The Eleventh Sunday after Trinity – Pr. Faugstad sermon
Text: 1 Kings 19:9-18

In Christ Jesus, who knew exactly what to do when God sent Him down from His heavenly throne—save all people from their sins, dear fellow redeemed:

Two times the LORD asked Elijah, “What are you doing here?” “Here” was Mount Horeb, the same mountainous area where Moses received the holy Law from God. It was deep in the wilderness, south of the kingdom of Judah. Mount Horeb was a long way from Mount Carmel in the northern kingdom of Israel. Mount Carmel in the north is where the LORD showed His power over the prophets of Baal by consuming Elijah’s sacrifice with fire from heaven. When that happened, the people of Israel cried out, “The LORD, he is God; the LORD, he is God!” (1Ki. 18:39).

You heard about that last week. What you didn’t hear about is that Elijah commanded the Israelites to seize the prophets of Baal and kill them. The people did this; those false prophets were totally wiped out. Immediately after this, the LORD sent a great rain upon the parched land, rain that hadn’t fallen for three and a half years. Everything seemed to be changing for the better in Israel by the power of the LORD. So what was Elijah doing far away from Israel, way down south at Mount Horeb?

When Queen Jezebel learned that her prophets had been destroyed, she sent this chilling message to Elijah, “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” (19:2). She was telling Elijah that he was as good as dead. Despite his victory at Mount Carmel by the power of the LORD, Elijah was now seized with fear. He “ran for his life” as fast and as far as he could go, away from where Jezebel was.

As the days passed and the miles stretched behind him, Elijah began to feel guilty. Why did he run from the wicked queen when she was no match for the almighty LORD? How could he be such a coward? He knew that he was not worthy to be a prophet of the LORD (19:4). But as his long journey continued, and God made it clear that Elijah’s work wasn’t finished, a self-righteous anger began to well up inside Elijah.

When the LORD asked, “What are you doing here, Elijah?” he had an answer ready, almost as though it had been rehearsed. He said, “I have been very jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts. For the people of Israel have forsaken Your covenant, thrown down Your altars, and killed Your prophets with the sword, and I, even I only, am left, and they seek my life, to take it away.”

Elijah’s complaint is understandable. The pressure on him was tremendous, and he knew of no one who shared the same devotion to the LORD. Elijah felt utterly alone. He had done what God directed him to do, but what had it accomplished? King Ahab and Queen Jezebel were still in power. The people of Israel remained in their sinful ways. And Elijah had been given a death sentence. It wasn’t fair. It was too much.

I imagine you can relate to that thought: “This isn’t fair; this is too much.” You have said that when you were stretched too thin, when more was expected of you than you could deliver. Or maybe you said it when you stayed faithful to the LORD, when you said or did what was right, and your reward for it was getting attacked or punished. You have felt alone, like the weight of the world was pressing down on you, and you couldn’t see how anything would improve.

As natural as this thinking is, it is also dangerous thinking. “This isn’t fair; this is too much,” is focusing on ourselves. It is turning over and over again in our minds the wrongs that have been done to us, the injustices we have experienced, the hardships that we don’t think we deserve. Tied up in that thinking is criticism directed at the LORD. It sounds like, “God, don’t You see what is happening? Why won’t You help? Can’t You see how faithful I have been? Don’t You care about me?” We can sympathize with lonely Elijah.

And how did the LORD respond to his reasons for running and hiding out in a cave in the wilderness? He sent a strong wind that tore at the mountains and broke the rocks in pieces. Then He sent an earthquake that made Elijah shudder in his cave. Then He sent a fire blazing across the face of the mountain. But the LORD did not appear in any of these forces of nature. After the fire had passed, Elijah heard “the sound of a low whisper.” When he heard this, “he wrapped his face in his cloak and went out and stood at the entrance of the cave.”

For the second time, Elijah heard the LORD’s question, “What are you doing here?” And for the second time, Elijah answered just as he had before. But after having experienced the wind, the earthquake, and the fire, and with his face now wrapped in a cloak, his answer had probably lost its edge. It’s kind of comical to think of Elijah talking through his cloak, “I have been very jealous for the LORD, the God of hosts,” and, “I, even I only, am left,” as He stood in the presence of the holy God. He didn’t look or sound quite as defiant or justified as he had before.

And that is as it should have been. It wasn’t Elijah’s job to tell God what He should be doing differently. It wasn’t Elijah’s job to determine what the LORD should do with his efforts. It was Elijah’s job to speak God’s Word faithfully and entrust his life to the LORD. When we insist on what is fair or on what God owes us, we sound like the Pharisee in the Holy Gospel, “I thank you that I am not like other men…. I fast twice a week; I give tithes of all that I get” (Luk. 18:11,12). He wanted everyone to hear why God should look with favor on him. He wanted his reward.

The tax collector saw things differently. The last thing he wanted was for God to reward him for what he had done. That would mean God punishing him for his sins. He knew that is what he deserved. Instead of trying to justify himself, the tax collector humbly bowed his head and quietly prayed, “God, be merciful to me, a sinner!” (v. 13).

The LORD gave him the gift of repentance, which is a gift He wants to give each of us. The way He leads us to repentance is through the clear preaching of His Law. In Catechism Class last week, the students reviewed what the Law is: “The Law is that Word of God which tells us how we are to be, and what we are to do and not to do” (ELS Catechism, p. 23). But none of us likes being told what we should and shouldn’t do. That’s what makes hearing the Law painful. It exposes the sins that we would rather keep hidden. It shows us that we are not as righteous as we want to think we are.

The Law accuses us and terrifies us like the wind, earthquake, and fire that God sent on the mountain where Elijah was. The LORD described the Law as functioning like this: “Is not my word like fire, declares the LORD, and like a hammer that breaks the rock in pieces?” (Jer. 23:29). The Law like a fire burns away our prideful and self-righteous thinking. The Law like a hammer breaks through the hardness and stubbornness of our hearts. St. Paul writes that the purpose of the Law is “so that every mouth may be stopped [like Elijah’s cloak wrapped around his face], and the whole world may be held accountable to God” (Rom. 3:19).

But once the Law has done its work, once it has humbled us like it did Elijah and the tax collector, then we hear “the sound of a low whisper,” a gentle word, from God. He promises us that all is not lost; He has a plan. He is not here to destroy us; He is here to save. We are not alone in our guilt; He is present with forgiveness and grace. This is the message of the Gospel. The Catechism students learn that “The Gospel (the Good News) is that Word of God which reveals the salvation Christ has won for all people” (ELS Catechism, p. 39).

We need this good news because all of us have sinned. All of us have played the part of the Pharisee, wanting to be seen as righteous by the good we have done. We must bow our heads like the tax collector, each and every day, and acknowledge that we are saved solely by the mercy of God. We are saved not because we deserve it, but because in His love, God the Father sent His Son to be our Substitute and our Savior.

In our weakness and impatience we complain, “This isn’t fair; this is too much.” But Jesus went forth like a Lamb uncomplaining, bearing the guilt of the whole world, taking the entire burden on Himself. He did not run from it. He didn’t argue His innocence. He didn’t make excuses for why He couldn’t do the job. Willing, all this He suffered (Evangelical Lutheran Hymnary #331, v. 1).

That means your sins of fear and despair, anger and impatience, pride and self-righteousness, are all forgiven, fully paid for, blotted from your record by His holy, precious blood. Now He cleanses your heart and mind to do His will, and He cleanses your mouth for words of truth and love. He has more work for you to do in His name, just as He had more work for Elijah to do.

He told Elijah, “You are not as alone as you think.” The LORD had preserved seven thousand in Israel who had not bowed the knee to Baal or kissed him by idolatrous worship. And He has done the same for you. He has preserved brothers and sisters in Christ in these congregations and around the world who are faithful to His Word.

His Word, both powerful and piercing in Law and calming and comforting in Gospel, will strengthen and keep you steadfast until your end, according to His gracious will.

Glory be to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Ghost; as it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, forevermore. Amen.

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(woodcut from “The Pharisee and the Tax Collector” by Julius Schnorr von Carolsfeld, 1794-1872)