1 Kings 18:36-39 And at the time of the offering of the oblation, Elijah the prophet came near and said, “O LORD, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known this day that you are God in Israel, and that I am your servant, and that I have done all these things at your word. 37 Answer me, O LORD, answer me, that this people may know that you, O LORD, are God, and that you have turned their hearts back.” 38 Then the fire of the LORD fell and consumed the burnt offering and the wood and the stones and the dust, and licked up the water that was in the trench. 39 And when all the people saw it, they fell on their faces and said, “The LORD, he is God; the LORD, he is God.”
Every true move of revival begins where few look for it—at the hidden brook, in the quiet place of God’s pruning. Cherith (נַחַל כְּרִית) means to cut off, to separate, to covenant. Before Elijah could stand on Mount Carmel and call down fire, he had to be separated, set apart for God’s purposes.
Cherith was the place where God stripped away distractions, where Elijah learned to depend not on crowds or acclaim, but on the Lord’s daily provision. Like Elijah, God brings us to Cherith to prepare our hearts, to cut away what hinders His power, and to renew our covenant loyalty. Revival begins when God’s people allow Him to do this hidden work making us ready for His fire.
But Cherith is not the end of the journey. God calls His servants from the brook to Mount Carmel (הַר הַכַּרְמֶל)—the mount of decision, where revival breaks forth. Carmel, once a fruitful place, had become barren through compromise and Baal worship. Yet God chose that very place to send His fire. On Carmel, Elijah called for the fire — and God answered. The fire fell, not just for spectacle, but to burn away idolatry, to awaken a nation, and to turn hearts back to Himself: “Answer me, O Lord, answer me, so these people will know that You, O Lord, are God, and that You have turned their hearts back again.” (1 Kings 18:37). The fire of revival always falls where hearts are ready to return to God.
And the fire was not the end. Revival fire makes way for the rain. After the fire came the Geshem (גֶּשֶׁם)—the rain of restoration, the outpouring that brings life to dry ground. Elijah’s prayer brought the rain that broke the drought and healed the land. This is God’s pattern: first He sends the fire to purify; then comes the rain to restore. It is the same pattern we see in Yeshua (Jesus) — the judgment for sin at the Cross, then the outpouring of the Holy Spirit (Acts 2:16-19; Joel 2:28) to bring life, power, and true fruitfulness. Revival is the fire that prepares the way for God’s rain of blessing on a thirsty world.
So rise up, beloved! Don’t shrink back from Cherith’s pruning, don’t hesitate on Carmel’s heights, and don’t stop watching the skies for God’s rain. Now is the time to yield your heart fully—to be the one through whom His fire can fall and His rain can pour. Let your life be the spark that ignites a generation, the vessel God uses to awaken the dry bones of a nation. The God who answered Elijah with fire and rain is the same yesterday, today, and forever. He is ready to move again—are you ready to be part of His revival? Surrender now. Cry out now. The hour is at hand!
Copyright 1999-2026 Worthy Devotions. This devotional was originally published on Worthy Devotions and was reproduced with permission.
How to display the above article within the Worthy Suite WordPress Plugin.
[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]Rockets are flying through the skies of Israel and many are landing on the ground. Emails are also flying through cyberspace as people all over the world express support through prayer for us and our nation. Words cannot express our gratitude for your care and concern. In times like these the best and the worst are brought out in people: either the peace, confidence, and strength which come from faith, or the fear and panic which overwhelms the souls of worldly men.
Since moving to Israel we’ve been thrust into a Middle Eastern culture of “extreme hospitality”. The above parable from Luke takes place in a similar cultural context, and it powerfully illustrates how God wants us to approach Him.
Unless you’re up on your biology, you’re probably wondering, “What in the world is a coney?” I certainly was. After doing a little research, I discovered that a coney is a rock badger.
I ran across a profound story that shows what happens when the family structure breaks down — but this didn’t have to do with people — it had to do with elephants.
As some of you may know, a bomb exploded in a bus within blocks of our Jerusalem apartment when we first moved to Israel. That morning, my wife and I, along with our newborn baby, were heading to the city center to run a few errands when suddenly we heard the explosion. Within minutes, the sirens were screaming from every part of the city as officials quickly made their way to the scene. Later that month, the bus I was supposed to be on drove away as I watched it carry away the 50 or so people who would be critically injured and the 8 who would be dead seconds later, when that bus exploded before my very eyes. So, to put it mildly, we have seen firsthand how terrorism works and how it affects people.
We know a Christian woman who has struggled with her past for years. She rarely thinks or speaks of anything else. And as a result, her life has just spiraled downward, despite all our attempts to minister to her. It breaks our hearts to see.
Today marks Holocaust Memorial day here in Israel. At ten o’clock in the morning on this day, war sirens sound calling the entire Land to remembrance of the 6,000,000 Jews who died and many more who suffered under the Nazi regime during WW2. People in their homes and workplaces rise in silence; cars come to a halt, even on the highways; pedestrians stop where they are and pause… for one minute as the sirens wail, we remember.