what are you doing here, Elijah?

What is it about ministry, I wonder, that while it thrusts us into the heights of God's splendor will as soon see us drop like a rock into melancholy loneliness? It's the Elijah-like shift from the peak of Carmel to the cavern of Horeb - the breathtaking experience of God's fiery power followed by a nearly unbearable pitch-dark stillness.

I spent a good part of July preparing just one lesson, one fifteen-minute talk on God's attribute of justice. It was a blood-rushing leap of faith for me to obey that call and I felt my soul come to life in the awe of my God when I stood up to speak - and then, just as suddenly, silence.

Silence that makes it hard to write. Silence that drives me to distraction, literally. Silence that begs me to fill it up with podcasts and television and noise so that I don't have to sit with my thoughts. Silence that should be a space of rest and of meditation on the glory of God that I have seen, but that quickly spirals into self-dwelling and the fear that I am alone.

Why, God? Why do You stand there with me while I obey Your voice and then leave me in silence when the deed is done? I see You - You are there, everywhere I go - and yet You do not speak.

My God is not flippant, so surely there must be a reason for the quiet.

In 1 Kings 19, Elijah had just called the fire of the Lord down from heaven to show mastery over the pagan god Baal when he was forced to flee for his life to the wilderness. You'd think that if there were any time for God to speak, if there were any time for comfort or guidance, it would have been then. But God is quiet, silently letting Elijah rest and eat and drink, wallowing in depression and dread from the sudden drop from the highest point in his ministry to date, for more than forty days.

He doesn't speak until Elijah travels to Horeb, and then it isn't comfort or guidance, it's a question. "What are you doing here, Elijah?"

And perhaps this is the point. Perhaps the quiet comes because God believes in resting from our labors, even and especially our good ones. Perhaps the important thing, after pointing so many people toward God, is to sit down in the silence and reorient our own hearts back to Him, too.

After all, God doesn't ask questions because He needs the answer, but because we do.

What are you doing here, Hallie?

The answer might just reveal how self-oriented I've really become in the aftermath of my "big" moment of ministry, as Elijah's did.

Then he came there to a cave and lodged there; and behold, the word of the Lord came to him, and He said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He said, “I have been very zealous for the Lord, the God of hosts; for the sons of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, torn down Your altars and killed Your prophets with the sword. And I alone am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.” So He said, “Go forth and stand on the mountain before the Lord.” And behold, the Lord was passing by! And a great and strong wind was rending the mountains and breaking in pieces the rocks before the Lord; but the Lord was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the Lord was not in the earthquake. After the earthquake a fire, but the Lord was not in the fire; and after the fire a sound of a gentle blowing. When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and went out and stood in the entrance of the cave. And behold, a voice came to him and said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

1 Kings 19:9-13

Twice God asks, "What are you doing here, Elijah?" Only one thing changed in between: Elijah met God - all over again.

And perhaps this, too, is the point. Perhaps the quiet comes so that we can, as the psalmist said, be still and know that He is God. Perhaps the important thing, after we've rested, is to recognize over again the greatness and grandeur and mystery of the Lord, and that He is still bigger than it all.

This should have changed Elijah's answer to the question. It didn't - in verse 14 he repeats, word-for-word, what he said in verse 10. But he has seen God anew, and been reminded that God is not as small or weak or absent or predictable as he had allowed himself to believe while swallowed up in the darkness of the cave.

And the next thing God says an be summed up thus: "Go. I still have work for you to do. And you are not alone."

The Lord said to him, “Go, return on your way to the wilderness of Damascus, and when you have arrived, you shall anoint Hazael king over Aram; and Jehu the son of Nimshi you shall anoint king over Israel; and Elisha the son of Shaphat of Abel-meholah you shall anoint as prophet in your place. It shall come about, the one who escapes from the sword of Hazael, Jehu shall put to death, and the one who escapes from the sword of Jehu, Elisha shall put to death. Yet I will leave 7,000 in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal and every mouth that has not kissed him.”

1 Kings 19:15-18

Perhaps this is the point. Perhaps the quiet comes so that we can remember we are on a team. Perhaps the important thing, after we've rested and been reminded of who God is, is to remember that He has a plan and that it is far bigger than ourselves alone.

I've been fighting the silence for three weeks and God has been asking softly, "What are you doing here, Hallie?" It's time to rest and be still, to immerse myself in His character and move forward confidently by His direction, because I am not - I am never - on my own.