Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

His shoulders slumped in exhaustion as he dropped to the ground under a tree near the brook. He’d arrived. Finally. East of the Jordan River, beside a babbling brook called Cherith. Miles from any town. Days from a decent city. Hiding from the enemies he’d inadvertently made. Alone. Empty-handed. No trace of food to be found in a forgotten pocket. No berries to be scrounged from surrounding bushes. It seemed an unusual place to set up camp, but God’s map had stopped here. There was no forward-leading route. This was it for the foreseeable future. Desolation. Loneliness. Hunger. Bracing his back against the tree trunk, Elijah closed his eyes and mentally replayed the events that brought him to this place.

Being the bearer of bad news always gets one a bad rap, but being the bearer of exceptionally bad news to a king whose fiercely darkened heart had embraced every form of evil, could get one a date with the executioner. The knowledge hadn’t stopped Elijah. He wasn’t one to question God’s commands, His will, His timing. When God sent him to Ahab with news of imminent, prolonged drought, Elijah went. Bravely standing before the king, he stated his business and watched the color drain from Ahab’s face only to be replaced with the purple hue of rage. And God told Elijah to put his wheels on. Get out of Ahab’s presence. Get out of town. Get away from anyone who might recognize him. Get alone. Get to the brook Cherith. Get to safety. So he did.  

Little did Elijah know the carnage that lay behind him. God had spared his life. If Ahab was furious over the announcement, Jezebel was murderous. Rarely could a more vile woman be found. Her hatred toward the God of Israel and His prophets ran deep. She’d do anything to annihilate them. Upon hearing news of the impending disaster, she chose to get started. Every prophet her minions could find was slaughtered. But she couldn’t find the one she most wanted to kill. Elijah was missing. God hid him. Alone. At Cherith. 

As much as his mind and heart could see the saving hand of God in his exile, the pressing grocery situation surely sat foremost in Elijah’s mind. Where were those ravens, anyway? Seriously. The water was great, but he was hungry. The journey had been long and he hadn’t taken time to wait for lunch before hot-footing away from certain death. So what was keeping the birds? More importantly, what were they bringing? Was he expected to share their normal fare? Gag! Rodents. Rubbish. Roadkill. Yuck! Their diet wasn’t exactly palatable. Were they going to wash their beaks before they brought him food or would every morsel be contaminated? Could he do this? Could Elijah actually do this? Did he have the faith, the courage, the trust in his God to sit alone by a brook in a desolate place and wait for dirty birds to bring him bread for life? 

 He could. He did. Elijah made his home by the brook Cherith, drank its waters, and experienced the birth of meal delivery programs. They could have been incorporated as “Raven Run.” Like clockwork, every morning they showed up with edible, palatable bread and meat. Every evening they arrived again with the same. The menu might have grown monotonous, but Elijah always had food. The exact right amount. Enough for that day and that day only. No more. No less. Perfect sustenance. Bread for life. (I Kings 17:1-7)

Eventually, the brook dried up and God moved Elijah to Zarephath where a widow and her son were also desperate to have bread for life. The drought had wrought havoc on their town. The last of her oil sat in the bottom of the jar. The final handfuls of flour waited to be shaken from the dark recesses of the canister. There was nothing else in the house. No stale crusts. No moldy loaf ends. The provisions she had would bake the final loaf. Discouraged, defeated, distressed, the widow was out gathering wood for a fire so she could bake that last loaf and prepare herself for the inevitable result of zero food. Death. Slow, agonizing death.  

Being in no great hurry to meet her demise, she was slowly gathering firewood when Elijah approached and asked for a drink of water. Preoccupied with her own despondency, she set off to get him a drink, but stopped in her tracks at the rest of his request. Taking a deep breath, she silenced the snort of derision attempting to escape. Had he really just asked her for bread? Had this guy just crawled out from under a rock? Did he not know how dire their situation was? Well, he wouldn’t be ignorant for long. Whirling on Elijah, she let loose with every frustration she felt about her current situation. Exactly what bread did he want?! The loaf she was making as a last meal for herself and her son? Did he know there was no excess flour or oil in her entire village? Did he know they were all dying? Did either he or his God care? At all? 

Yes. Yes, Elijah did know. And he did care. He also knew exactly what his God was capable of doing. Providing bread for life. Every Single. Part of it. Daily. By a secluded brook. In a populous town. In famine. In drought. When flour and oil couldn’t be manufactured, bought, borrowed or found. And he told her so. Elijah told the widow to trust his God. Trust that He would take care of her. Every day. As long as the drought endured. And she did. 

I have no idea where this woman from a foreign nation and pagan gods found the courage to place her faith in the one true God, but she did. Staring certain death in the face, she raised her chin, cast her confidence in the God of Israel, and went in to bake her last loaf of bread. Except it wasn’t the last one. She’d be baking bread for days to come. Every time she shook out the last remains of flour and drizzled the final ounces of oil, she’d come back the next day to find enough for the necessary sustaining loaves. She didn’t bake ahead or try to horde her resources for some future time when God failed to come through. No. She didn’t need to. Her faith was stronger than that. God would give her enough. Enough for herself. Enough for her son. Enough for that day. Every day. God would provide bread for life. (I Kings 17:8-16) 

Hunkered there under a tree by your very own Cherith, discouragement, defeat, disappointment, and despair breathing down your neck, hear the words Elijah spoke to the widow and know they are for you too. “Do not fear.” Hanging on to what seem to be the final tethers of your sanity, your courage waning, your strength depleted, your resources dangerously low, quiet your soul and hear Jesus whisper similar words through the Sermon on the Mount, “Do not be anxious.” Not about anything. God knows you. He knows right where you are. He sees you. Alone. Struggling. Barely surviving. Spiritually. Emotionally. Physically. He knows the constant trials, the daily tears. And, just as he required Elijah and the widow of Zarephath to do, God is asking you to stop your own machinations, be obedient, and trust Him. Today. Tomorrow. Every moment of the future. Trust Him to be your bread for life. (Matthew 6:25-34)

Shortly before Jesus admonished His followers to avoid anxiety, He taught them to pray the words, “Give us this day our daily bread.” He didn’t say a word about tomorrow’s needs, next week’s dilemma, the crisis that may possibly descend into your world five years from now. He said to ask for today. So do it! Ask Him. Ask for wisdom to deal with the situation continually plaguing your mind. Ask for resources to cover the unexpected bill hidden in the day’s mail. Ask for courage to defeat the fear warring against your faith. Ask for strength in your weakness. Ask for fortitude in your weariness. Ask for anything you need! Ask for everything you need! For today. Only today. Tomorrow will be today soon enough. So ask Him. Obey Him. Trust Him. The One who loves to hear you call Him Father is faithful. He will provide every need. From strength to salvation, restoration to rejuvenation. Just ask Him. Ask Him to be your Bread for life. (Matthew 6:11; Psalm 27:14; Proverbs 3:5-6; Deuteronomy 31:8; II Corinthians 12:9-10; Psalm 34:17-20; Philippians 4:19; Isaiah 40:29; Psalm 46:1; Matthew 7:7-12)