1 Kings 19:1-5 Ahab told Jezebel all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword. 2 Then Jezebel sent a messenger to Elijah, saying, “So may the gods do to me and more also, if I do not make your life as the life of one of them by this time tomorrow.” 3 Then he was afraid, and he arose and ran for his life and came to Beersheba, which belongs to Judah, and left his servant there. 4 But he himself went a day’s journey into the wilderness and came and sat down under a broom tree. And he asked that he might die, saying, “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life, for I am no better than my fathers.” 5 And he lay down and slept under a broom tree. And behold, an angel touched him and said to him, “Arise and eat.”
After one of the greatest spiritual victories in all of Scripture–calling down fire from heaven on Mount Carmel and turning the hearts of Israel back to God–Elijah finds himself blindsided by fear.
Jezebel’s threat, a single message promising his death within twenty-four hours, sends him running for his life. The same man who boldly faced hundreds of false prophets now flees into the wilderness, collapsing under a broom tree, physically exhausted and emotionally shattered.
In that lonely place, Elijah utters one of the most raw and human prayers recorded in Scripture: “It is enough; now, O LORD, take away my life.” How does a prophet fall so far, so fast? Because even the strongest among us are not immune to burnout, to despair, or the crushing weight of unmet expectations. Elijah had hoped that revival would take root, that Jezebel’s reign of terror would come to an end. But evil still held the throne, and Elijah felt utterly alone. His cry wasn’t rebellion–it was fatigue, disappointment, and the pain of believing he had failed.
We’ve all had broom tree moments–times when we’ve poured ourselves out in obedience, only to be met with resistance or silence. We’ve felt the sting of rejection, the fear that nothing we’ve done has mattered, and the quiet whisper of defeat. And yet, the beauty of Elijah’s story is not only in his honesty but in God’s response. The Lord doesn’t scold Elijah for running. He doesn’t reject his weakness. Instead, He sends an angel with food, gives him rest, and later speaks in a gentle whisper–not a rebuke, but a reassurance.
God’s heart toward the weary is full of compassion. He knows the limits of our humanity and meets us right in the middle of our brokenness. If you find yourself under your own broom tree today–overwhelmed, tired, or afraid–know this: God sees you. He’s not finished with you. The wilderness is not your final destination. It’s often the place where God begins to write the next chapter of your story, with fresh strength and renewed purpose. Let Him meet you there.
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[worthy_plugins_devotion_single_body]In these days, we have to pray for wisdom! In the letter of James, the Lord’s brother, he writes, “If any of you lacks wisdom, let him ask of God who gives to all liberally…” [James 1:5] The context for this request is trials! Since this is a time of almost constant trials, God knows we need His wisdom, more than ever.
Throughout the Bible, the faith of the saints was never something passive — but rather a faith of action.
Much of the world is dealing with the greatest disruption of their lives… probably in their lifetimes, particularly in the West, and what is known as the “First World”. Here’s a helpful perspective toward understanding what is taking place.
Continuing our exciting account of the Moravian Revival, I have to highlight the minuscule quantity of saints involved. This was, in proportion to its astounding effect, a very small group, a little church. Yet the amazing demonstration of God’s principle of power through unity re-echoes the events at Pentecost when 120 believers also were in profound unity waiting on the Lord. It wasn’t the numbers but the removal of contention and division that paved the way for a 100-year revival.
The Moravian revival, our current subject, began in the little community of Herrnhut on August 13, 1727, with a tremendous outpouring of the Holy Spirit likened to that of Acts 2. It was a work of God that would transform this group of splintered Christian settlers into a unified missionary endeavor committed to reaching the unsaved around the world.
It never ceases to amaze me how our little girl, Elianna is growing and developing. I remember when she first came into this world, she was so helpless and frail — she couldn’t even move her head without our help. Now, just having turned two, she’s running around and tumbling, jumping, singing and dancing!
We found an interesting story in an old copy of “Our Daily Bread”: In 1883 in Allentown, New Jersey, a wooden Indian — the kind that was seen in front of cigar stores — was placed on the ballot for Justice of the Peace. The candidate was registered under the fictitious name of Abner Robbins. When the ballots were counted, Abner won over incumbent Sam Davis by 7 votes. A similar thing happened in 1938. The name Boston Curtis appeared on the ballot for Republican Committeeman from Wilton, Washington. Actually, Boston Curtis was a mule. The town’s mayor sponsored the animal to demonstrate that people know very little about the candidates. He proved his point. The mule won!