The saying is true and worthy of acceptance: When the going gets tough, the tough get going.
When problems demand solutions, when dire circumstances require commanding response, the spiritually strong step in to fill the void. But human energy and creativity are finite resources, and doing the work that God calls you to do can be discouraging, exhausting – and sometimes even lethal.
Consider the plight of the Old Testament prophet Elijah, who serves God with boldness and bravery, facing down the prophets of pagan gods and living in defiance of corrupt governing royalty. As we enter his story this morning, the throne has pronounced upon Elijah a death sentence, and he is running for his life.
He is scared to death. Indeed, Elijah wishes he could die and thus escape an impossible, no-win situation involving the nasty King Ahab and Queen Jezebel. Elijah now languishes in the wilderness – biblical code for places in which sin and brokenness are running roughshod. He feels abandoned by the God for whom Elijah has been zealous in faith and action.
But in his self-pity, a strange thing happens. While his visible world is failing him, Elijah gains access to the invisible world of faith that lives “by the conviction of things not seen” (Hebrews 11:1). An angel, an other-worldly messenger to whom Ahab and Jezebel have absolutely no access, comes to Elijah in his sleep. The messenger issues an imperative of care and nourishment: “Get up and eat.”
Ancient words, ever true: Listen to the Word that God has spoken.
When Ahab got home, he told Jezebel everything Elijah had done, including the way he had killed all the prophets of Baal. So Jezebel sent this message to Elijah: “May the gods strike me and even kill me if by this time tomorrow I have not killed you just as you killed them.” Elijah was afraid and fled for his life. He went to Beersheba, a town in Judah, and he left his servant there.
Then he went on alone into the wilderness, traveling all day. He sat down under a solitary broom tree and prayed that he might die. “I have had enough, LORD,” he said. “Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors who have already died.” Then he lay down and slept under the broom tree.
But as he was sleeping, an angel touched him and told him, “Get up and eat!” He looked around and there beside his head was some bread baked on hot stones and a jar of water! So he ate and drank and lay down again. Then the angel of the LORD came again and touched him and said, “Get up and eat some more, or the journey ahead will be too much for you.”
So, he got up and ate and drank, and the food gave him enough strength to travel 40 days and 40 nights to Mount Sinai, the mountain of God. There he came to a cave, where he spent the night. But the LORD said to him, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” Elijah replied, “I have zealously served the LORD God Almighty. But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars, and killed every one of your prophets. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me, too.”
“Go out and stand before me on the mountain,” the LORD told him. And as Elijah stood there, the LORD passed by, and a mighty windstorm hit the mountain. It was such a terrible blast that the rocks were torn loose, but the LORD was not in the wind. After the wind there was an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake there was a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire there was the sound of a gentle whisper.
When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave. And a voice said, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” He again replied, “I have zealously served the LORD God Almighty. But the people of Israel have broken their covenant with you, torn down your altars, and killed every one of your prophets. I am the only one left, and now they are trying to kill me, too.”
Then the LORD told him, “Go back the same way you came, and travel to the wilderness of Damascus. When you arrive there, anoint Hazael to be king of Aram. Then anoint Jehu to be king of Israel, and anoint Elisha to replace you as my prophet. Anyone who escapes from Hazael will be killed by Jehu, and those who escape Jehu will be killed by Elisha! Yet I will preserve 7,000 others in Israel who have never bowed down to Baal or kissed him!” (1 Kings 19:1-18)
“Get up and eat!”
Not once but twice: Rise and eat, says the angel, whose first course serves up no heavenly words of reassurance, no reminder of God’s command. The angel instead ministers to Elijah’s basic bodily needs – food and water – to prepare him for the journey that lies ahead, to Mount Horeb, where Moses received the Ten Commandments, where Elijah knows the hidden holiness of God abides.
“Get up and eat, you must go!” Back to your roots, back to the holy ground where God established a binding covenant with the people. Upon that sacred mount, Elijah judges himself zealous, at risk, and all alone.
The divine response to Elijah’s self-pity is a quite-fresh revelation of divine presence – without all the drama. Instead of grandeur like the stone tablets of Moses, all Elijah gets is “sheer silence,” as though the utter force of God’s holiness is sufficient; too deep, too dreadful for sound or speech. “What are you doing here?” heaven’s voice asks again, as if God is asking, “Are you still here?” or “Why are you still here?” Elijah answers again from self-pity: I have been zealous; I am alone; they are trying to kill me!
God then issues Elijah his marching orders: Go, return. Confront the enemy. Re-enter the fight. Get back into the fray. God’s specifics are downright chilling: Engage in political subversion, and anoint a new king, even though Ahab and the wicked Jezebell are well-established on the throne. The Lord’s emotional comfort, encouraging words, and spiritual assurance – what the woe-is-me Elijah likely sought from the get-go – come almost as an after-thought: You, Elijah, are not alone. There are still 7,000 faithful; you are not the only one. You have allies, comrades, and colleagues in your hard-fought fight of doing justice and loving kindness. (Micah 6:6-8)
That same blessed work rather seems routed and under attack these days, so we ought see ourselves and our times in this ancient scene. My first inclination is to self-pity, a sickening sense of loss and failure. My propensity is to imagine that the good Lord God of all time and place should be working harder to prosper our good efforts at humane justice and peace-making, the loving and serving of friend, neighbor, and stranger.
You, too, might – for a moment – claim the role of Elijah for yourself: so also feeling abandoned and alone in an exercise in self-pity. You do well to acknowledge such a moment – that’s just healthy self-awareness, even if the sense is fleeting. And then, you might quite innocently imagine the good gifts of God given you in your neediness. Such physical and spiritual nourishment likely are given through human intervention, through those who care for you and wish you well. Such food as a “baked cake” and a “jar of water” might be a gesture or a note; a casserole or dish of fro-yo; a smile, an embrace, a kind word – any and all things that signify solidarity and spread healing balm upon your feelings of abandonment.
If that’s where you’re at, please seek out such support and affirmation. If not, let the Spirit of God in Christ Jesus steer your course: “You must go!” It is amazing how a singular, inexplicable gesture can reframe our lives when we find ourselves on the glad receiving end of generous grace. The offer and reception of food and care come first. Only then, after that, comes the haunting question, “What are you doing here?” What are you doing in this place of self-pity and weeping discouragement?
The question in its ancient form and in its present delivery is in fact a hopeful assertion: “This is not your rightful place.” You do not belong here. You are not destined to languish in self-pity. The prophet is twice-permitted the luxury of naming and claiming his abandonment. But the hallowed voice of God turns answer to imperative: Go and stand on the mount before me. Then go back to your proper and rightful place in my long story of redemption. You can linger here in self-pity only so long, then you must remember your call and perform your duty.
Thus Elijah is freshly dispatched back to his dangerous work by the One who extends lordly authority over him. Elijah’s only encouragement is the assurance that 7,000 others stand alongside in solidarity, slow-but-certain articulation of divine intent in the public process. We are, sooner or later, returned to the good work of humane justice and loving kindness. But first, get up and eat.
Which is why, shortly, the Lord will extend you gracious invitation: Come to the table.
Which is why, later in the service, we will commission Konnor Krambeer as he leaves our midst to begin his long-dreamed career in law enforcement – the noble labor of doing justice and loving kindness. So, Konnor, when the time comes, get up and eat. Then go in peace, and get to work.
Which is why, next Sunday, we will be commissioning our volunteers who will be offering time and talent in the compassionate, ecumenical labor of feeding the kids at Zion UCC. If you are among them, among those cooking up nutritional justice and serving up loving kindness, come and eat at the Lord’s Table. Then go in peace, and get to work.
The invitation is for all, in whatever role the Lord calls you to play: Come to the table, get up and eat, be sustained for the many uphill challenges that lie ahead. Get up and eat. Then get up and go, even if – and especially when – your task is surely exhausting and potentially dangerous.
The Word of the Lord. Thanks be to God.
Pastor Grant M. VanderVelden shared this message during worship on Sunday, July 20, 2025, at First Presbyterian Church in Waukon, Iowa, USA. The service included celebration of communion at the Lord Table. Scholarship, commentary, and reflection by Walter Brueggemann and Roger Nam inform the message. Artwork is by Ally Barrett and Daniele da Volterra.