Fire is a common image in the old testament. From a burning bush that is not destroyed to a blazing pillar that guides the Israelites out of Egypt, these portrayals of fire are often confusing and miraculous, and the story of Elijah on Mount Carmel is no exception.

The characters involved in this account are no less perplexing than the account itself – a widow on the verge of starvation, a palace administrator with a secret, and a prophet sent to oppose a false god. When we take the time to immerse ourselves in this story, in the lives of these people, we are faced with two questions: who are we, and which fire are we pursuing?

Consider the passage about the Sidonian widow (1 Kings 17:7-24) from the widow’s perspective: It took all the strength you had to rise this morning and ready yourself for the day ahead. Just making it to the town gate seemed an impossible task. You can’t bring yourself to walk any further for firewood, but it doesn’t much matter anyway. It won’t take much of a fire to cook what little food you have left. As you arduously gather sticks your mind turns to your son.

Your son, your beautiful son, that precious boy is waiting for you at home. You haven’t been able to look him in the eye all morning. You’ve been dreading this moment for days. What will you say to him after the plate is emptied and he hungrily asks for more? How will you explain to him that there is nothing left, that there is no one coming to help? You’ll think of something, just like you did when you told him the fate of his father. You choke back a sob as you try to keep your mind from turning to the reality that you will soon meet the same end.

A voice pierces your ears, interrupting your thoughts. A foreign man, you can tell by his accent, approaches asking for water. You steady yourself against the rough city wall, trying to stave off the dizziness of hunger as you turn to face him. His haggard appearance gives you pause, but then you can’t imagine how unkempt you must appear. As you turn to fetch him a drink he asks for the unimaginable – a piece of bread.

You call out to protest, you have no bread to give! Does he not know who you are? A widow, far too familiar with the painful reality of death that lies before you, forgotten and overlooked by the rest of society, unable to feed your own child let alone a stranger!

And yet there’s something about his words that spark something deep within you – the authority with which he speaks as he assures you that there will be plenty for the days ahead, his God has declared it so. You find your feet eagerly turning to comply before your mind catches up with you and you resolve to obey.

Now, consider the meeting of Obadiah and Elijah (1 Kings 18:1-15) from Obadiah’s perspective: You’ve overheard the whispers drifting through the palace halls, that Elijah had been spotted in Sidon, staying with a widow and her son. They say that he brought the boy back to life. But so far they’ve amounted to little more than rumors; no one has come forward with any evidence and no one has dared mention it to the King.

You’re not about to bring it up, no need to call attention to yourself when you’re trying to lay low. You shudder as you imagine what the King would do if he found out that you’ve been hiding prophets from the Queen. Besides, you have more important things to worry about, like keeping the King’s horses fed. This was, after all, an issue of national security – these were the same horses that would accompany the King’s army in battle.

You look to the sky as you walk, your thoughts turning to the drought that caused this mess to begin with. It’s no use speculating when it might rain again – you heard the prophecy spoken straight from Elijah’s mouth, not a single drop of rain would fall again until the Lord commands it. Your eyes return to the horizon as you continue scanning ahead for some sign of greenery.

Then he appears, just a dot on the path at first, but as you move closer you see that it’s really him – Elijah! You rush to meet him and hurriedly greet him, bowing low as you approach, trying to contain your enthusiasm at this chance encounter. But his reply is hardly as amicable – he wants you to do what?

Does he not know who you are? The palace administrator, tasked with the serious job of keeping the King’s animals well fed; a man who has worshiped the God of Israel since youth, who has gathered and hidden the Lord’s prophets to preserve Elijah’s very way of life!

How could he ask such a thing of you? Surely he knows that announcing Elijah’s return without providing proof would be a death sentence! You raise your voice in dissent, recounting all you have already done for the Lord, how faithfully you have served Him; what could you possibly have done to deserve such a fate?

Elijah is firm in his reply: he will present himself to Ahab, but you must go and announce his arrival. Reluctantly you turn, fear and rage burning inside you as you trudge on to meet your fate.

Questions for reflection:

• Why do you think Obadiah seeks favor from Elijah for the help he has provided, while the widow never demands a reward for her sacrifice?

• Whose response do you relate to more – Obadiah’s, who has worshiped the Lord since his youth, or the Sidonian widow, who faithfully complies with the prophet Elijah’s commands, but comes to believe much later?

• What man-made god are you prone to look to for answers (success, productivity, fear, wealth…)?