Yesterday I
preached from 1 Kings 19, dealing with Elijah's depression following God's
astounding victory on Mount Carmel. Depression is the common cold of our
emotions. Eventually it touches everyone -- even God's people.
It would be nice to think
that we, as Christians, do not endure dark days, that discouragement came only
to those around us, but looking through the Bible at the great saints -- people
we laud as heroes -- we find that they also had times of despair. If we are to
experience victorious living we must, therefore, learn how to deal with
depression.
The classic
study of a depressed man in the Bible is the prophet Elijah, the iron man of the
Old Testament. Elijah lived and served during the days of the wicked king Ahab
and his sinister queen, Jezebel, who introduced Baal worship into
Israel. Elijah was the champion of orthodoxy, chosen by God
to challenge the king and the prophets of Baal and to call the nation back from
apostasy. In a contest on Mount Carmel, Elijah was God's instrument to prove to
Israel that Jehovah was the Lord. However, after that amazing victory, Elijah
sank into the depths of despair. He sat down under a juniper tree and asked God
to take his life.
A sixteenth century monk we know as John of the Cross
originated the phrase “the dark night of the soul.” He described God’s work in
us not through joy and light, but through sorrow and darkness. John of the
Cross taught that night and darkness may be the friends, not the enemies of
faith. He taught that God may lead us into a night in which our senses, that
is, our usual ways of feeling and experiencing life, are emptied. Thus, we have
no feeling of God’s presence. John of the Cross described this ‘dark night’ as
a time when those persons lose all the pleasure that they once experienced in
their devotional life, and there may follow a deep darkness of purifying and
waiting. That darkness ultimately leads to a dawn in which the vision of God is
deepened and enriched.
Longfellow said,
"Some must lead, and some must follow, but all have feet of clay." We sometimes
look upon men like Elijah as super saints. In reality he was, as the Scriptures
say, "A man of like passions even as we are." That means he was cut from the
same bolt of human cloth as we. He had the same weaknesses, frailties, and
emotions as the rest of us. Even Elijah became depressed.
These two
experiences, Elijah on Mt. Carmel and Elijah under the juniper tree, are set
side by side in Scripture (1 Kings
18-1 Kings
19).
In 1 Kings
18,
Elijah was at the height of success; in 1 Kings
19 he
wallowed in the depths of despair. In 1 Kings
18 he
stood on the mountain top of victory; in 1 Kings
19 he
had sunk to the valley of defeat. In 1 Kings
18 he
felt elation; in 1 Kings
19 he
was deflated. We are all capable of such roller-coaster
emotions.
The
1 Kings
18
records the incredible story of Elijah on Mt. Carmel. After all the preparations were
made, Elijah prayed a simple prayer and God sent fire to consume the sacrifice,
the altar, and even the water. With that event as the turning point, the people
worshiped the Lord and shouted, "The Lord, he is God. The Lord, he is God."
Then, in obedience to Elijah's command, they slaughtered Baal's prophets. It
was a high hour. Everyone knew God's hand was upon Elijah.
Elijah, however,
did not get the chance to savor his victory for very long. The very moment that
Queen Jezebel heard what happened to the prophets of Baal, she
sent Elijah a message saying, "You have killed all of my prophets; by this time
tomorrow I am going to kill you also."
When the prophet
of God read her message his heart sank and he began to run for his life. He ran
all the way to Beersheba, the southern-most city in Judah. Beersheba was the end
of civilization. Beyond it there was nothing but desert. He was getting as far
away from the queen as possible. There he left his servant, perhaps because he didn't
intend to come back, perhaps because he didn't want his servant to see what he
was really like. Then he went another day's journey into the wilderness alone.
Have you ever gotten so depressed that you didn't want anyone to see just how
down you were? Psychologists call it "withdrawing." When Elijah finally quit
running he sat down under a juniper tree and asked God to let him die. "I've
had it, Lord," he said, "take my life for I am no better than my ancestors"
(1 Kings
19:4), who had been unsuccessful in stamping out
apostasy in Israel. Elijah felt the sting of failure also.
Elijah talked
through his frustrations. While he sat in a cave feeling sorry for himself, God
asked, "What doest thou here, Elijah?" God always asks questions for which He
already knows the answers. He asked Adam, "Adam, where art thou?" God knew
where Adam was. He asked Cain, "Where is thy brother Abel?" God knew that Abel
was already dead. He asked Moses, "Moses, what is that in your hand?" God knew
that Moses had a staff in his hand. Here he asks, "Elijah, what doest thou
here?" God knew what we are doing in all situations, but sometimes wants us to
articulate it so that we understand what we are doing. God ask Elijah the question to
give him an opportunity to talk, to vent his frustrations. Then God listened
non-judgmentally as Elijah poured out his feelings of anger, bitterness and
self-pity.
Elijah felt
that God had forsaken him and that he alone remained faithful to the Lord. His
reasoning went something like this: "Here I am, doing my best to serve the Lord
and look what happened. God has forsaken me. I alone am left. It's me against
the world. Poor me." God then revealed Himself to Elijah in a new and
fresh way. He sent a tremendous wind, a cyclone, that ripped through the
mountain, but God was not in the wind. Then God sent an earthquake that shook
the whole mountain, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the
earthquake, He sent fire and lightning, but God was not in the fire. God was
not "in" these three elements, but He certainly got Elijah's
attention. Then, when there came a still small voice through
which God spoke to Elijah, he was ready to listen. The Hebrew expression "still
small voice" literally means "a voice of low whispers, a sound of gentle
stillness."
Elsewhere in the
Old Testament, wind, lightning, and earthquakes were often associated with God.
They are ways that He manifests Himself to us. Yet God chose to speak to Elijah
in a voice of low whispers. It is as if God was saying, "Just because I have not
spoken to you as I have to others in days gone by, doesn't mean I am not here."
Though God was silent, He was not absent. Though
Jezebel was thundering, she was not in control. God was quietly going about His
work. God is the God of wonders but He
is also the God of whispers. Elijah not only needed a new perspective of
God, he needed a new perspective of himself. He thought he was the only one who
was still faithful to God so God reminded him that He had seven thousand
prophets who had not yet bowed their knee to Baal. In fact, God had already
chosen Elijah's successor and He commanded him to go and anoint Elisha for this
work.
Elijah thought
he was more important than he really was. He thought everything depended on
him. We sometimes feel the same way. If God's work depends solely on you and
me, God (and the world) is in serious trouble.
When I become
overly impressed with my own importance I remember what I read recently: "If all
the preachers and all the garbage collectors quit at once, which would you miss
first?"
Elijah got back
into the mainstream of life and went to work again. God allowed Elijah to sit
in the dark cave of self-pity just so long, then He told him to get up and get
busy again. There was to be a new king of Israel and a new prophet had to be
anointed. The time for complaints and self-pity were over; Elijah needed to get
back to work. He needed the anointing of a new task.
With us, as with
Elijah, the best way to quit feeling sorry for ourselves is to start feeling
compassion for somebody else. Our Lord is the God of second chance. Lord gave
Elijah fresh anointing to overcome his depression. In fact,
he ultimately closed out his ministry in a blaze of glory as God swept down on
him and carried him into heaven in a whirlwind and a chariot of fire.
Thank God we can do the same. Despair need not be the doxology of life. It might
be the invocation. It was for many... "May those dark days make us tender
enough to keep focusing on Him."
In
Christ,
Brown
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