Jesus Isn't Decaf (By Naomi Meyers)

They had fallen into idol worship again. Same song, second verse. From the king to the beggar, Israel was rife with idolatry. The Baals and Asherah poles were everywhere. Again. It wasn’t the first time they’d turned from God to worship something less. It wasn’t the first time they had traded His power for something powerless. It wasn’t the first time they were desperately in need of returning, renewal, revival. It was, however, the first time anyone had encouraged a contest between their idols and the true God in an effort to rescue their wayward hearts. 

Mount Carmel was teeming with people. Men. Women. Children. Everyone was gathered to watch the display. I can’t imagine why. What question could they possibly have about which God was real and true and sovereign? Did not their history clearly indicate the truth? Perhaps they were not history buffs. Perhaps the stories had grown uninteresting. Perhaps they had taken on a fairy-tale quality they found difficult to believe. Whatever the case, they gathered there on that hilltop all agog, as if the winner remained some well-kept secret. 

Eight hundred and fifty false prophets gathered around the altar they had built to their god. They carefully laid the wood, placing cut-up pieces of an oxen sacrifice atop. In keeping with the contest rules, no one struck a match, no one snuck in smoldering coal. They lit no fire. Both altar and sacrifice were stone cold. They were duped into believing their god would bring the fire. 

Fervently, they began to call on their god. Early morning became mid-morning. Their voices were getting tired, their throats scratchy. No answer came. They kept calling, adding in some dancing and jumping in hopes of a quick response. Noon arrived. Elijah suggested that perhaps their god was asleep, on vacation, or hard of hearing. Somehow they fell for it. They rallied, raised their voices, put on an even greater show. With swords they cut themselves, inflicting deep wounds, running rivulets of blood down their limbs. Wounded or not, they continued ranting and raving, leaping and lunging, erroneously believing their god would send down fire. It was all for nothing. Only evening arrived. No response. No voice. No fire. 

As evening fell and the prophets of Baal continued their obviously impotent pleas, Elijah called the people to where his altar would stand. He arranged twelve stones as God had instructed so long ago. He dug a large trench around the outside of the altar. Arranged the wood. Laid his cut-up ox on top. Then did something the contest did not require. Elijah asked them to pour water on the sacrifice. Four pitchers. Once. Twice. Three times. Twelve pitchers of water. Enough to soak the sacrifice, the wood, and flow around the altar. Enough water to fill the trench. Then Elijah began to pray. 

It took only two succinct sentences. An introduction. A petition. Two sentences and the fire fell. Not a little flash to burn the sacrifice. Not just a few flames and a lot of smoke. No. A raging, flaming inferno consuming everything. The sacrifice, the wood, the stones, the dust, the water lying in the trench. Everything. And the people, in awe and fear, fell to their faces and cried, “The Lord is God.” (I Kings 18) 

It is such a satisfying ending to the story. The unequivocal routing of evil forces. The unquestionable evidence that God is above all. The unforgettable proof that God will do whatever it takes to draw His people back to Him. Even when they’ve drifted down the path of least resistance. Even when they have voluntarily chosen to walk away. Even when they have substituted the passing pleasures of the world for the permanence of His presence. Even when those people are like us. 

We are not so different from the people of Elijah’s day. Our traitorous hearts have become distracted with the baubles of the world, with an easier way, with a path that doesn’t require so much effort and devotion. Although we have not erected altars, cast images, or physically prostrated ourselves before them, we have cast our faith in homemade securities and allowed them to become our gods, chased them down, sold our souls to have them. We have consciously rebelled against the undeniable fact that anything we allow to come between our hearts and complete surrender to Jesus Christ is an idol. Wood. Hay. Stubble. Consumable under the flaming, righteous judgment of God. 

I wonder what it will take to wake us from our stupor. What needs to happen for us to fall on our faces and exclaim, “The Lord is God”? What must occur to bring our languishing souls to the place we joyously welcome Him as Lord of our hearts, director of our lives? What’s it gonna take to bring us back to full surrender to God?

As I look at all the goings-on across the globe, as I read the stories, hear the accounts, I find myself asking this question with alarming regularity. So many days, annoyed, frustrated, worried, scared, I turn my tear-stained face up to Heaven and desperately cry out, “What’s it gonna take, God?” There is so much wickedness running rampant. So much readily available, eagerly accepted evil thriving around us. The darkness presses in so deeply it seems impenetrable. The siren song of sin is luring and beautiful and many have been drawn aside. In response to the heaviness in my heart for the people around me, I find myself asking again and again the question whose answer terrifies me, “What’s it gonna take?” (Ecclesiastes 3:16-18)

What would it take to bring morals and ethics and standards back to our country? What will it take to bring spiritual renewal to our churches? What would it take to bring revival across the land?  What will it take to bring us back from the brink of inevitable destruction? And always,  the voice I know as God’s, echoes back to me, “What’s it gonna take for you?” 

The question is close and searching. In Ezekiel’s day, it took devastation, destruction, and death. I don’t want to be like those people. I have no interest in those things. Yet I find it so easy to be distracted and drawn aside by the worries and cares of life, by the pretty baubles of the world. It is so simple to skimp on Bible reading, pray on the run. So many things are vying for my attention, my time, my energy that I can easily be drawn into a situation where something else has taken first place before Jesus. In that moment, I can cry and beg and plead and hope for my city, my nation, my world, but the prevailing truth remains, returning, renewal, revival has to start in me. (Ezekiel 22; 28:22, 24, 26; Mark 4:18-19)

   Chances are high you are in the same spot. The distracting things of the world grab your attention more often than not. The cares of life pull you aside more frequently than you wish they did. Other, lesser, things have crowded in and taken the top spot in your heart. Your relationship with Jesus is struggling, your surrender has waned. You want to cry and beg and plead and hope for your city, your nation, your world, but the prevailing truth remains, returning, renewal, revival has to start in you. (Galatians 5:7; I Corinthians 9:24)

So what’s it gonna take? What will it take for you personally to know, understand, acknowledge that God is the Lord of all things? What’s it going to take for you to throw your idols on the altar before God and make Him Lord of your life? What would it take for you to allow God to make you His kingdom on earth? What’s it going to take to make you surrender completely to His will, His way, His plan? Seriously. Ask yourself. What would it take to make you put all your chips in the middle for God, throw the applause, awards, accolades of earth to the ground, and surrender to Him completely? (James 4:7; Matthew 16:24)

That’s where it’s at. Complete, total, nothing held back surrender to God in whom all things exist, who holds all things together, and in whom we live and breathe. Are you there? Are you willing? Will you tear down your idols and put God back in the proper place of authority in your life? Will you let worldwide revival begin in your heart? If your answer is “no,” may I ask, what’s it gonna take? (Ephesians 4:6; Hebrews 3:4; I Chronicles 29:12; Acts 17:28; Exodus 20:3-5; Psalm 135:6)