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]I came across an old article about "fake physicians". According to this article, many American citizens could be receiving medical treatment from doctors who lied on their medical school loan applications and used the money to pay a broker for fake documents. One guy was arrested and later admitted that he was paid beaucoup bucks to hand out approximately a hundred phony medical documents claiming that his clients completed their training! Can you imagine?!
I came across a powerful parable written by a Haitian pastor illustrating to his congregation the need for total commitment to the Lord.
Yesterday, actor Robert Clary of Hogan's Heroes fame passed away at the age of 96. Upon reading his autobiography, Mr. Clary was the youngest of 14 children. However, 10 of his siblings were tragically killed during the Holocaust. He survived his captivity in the Buchenwald Concentration Camp in 1942. Upon reading his story, and with thanksgiving coming this week in the United States reminded me of another story by Corrie Ten Boom, a Christian survivor of the Holocaust because of her willingness to protect Jews during World War 2.
Scottish minister Alexander Whyte was known for his uplifting prayers in the pulpit. He always found something for which to be grateful. One Sunday morning the weather was so gloomy that one church member thought to himself, "Certainly the preacher won't think of anything for which to thank the Lord on a wretched day like this." Much to his surprise, however, Whyte began by praying, "We thank Thee, O God, that it is not always like this."
The first thirty years of my life were spent in Baltimore, Maryland, and I have many fond memories there. One of these is a trail in the woods by the Patapsco River. I used to go fishing there with my dad and spent many a weekend hanging out with my friends, wading in the water.
The parable of the Prodigal son might also serve as an illustration of the relationship between Israel and the Church.
As we continue in our study of the parable of the Prodigal son, let's focus on the central figure in the story -- the father. The father is much like the helpless parent whose unending love is neither understood nor appreciated by either son. He allows his sons to make their own decisions, despite how bad those choices may be. No matter what terrible wrong they may commit, he loves them -- a perfect picture of the love of our Heavenly Father has for his children.