Elijah was afraid and ran for his life. When he came to Beersheba in Judah, he left his servant there, while he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness. He came to a broom bush, sat down under it and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, Lord,” he said. “Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.”

Elijah was a hero on the run, pressing deeper into the wilderness. Back at Mount Carmel, Baal was exposed as a mere figment of the imagination; his hundreds of prophets were massacred. Then, a coastal deluge ended years of rainless springs and summers. Still, the king’s wife wanted to kill Elijah in the same way the prophets of Baal had been murdered.  Never mind that all morning long atop Mount Carmel, Baal was silent, though the people danced and cut themselves, desperate for their false god to be real. Never mind that God burned up his water-drenched sacrifice at Elijah’s first call. Jezebel still wanted Elijah dead. Elijah, hidden in the wilderness beneath a broom bush, told the Lord, “I have had enough,” (1 Kings 19:4, NIV). Have you prayed that prayer? I have.  

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I’ve had days when the pressure is too heavy. The daily, perilous art of learning to see life as it really is can be such a drag. Everything we see, touch, smell, taste, or hear this side of Heaven falls short of what our souls crave. We disappoint and hurt one another. The very worst happens. Good times fade into memory, and even our memories fail us. We might be the hero one hour, and despised the next, as Elijah was the day God showed up. Never mind Elijah’s brave obedience. Never mind God’s victory. Elijah’s countrymen wanted him dead. “‘Take my life—I’m ready to join my ancestors in the grave!’ Exhausted, he fell asleep under the lone broom bush” (1 Kings 19:5, MSG).

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Face to face with Elijah and his dark emotions, God was not offended. He was not disappointed. He was not afraid. He did not lecture, and he did not try to cheer Elijah into a better mood. In his infinite wisdom, he let Elijah sleep. And as he slept, he prepared bread and water for him, delivered by an angel.

God meets us in the same way. He sees us just as we are, right where we’re at, and, knowing just what to do, he gently and expertly ministers to our spirits. It might feel like physical rest or a deluge of mercy to end spiritual drought. It might taste like a warm meal prepared and delivered by a dear friend or nourishment from a Scripture passage long neglected. It might sound like encouragement to keep going and the promise that we are never alone. And just as Elijah accepted God’s help, may we accept God’s help in our darkest hours.

Dear Lord, you are the only source of Light able to dispel soul-deep darkness. May we courageously tell you just how we feel, no matter how scary those feelings are. Please be close and minister to us as gently and expertly as you did Elijah. May we perceive and accept your help. I praise you for your wisdom and your great love for us! Thank you for being our refuge and Light. In Jesus’ name, amen.