One of the only real pleasures of living far away from most of the people I love in this world is that I get to write and read lots of wonderful letters. It’s a different sort of communication. Deep. Rich. Honest. Thoughtful. I have a few friends with whom I write consistently and we send each other the stories of our lives. Pages of our thoughts and hurts and frustrations, also the joys and wow moments. We write the account of what is going on. And it’s rich. One of my dearest and best friends wrote me the other day about the widow of Zarephath. And Elijah.
It was interesting to me that she wrote about this particular story because I’ve given this little widow a lot of thought. Mainly, I consider her posture before God. And flinch. She was going to die. There was no food left, and there wasn’t exactly a food bank just up the street – some cute little Methodist church that would fill her bags with canned good and boxes of oatmeal. Empty cupboards. For me, it takes the prayer, Give-us-this-day, our-daily-bread to a whole new level. They were at the brink of starvation, and God sent Elijah to her. So that she could feed him.
Why? Why didn’t God send Elijah to someone in Israel? In Luke, Jesus mentions it and says something about their lack of faith. God knew that the widow of Zarephath was willing. He knew that despite her financial poverty, her heart was rich. That she’d open wide her jar of oil … and give.
It’s a challenging story for a number of reasons. One, the miracle doesn’t come to the widow before she feeds Elijah, it comes after. Her provision comes after she gives Elijah the last of her food.
I find this difficult to accept. I like to work on an absolute sight-only basis. I would prefer for the story to be that the extra oil appears right before she feeds Elijah, so she’ll know she’s going to have enough. Nope. Not quite how God does it. You have to step toward him and toward his ways to experience them.
This is remarkable to contemplate.
Second, it’s very difficult to be poor and it’s hard to go through devastating seasons in our lives. It’s just hard. Life is hard. But sometimes life is doubly hard. And the human tendency is to close off. To wall up and defend. Take an I-need-to-take-care-of-me-now posture. I’ve done it. And sure, found reasons to justify myself. It’s hard to return good for evil. And to love those who’ve hurt us. It’s hard to stay open to life when life hits you and throws you up against the wall. Being generous of heart no matter what happens, takes some getting used to. The widow was poor. Dirt poor. And yet she fed Elijah. Her heart was open wide.
As I’ve pondered this characteristic of God and his people, it occurs to me that the whole Christian faith from beginning to end could be framed around the hospitality of God. The great invitation to be welcomed home … Come to me… Come and Drink… Come to the Banqueting Table. Come… What hospitality. Consequently, for God’s people it’s who we are called to be. It’s part of the deal. This is because there are very few one way streets in God’s house.
I can’t receive forgiveness and refuse to extend it. That’s a No-go. I can’t receive God’s love and withhold it from the people I don’t really care for. And I can’t receive the generous, overwhelming invitation to be a part of God’s family without it infecting my heart.
Open wide your heart …
Generosity and hospitality are about our hearts. About welcoming people and making room for them. In our abundance and in our poverty. In our seasons of overflowingness and in our seasons of poverty.
The story of the widow and Elijah teaches us once again that God meets our needs as we reach out of ourselves toward others.
The miracle of provision comes when I give of myself, even in my emptiness. To whomever is placed before me … This is where we have to ask God, who is placed before us. Because he didn’t bring all of Israel to the widow’s house. He brought Elijah.
And it is at this significant crossroads where we really begin to learn and know and understand the riches that are ours in this faith, because anyone can give out of their wealth and abundance, or when it feels good, when it is flowing… but it takes faith to open up our lives and hearts and give even when we’ve been hurt, wounded, or cast aside. This is when it’s costly.
Who has God placed before you? I’d love to hear…
Much Love,
Tina
“Second, it’s very difficult to be poor and it’s hard to go through devastating seasons in our lives. It’s just hard. Life is hard. But sometimes life is doubly hard.”
You have summed the subtext of my book Listening for the Light, about the effects of impoverishment, illness, mental illness, one economic recession upon another, and terrible assaults and injustices upon our children. We did not walk entirely in darkness because God arranged for astonishing miracles all along the way. Dreams, visions, prophecies, passages in scripture that were proven again in the events of our lives, split-second timing of meetings and rescues, arrivals of answers from unexpected directions, most of which I could not include in my book because my orders were to wait to tell those stories. God led me to ground-breaking knowledge about human behaviour and how to heal mental illness with music. But I wait, today, for the resolution to deep and abiding pain, uncertainty, relational and financial challenges while balanced on the high ledge of God’s unusual ways of speaking to me. My grandmother told me the story of the the widow’s jar of oil when I was too young to know what it meant; but I have learned. And I need to be reminded, as you have done so perceptively.
Grateful thanks,
Laurna