this under-talked about reality.