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GAVIN ORTLUND
If you
had to pick one story in the Bible as a model of “ministry success,” which
would you choose?
Personally,
I can’t think of anything more dynamic than Elijah’s victory over the false
prophets of Baal in 1 Kings 18.
In the
space of one chapter, the prophet singlehandedly purifies the nation of
idolatry, sparks a grassroots revival among God’s people, and brings the
three-and-a-half year drought to an end.
Not a
bad day!
But we
often forget Elijah’s ministry didn’t begin that day.
Before
he could summon fire from heaven at Mount Carmel in 1 Kings 18, he had to pass through a painful
season out in the wilderness in 1 Kings 17.
In most
of our ministries, as in Elijah’s, there will be no 1 Kings 18 power without 1 Kings 17 preparation.
But
most of our ministries can likely relate better to the metaphors of 1 Kings 17: hanging on until the ravens come
again, trusting the jug and jar won’t run out tomorrow, scraping by until the
drought finally ends, wondering why God hasn’t removed corrupt Ahab, and, all
the while, waiting, waiting, waiting.
Wilderness
seasons are brutal.
But God
is powerfully at work in the 1 Kings 17 seasons
of our lives. The only question is, do we have eyes to see it?
All Alone
In 1 Kings 17:1-6, God sends Elijah to the
wilderness to be fed by the ravens.
The
Lord is sending a drought over the land — an act of judgment on the idolatry
Ahab and his Phoenician wife, Jezebel, have introduced to the nation (1 Kings. 16:30-33).
Imagine
how humbling this move would have been!
From
the heights of “it won’t rain except by my word” (verse
1) to the depths of “go hide yourself in the wilderness and
drink from a brook” (verses 2-5).
One who
has power over the highest clouds in the sky has to stoop down to a brook when
he’s thirsty.
The
most powerful man in the nation lives in total obscurity and almost barbaric
conditions.
But as
the months dragged on, I bet even worse was the season’s crushing loneliness. “It’s
not good for man to be alone” (Genesis 2:18) — yet Elijah’s all
alone, day after day, month after month.
I
picture him out there, sitting on a rock or hiding in a cave.
He has
no idea what’s happening in the outside world (no newspaper delivery at the
Cherith brook, I’m guessing).
He
must’ve felt forgotten, insignificant, like life had passed him by.
It
must’ve been like moving to rural Wyoming when you’re a city person, or posting
the biggest news of your life on Facebook and not getting a single “like.”
He
can’t even work for his food!
Further,
he’s geographically confined, since he has to stay near the brook.
So,
Elijah faces the scorching sun, day after day.
He
memorizes what the surrounding trees and sand look like as the months slowly
drag on.
He eats
the same food (bread and meat), meal after meal after raven-brought meal.
No one
to talk to, nothing to do, and nowhere to go.
By the
end of this ordeal I picture him looking a bit like Tom Hanks on the island
in Cast Away — bleached hair, bushy beard, cracked skin, and a wild
look in his eyes.
And
then, one day, the brook dries up and God sends Elijah elsewhere.
But
there’s no book contract and conference-speaking circuit after the wilderness.
God
moves him into another season of waiting and hiding as he lives with the widow
of Zarephath (1 Kings. 17:7-24).
His
ministry is limited to two people, some of the least esteemed in that culture —
a Gentile widow and her son.
And
even then, Elijah isn’t allowed to stockpile resources.
In
fact, the widow has only a handful of flour and a tiny jar of oil.
Elijah
must live by continual faith that the jug and the jar won’t run out.
Protecting, Providing, Preparing
The
hope that sustains us in wilderness seasons reminds us that God is there, doing
some of his most powerful work.
He’s at
work in Elijah’s life in 1 Kings 17 in at
least three ways: protection, provision, and preparation.
God was
protecting Elijah since Ahab had dispatched spies to kill him (1 Kgs. 18:10); seclusion in the
wilderness, then, was the only way he could be safe during this drought.
God was
providing for Elijah through the ravens, then through the continual supply of
flour and oil at the widow’s house.
The
ravens came daily, and the jug and jar never ran out.
It may
have been monotonous, but it was also a miracle. It may have felt like dying,
but it wasn’t death. God sustained him.
And
perhaps most of all, God was preparing him.
Where
did Elijah get the faith and courage he needed to stand against all the false
prophets of Baal in chapter 18?
Those
years waiting on God, experiencing his faithful care amid difficulty, must have
solidified Elijah’s faith and resolve like a diamond.
When
we’re in a wilderness season, it’s easy to lose sight of God’s protection,
provision, and preparation.
We
might even wonder, How can I trust God’s goodness when I’m in this
desolate place?
But
remember Jesus! He went through the ultimate wilderness — the desolation and
humiliation of dying under the curse of God.
If that
is the measure of God’s love and commitment to us, we can trust him in our own
wilderness seasons.
God-Centered Ministry Perspective
This
chapter, 1 Kings 17, prods us toward God-centeredness
in our evaluation as well as our execution of ministry — in both our
perspective and also our performance.
It
reminds us “ministry success” is ultimately defined as faithfulness to God’s
calling, whether the calling involves harnessing 1 Kings 18 power or doggedly hanging on
until 1 Kings 17 ends.
To be
sure, we want our lives to be maximally fruitful for kingdom work.
We feel
urgently that “the harvest is plentiful, but the workers are few” (Matthew 9:37).
But God
knows better than we do.
What if
Elijah had concluded that waiting for the ravens wasn’t bearing enough fruit,
and walked away from God’s call?
He’d
likely have never survived to see Mount Carmel.
Faithfully
executing God’s calling in modest ministry contexts isn’t selling out.
If
God’s calling has led you there, then the wilderness is the surest route to
real kingdom work.
It may
feel random, but each moment is God’s design.
It may
seem like the end of your story, but it’s really the only way the story goes
forward.
It may
taste like death, but it’s actually the path of life.
If God
has called you into a wilderness season, don’t give up.
In that
dry, choking place, in that season of barely hanging on, remember God is
watching over you.
Look
for ravens.
Trust
the jug and the jar won’t run out.
And
know he’s using this difficult season to prepare for you things ahead — things
sometimes far greater than you could ever achieve without the pain you’re now
walking through.
Gavin Ortlund (PhD,
Fuller Theological Seminary) is a husband, father, pastor, and writer. He
serves as senior pastor of First Baptist Church of Ojai in Ojai, California.
Gavin blogs regularly at Soliloquium. He is the
author of Theological Retrieval for Evangelicals: Why We Need Our
Past to Have a Future (Crossway, 2019) and Finding the Right Hills to Die on: The Case for
Theological Triage (Crossway/TGC, 2020). You can follow him on Twitter.
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