An Ode to Sewer Pipes

Wow, what a let down yesterday! Here is a phrase I use when allowing myself to become emotionally low and dispirited: I feel like I want to commit “sewer pipes.” What added a deeper demintion, and always does, to my low ebb, is conversing with a couple dozen acquaintances, friends and family members who were having the same feelings. Then this morning, early into my devotional period, I was reminded, as a young boy, one of my favorite bible stories of the epic encounter between the prophet Elijah and the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel. Elijah faces off against 450 prophets of Baal in a contest pitting the God of Israel against the Canaanite god Baal. Which deity would answer the prayers of the respective prophets to consume the altar sacrifice?

This is an incident filled with dramatic tension and awesome displays of power. The Lord answers Elijah with fire from heaven that not only consumes the sacrifice, but also licks up every last drop of water poured out from not one, but four pitchers of water. The story ends with the destruction of the prophets of Baal and the peoples' declaration that the Lord is God.

Now, writing this later chapter of my life, I still love this story of Elijah and the prophets of Baal, but not for the reasons I loved it as a young boy. Instead, I love what seems to be an anti-climactic postscript to the story. Despite seeing the glory and power of God on display in such dramatic fashion, and winning a great victory, Elijah falls into what could likely be called depression. Threatened by Queen Jezebel, he runs for his life into the wilderness. There, under a lone broom tree, he prays to God to take his life, not once but two times. Commentator, Bill Long, in his piece of "Man on the Run," says "Those who have suffered mental anguish in their lives know all too well the depths to which Elijah has descended. He (and they) has entered the deep spots in the psychological ocean, and then has found a narrow slit in the ocean floor, a Marianas Trench of the soul, where he descends further still into the inky abyss. All he can think of is his desire to die." In my case, committing sewer pipes.

As one reading this story, this is a surprising turn of events. How could Elijah feel this way? After all, didn't he just see God mightily answer his prayer? One might expect a God who would reproach Elijah for feeling so badly, for his lack of faith, for his despair. And yet, the narrative offers no exhortation or chastening. Instead, an angelic messenger is touching Elijah, urging him to eat bread and water prepared for him by a heavenly servant. Then the angel comes again and feeds Elijah a second time urging him to "Arise, eat for the journey is too great for you."

Given God's firey display from heaven in the encounter with the prophets of Baal, truthfully, I expect another dramatic display from God. And indeed, as Elijah waits on Mount Horeb, the Mountain of God, he experiences a strong wind, and a mighty earthquake, and then a consuming fire; but with each of these cataclysms the story writer repeats a refrain: The Lord was not in the wind, or the earthquake or the fire. Instead, the Lord comes to Elijah in a gentle blowing. God meets Elijah at the very place of his despair, not with correction or reprimand, not with a "buck up and get going" or a "keep your chin up" but with a grace as gentle as a soft breeze.

Like Elijah, there are days when I feel at the height of heights, assured of all answers, victorious in my daily battles, maybe even confident of God's saving activity all around. But yesterday, like other days when I need permission to feel badly. Despair is my only friend and the obstacles and challenges of life conspire against faith, hope, and love. It is deeply encouraging to see that even in this place, God draws near to me this morning with gentleness.

The gentleness of God on display in Elijah's dark depression is the same God sung about in one of Israel's ancient psalms:

"Where can I go from your Spirit?

Or where can I flee from your presence?

If I make my bed in the nether world, behold you are there.

If I take the wings of the dawn, if I dwell in the remotest part of the sea,

even there your hand will lead me and your right hand will lay hold of me.

If I say, 'surely the darkness will overwhelm me, and the light around me will be night'

Even the darkness is not dark to you, and the night is as bright as the day.

Darkness and light are alike to you."

The experience I have had in throughout my faith history has been comforting news that God is not only available to me when I feel good, but makes his dwelling with me even in the darkness of despair. I often feel in my later years of distress that I simply have to avoid the problem, to "get out" of feeling badly. But, in fact, what is happening is that even in sorrow, even in my despair I have the hope that I am still being drawn by the gracious arms of God into closer communion. Bill Long notes, "What God wants is not so much our victories, but our life in the wilderness." As the story of Elijah bears witness, even in my LONG/LIFE wilderness God will prepare a meal, provide shelter, and speak gently into my fears.