Elijah in Hiding: Part 1

I have been studying and meditating on 1 Kings 19. I encourage you to read it yourself, but I will tell it to you in my own words and offer you two of the things that have impacted in my heart:

Elijah had just come down from Mount Caramel, where he had made visible for Israel that YHWH was the one true and living God and that Baal, the false god they had been worshiping was not. Following this, all 450 prophets who were perpetuating this idol worship in Israel were put to death….and when the wicked King Ahab went home and told his wicked queen Jezebel the events that had unfolded that day, she didn’t bend the knee and declare YHWH to be God as the people of Israel had, instead, she vowed that she would kill Elijah THAT DAY.

Remember how it says that “Elijah was a man just like us” [James 5:17]? Well, even though he had just stood in front of all of Israel and watched the fire he had called down completely consume the offering and the stone altar it sat upon…Elijah was afraid and he ran.

For an entire day he ran deeper and deeper into the wilderness until he came to a broom tree where he curled up in the dirt beneath it and asked the Lord to take his life before Jezebel did. “I’m done, Lord, take away my life; I am as good as dead anyway.” And then he slept.

He was woken from his sleep by the touch of an angel who had brought him a meal. He was woken a second time when the angel told him, “Arise and eat, for the journey is too great for you.” So Elijah arose and ate and set out. Here is where we find out why he had run into the wilderness…it wasn’t just to die, he had a destination in mind and it would take 40 days to get there. He was headed to Mount Horeb (Also known as Mount Sinai, the mountain of God).

My first meditation comes from this half of the story. I found it worth considering what Elijah was running FROM and where he was running TO:

Elijah ran FROM the source of his fear. Jezebel was evil. From Elijah’s perspective she has successfully destroyed God’s prophets, His altars and the fear of God in the hearts of Israel. We all have things in our life that cause our feet to scurry in search of safer ground.

Elijah ran TO Mount Horeb. This was the Mountain of God. The same mountain where the Lord first spoke to Israel, where He met with Moses and gave him a glimpse of His glory, where He wrote the law in stone with His own holy finger. Ahab and Jezebel could tear down the altars and the people, but they could not destroy this mountain. This mountain reminded Israel that God meets with His people, and Elijah wanted God. This was no directionless running, he was was heading to the place he knew God had revealed Himself to His people before.

Man, I love that. Even though we see Elijah fleeing in fear, we see that the physical course his feet took was the same path that his spirit took when his vision was clear. His muscle memory, formed by years of looking intentionally to the Lord, instinctually brought him when he was in “flight” to where he needed to be: Where his Lord could be found. I know that God cannot be contained in a temple made by human hands—he’s not confined to a mountain or constrained beneath a steeple—but I know what it’s like when I can’t see Him to find myself wanting to go where I know He has been.

Psalm 84:5 “Blessed are those whose strength is in you, in whose heart are the highways to Zion.”
Psalm 71:3a “Be to me a rock of refuge, to which I may continually come.”

May I be a woman whose mind and heart and feet make their way continually to the Lord; may the grooves of my feet and the highways of my heart be so deep that even when my fear pushes me to run and hide, the course I take brings me straight to Him.

The widow's faith

We’re on 1 Kings 17:7–24 in BSF. It’s a familiar story of Elijah and the widow, but I can’t seem to shake it this time. I usually hear people talk about this story in a way that somehow glosses over the depth of it, or fixes its eyes on Elijah's portion…but my considerations have been of the widow. I have been processing through why I can’t seem to move my heart past her and here is where I have landed in regards to why my heart reverberates with this widow and her walk:

Let me tell you this story in my own words. Elijah had been living near a brook during a drought and the Lord had been sustaining him in miraculous ways…until the brook dried up. Then the Lord sent him to another place with the assurance that He had “told a widow to feed him there.” So by faith, Elijah went where the Lord sent him, and there he found a widow, just as the Lord said. From a distance, he called out to her and asked her for something to drink, and the widow’s like, “I’ll go get you some water.” But then he asks for something to eat. And the widow recognizes that this is the man God sent for her to feed, and she says, ”Look, Man of God, I haven’t prepared for your coming or made you any bread. Do you want to know what I’ve chosen to do right now instead? Every day I’ve been watching my food supplies run out as I look into the face of my hungry son. Today I am on the very last of what I have, so I’m getting sticks to build a fire and have one last meal with my son before we die from lack.” Can’t you just hear the weariness in her words? But in that moment where she had run out of faith, Elijah brought enough for them both, and he said to her, “Do not fear. Go ahead and make that bread, but before you eat it with your son, give me a little portion first. Because here is the Lord’s promise to you, ‘The jar of flour shall not be spent, and the jug of oil shall not be empty, until the day that the Lord sends rain upon the earth.’” Basically, if you walk by faith now, you will reap reward. So the widow did what Elijah requested. And the Lord blessed her faith.

But it says after many days, the widow’s son died. And she went to Elijah and poured out her frustration and despair, “This is on you! Your presence here does not strengthen my faith, it simply reminds me of the weight of my epic doubt, and even as I have walked daily in obedience to the command of the Lord, now He has taken away my son. It would have been better had we died together before this miracle.” 

And Elijah, he didn’t rebuke her or argue with her…he was a man who knew the pain of finding hardship on the path of obedience. He simply took her son, and stormed the throne room on her behalf. For many days he had watched her life, had eaten at her table, had bore witness to the growing discomfort of receiving a miracle her faith did not earn her. I love how without reservation, he poured out his confusion and desperation to God. “Lord, NO! Why would You take away her son?! There has been too much loss, bring him back to her, Lord. Give this weary woman back her child.”

And the Lord listened to the voice of Elijah, and He allowed him to return to the widow with her son, not in his arms, but by his side. Elijah said, “See, your son lives.” And the widow said, “Now I know that you are a man of God, and that the word of the Lord in your mouth is truth.”

I resonate SO hard with this widow. I know what it feels like to be facing lack and clinging to the thing you desperately want to flourish with no idea how to proceed. And then from that place the Lord saying, “I want more from you.” 

I remember the moment the ultrasound tech looked up at me with her wand on my abdomen and said, “There are 2 babies.” I went home and lifted my hands up to the Lord and said something along the lines of, “What are You doing?! Why in the world would You call me to carry TWO children when You KNOW that my physical body barely makes it out of single pregnancies alive…and even though I have survived thus far, two of my babies have not. I am a broken incubator, and I (and/or both of these babies) am going to die because of what You have called me to.” I did not faithfully stride forward in my twin pregnancy, I “gathered sticks” and wrestled my fear. And when the Lord brought me a word of promise, I did not watch with expectation, I watched with genuine curiosity at how He would carry my body to the end of the pregnancy…how He would draw from my lack what was required to grow two babies…because I knew the facts, namely, that I did not hold what was required to bring it to fruition. I lived. Jane and Sia lived. And my body, the thing that bore the physical strain of carrying two humans, thrived through what it never should have been able to endure. 

But let’s look again at the widow’s journey. Elijah’s presence and the daily miracle, it didn’t magnify the widow’s faith, it reminded her that she doubted God when He called her; it ate away at her that she hadn’t been stronger, hadn’t trusted God more, had counted Him too small. And when her son died, she couldn’t quite bring herself to ask the God she had doubted for another miracle…and so she reached for the faith of the man who she knew could. By faith, he brought back her son to her with breath in his lungs and life in his bones, and his word “see…” pushed through the veil of shame and drew her faith from flailing to flourishing. “Now I know…”

My body—the thing that endured against all odds only by the promise and power of God—it has crashed and burned since the babies’ birth. Failure and weakness seem to have spoken the final word over it, it grimaces up from the dust wondering how the God who called me to such a task would leave me in such a condition when I had looked to Him every day—imperfectly, yes, but wholly nonetheless. I find myself looking around, eyes searching for the one who will let me lean upon their faith-filled shoulder, who believes that the grim realities of earth are no hindrance to the God who made it, who will charge the gates of heaven on my behalf and cry out to the Lord who loves us both and say, “No! Give this weary woman back her health.” 

 

Because I am waiting. I am waiting for the moment of return…where the word “see” makes visible, and the “knowing” brings about the testimony I was promised.

I find encouragement in this widow. I may not yet be able to muster up the faith of Elijah as he stands on the top of a mountain beside a multitude of false prophets calling down fire on a sopping wet altar…but I can wrap my head around the faith of the weathered widow. I love that God brought together this unlikely pair of worshipers and used them in each others lives. Because I am certain that it is not an accident that for Elijah, the journey beside the widow preceded the altar on the mountain.

Over the Waters

It's been a season where I feel like I'm caught in a perpetual rain storm, I know that when it stops raining the scene that will be in front of me will be full of beauty...I can feel the impending thrill of a new season. But the transition has been long and arduous. I've found myself pulling up a chair in the presence of the One who separated the waters in Genesis 1, who parted the waters in Exodus 14, who opened rocks and earth to draw water up from the depths of the earth (Exodus 17) and broke open clouds to make it pour down from the sky (Genesis 7), who brings the rain as easily as He stops it (1 Kings 18), and manages the waves of oceans (Job 38). This song comes from my time in this chair:

i stand
in falling waters
they pour upon my head
i look
through blurry vision
eyes searching for what Your said
for I know
who You are and
i know on
Whom I stand
my voice rings out
through sounds of thunder
to the One who holds me
by my right hand

Part the waters
like You’ve done before
separate the waters
by the power of Your word
order the waters
make them pools beneath my feet
You bring order to the chaos
for the waters bend to Your authority

i stand
in falling waters
they pour upon my head
i look
through blurry vision
eyes searching for what You said
for I know
You are truth and
I know I
will not fall
my voice cries out
through rushing torrents
to the One who keeps me
Lord over all

Part the waters
like You’ve done before
separate the waters
by the powers of Your word
order the waters
make them pools beneath my feet
You bring order to the chaos
for the waters bow to Your authority

In the beginning

He always brings me back to the beginning. Not of my life, but of life itself. He lifts me up from the deepest caverns of my most painful wounded being and sets me upon His shoulder so that I can watch Him create all that exists. “In the beginning, Elohim created the heavens and the earth.” (Genesis 1:1). “Watch.” He whispers, “Listen to My voice, see what springs from My authority and reverberates off of this great void with crescendos of My glory. Behold My intention, be moved by My love, gape at the splendor of My making, bend your knee at the magnitude of My power.” And in the keeping of this holy, holy, holy God, I immerse myself into the wonder of His name.

i am Your idea, Elohim
    i am not Your afterthought
    i am by design, not by accident
    the result of a good Creator’s
    careful hands

Every day ordained;
    His breath in my lungs and
    His Spirit in my body
    Born twice as His own

i am not lesser
    i am loved
i am not unacceptable
    i am intended
i am not unwanted
    i am called and appointed
i am not undesirable
    i am redeemed

From the vantage point upon His mighty shoulder, I renounce every thought and word that has scratched itself upon my being—inside and out—the poisonous lie that the One who knit me together did not do good work. For into the marvel of the earth that surrounds me, I have been placed by Sovereign hands.

Holy Blood for tainted flesh

deliverance
©5-7-2022 hannah mclean

i can feel the turning
of the tides that wouldn’t let up
i can hear the falling
of the chains that wouldn’t release
i can smell the changing
of the seasons that have brought perpetual decline
i can see the glories
of the hidden mysteries of His heart

who are you,
o enemy of Christ’s beloved,
to stop the Finished Work
from hitting its mark?

for what is it that poured with such a force
to push back the tide i couldn’t bear up against
to break the chains i could not pry apart
to change the days from barren to fruitful
to pull aside the veil to reveal the depths and heights?

it’s the Blood
Holy Blood for tainted flesh
Redeeming Blood for bloody curse
Blood that speaks a better word
the final word
with authority that makes you flee
carrying your workmanship away with you

and so i feel and hear and smell and see
i let the waters shift
the power move
the seasons transform before my eyes
where years of faith give way to sight
and endless darkness give way to light
and i lean in
into the wonders coming
from the fullness of the Finished Work
i have longed and labored to lay hold of

Biblical Women

I saw this post yesterday @sketchysermons, and it made me smile. I’ve been on an intentional journey since 2018 to gain an understanding of what “biblical womanhood” looks like; in part because I have been healing from the damage done to my femininity by my childhood church during critical ages of development, but also partly so that I can articulate to my children God’s view of women. In general the Church exalts the Marys of the Martha’s sister variety, quietly learning at the feet of Jesus, and the Ruths with their devoted, servant hearts. But scripture has a lot more to say about the women God made and chose to include on the pages of His holy book than this woefully limited (though lovely) box has room for. Personality and matters of the heart are two different things, and the exclusion of the former from discussions surrounding womanhood has been detrimental to the dignity of women in the body of Christ because many of us find ourselves disqualified before we’ve even set foot on the ground. This tiny sketch breaks down the sides of the box we’ve set up and forces us to reconsider its boundaries.

This sketch speaks of Jael, who was honored when she drove a tent peg through the skull of Sisera, the commander of a wicked king’s army, with such force that it plunged into the ground beneath it. There’s twice I can think of (1 Samuel 25 and 2 Samuel 20) where one single woman faced entire armies on full-force revenge missions and stopped them from causing mass destruction. The apostle Paul, who wrote a large portion of the new testament, honors the women who worked side-by-side with him in the spread of the gospel—supporting financially, laboring physically, and even, in the case of Phoebe, going on a dangerous mission to bring one of his letters into Rome where Nero was in the process of lighting believers on fire for entertainment purposes. The church needs to remember Jesus doesn’t just affirm Mary, He affirmed her sister Martha (John 11:5) whose bold personality may have made it hard for her to sit still, but it certainly brought with it a propensity to get things done. The Lord highlights a great variety of personalities and propensities including prophetesses, business women, teachers, former prostitutes, a deaconess and even a female apostle (Romans 16:7) highly respected among the disciples.

I’m still gathering my words, but I can say with full confidence that it is not scripture that minimizes or demeans women—the womanhood we see in the Bible is quite a beautiful, dynamic thing to observe—instead, it is human explanations, though often well-intentioned, that continue to do the greatest damage. So if you are on your own journey, I encourage you to set aside the teachings you’ve gathered, and do your own wrestling with God through the pages of the Bible, starting at chapter 1 of Genesis, with the understanding that a good God, who does good work, in love formed woman in His own image. And whether you are the type of woman God created to tend a home or to build a house, to mother a child or to disciple a neighbor, to gently hold the hand of the weak or to curl your fingers around a tent peg, you will find that Biblical Womanhood includes your personality type. And as for heart posture, Jesus will align and refine us with His Word by His Spirit as we abide in Him.

And that is all for now. But, if you see me with this sticker somewhere on my person, you will know why. :)

The days of waiting

Holy Week ponderings:

It’s a day of waiting.
It seems to be intentionally placed;
between the horrors of Friday and the wonders of Sunday.
A day to grieve and to remember and to ponder.
It’s like the Lord sat His followers down lest they fight or flee;
Peter gave us a glimpse onto both of these paths
with the swinging sword
and the rooster’s crow.
A sabbath.
Rest up, He seemed to insist,
the real work is coming.

It’s a day of waiting.
My mind keeps wandering to Mary Magdalene.
I sit beside her with her wringing, wondering hands;
hands that had been redeemed for anointing and for honoring.
Mary wanted to be with her Lord;
in His life she had been by His side,
close enough to wipe His feet with her tears
and close enough to hear the whisper of His thirst.
In His death she resisted still the separation.
But the sabbath forced her feet to stay
when apart from Him is not where she longed
to linger.

It’s a day of waiting.
They had a promise, you know.
He told them what would be:
Death by crucifixion
and three days later
risen to new life.
Peter wouldn’t accepted it;
he rebuked the truth
and waged war on hands that bound and led away his Lord
to fulfill His purpose.
But sometimes it’s the times of waiting after the horrors of Friday
that dig out of us the faith
to hope in the promise of Sunday.

These intentionally placed days of waiting…
may we not waste them.