10. What are you doing here, Elijah?

Elijah walked uphill all day after leaving Be’er Sheba, past Chormah, Malatha and Kinah, then he continued downslope until he found himself within sight of the southern tip of the salt sea. Centuries earlier King David, it was written, had taken refuge in the shadows of those same hills. How sweet to walk that consecrated ground.

The rain stopped.

Fatigued a bit—it seemed he had hardly stopped running since Carmel—the prophet pushed aside a scattering of stones, sat heavily under a broom plant and sighed, “It is enough. Now, O Lord, take away my life for I am no better than my fathers.”

The words comforted Elijah. He had rarely stopped to consider his despair, living by a simple rule; listen and obey. Darkness fell. Elijah lay about to drift to sleep, recalling all that had happened since God reversed the drought.

*

Elijah had been sleeping for quite some time when someone touched his shoulder. “Oh, my!” he shouted so loudly that his words bounced off the hills.

“Get up and have some food,” he heard a gentle voice say.

Elijah’s eyes adjusted after a bit of blinking. He saw dimly, upon the stones beside his head, a cake and small bottle of water. He checked his pockets. They were empty. “An angel, most likely,” he sniffed. Elijah asked a quick blessing then ate and drank as told. The water tasted fresh, the cake, warm and sweet. He reclined again, not at all confused, for the Lord, he knew, was good; but it soon seemed that Elijah had gotten something wrong. The angel woke him again with a second nudge and said, “Get up and have some food or the journey will be too much for your strength.”

What journey?

Elijah ate and drank a second snack as delightful as the first. How kind of the Lord to have sent his angel twice! Sometimes Elijah wished that he had been born perfect, surely then he would have understood more; so little of what had happened had made sense. He sat and sang praises, prayed for increased insight and, when the sun rose the next morning, he knew exactly what to do. He would walk forty days and forty nights to Mount Horeb, the mountain of the law, expecting the pace to be more leisurely than the one to which he had recently grown accustomed.

*

After leaving Elijah, Yashar walked until dark and grew hungry. It struck him, then, that the prophet had always fed him while in Israel. Yashar did not know how to hunt or forage or start fires but he made what seemed like a camp anyway. He pushed dirt with his feet, cast sticks away with no purpose and arranged stones in a circle after Elijah’s manner. Waking cold and hungry the next morning was a victory. He had survived the night. The terrain became hilly again as he followed a road north and, just before dark he found himself near a place called Juttah, where men were making a camp.

When questioned by them Yashar remembered Elijah’s advice and answered with the whole truth. “The Lord God of Israel has sent me here,” he said, “as I head north to Samaria.”

The men seemed amused, not impressed, by his answer then invited Yashar to spend the night at their fire. In return, Yashar helped them clear brush and gather wood (while he paid careful attention to how they went about arranging and setting up camp). There was little food available after the universal drought, each man ate whatever he carried. Afterward, his hosts discussed weather and kings. Yashar was embarrassed to have never heard of Ben-hadad of Aram, but it was clear that these men feared the mention of his name.

When a quick rain shower passed, the men praised Elijah for his drought breaking. “But by now,” one said, “I fear Ahab’s queen has murdered the good prophet.”

“Not so,” Yashar said plainly, “Elijah lives.”

Though they seemed not to believe him, Yashar let it pass. But when one of them also doubted the reports of the miracles Elijah had performed at Carmel, Yashar stood and spoke boldly, caught up in a passion. He told how Jezebel’s priests had cut themselves and all that had happened afterwards. “I myself discovered the first rain cloud,” he said, and though he hated to relive it, he described the deaths of Jezebel’s priests then finished by recounting Elijah’s amazing sprint ahead of Ahab’s team to Jezreel.

“We heard God’s voice in yours, tonight,” one stranger told him afterward. He handed Yashar a small, dried cake from his pouch as a sort of reward. Too exhausted to eat it, Yashar tucked it away and found a place beside the fire to sleep.

*

There were several dogs in their camp, one a dull grey runt with an awkward limp, dull coat and broad muzzle. The bigger animals snapped at the lame one and the men were no kinder. As Yashar lay awake that evening wondering what the next day might bring, the unpopular pup ambled up beside him. When no one could see, Yashar fed the poor creature his cake. What difference did it make? One tiny morsel would not have satisfied Yashar, but the pup snapped it up and seemed pleased.

*

Yashar rose early the next morning and said goodbye, quick thanks to his hosts and a pat for the ugly dog. He headed north again, toward Hebron, with a better understanding of the way, thanks to what he had learned from the men the night before. He passed Bethlehem by midday. Late that afternoon, into rocks and ruts on ever-steeper slopes, Yashar quit early and tried to make a better camp. The night before, his hosts had used a bow drill to start their fire. Yashar had no string but he did find a good, straight stick, some dry tinder and an almost flat piece of wood. What joy after rubbing and scraping forever to see the first quick flashes in his tinder burst into flames!

He found smooth stones and made an altar like Elijah’s on Carmel, though much smaller, then prayed for food, which he knew he would need eventually. Later, two shining eyes appeared before him not far from where he lay. It was the pup from Juttah, whining and shifting side to side.

“How did you find me, dog?” Yashar asked, his voice cracked with sleep. “I’ve covered nearly twenty miles today.” Without permission, the pup leapt forward and licked his face. No one could see, so Yashar pulled the furry thing close to him and gave him a hug. The animal did not seem to mind. It appeared they had much in common.

*

Deserts, forests and mountains were all the same to Elijah. After forty days walking the prophet climbed Mount Horeb, found a hole in a rock near its peak and fell asleep. The word of the Lord then came to him, saying, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

What an odd question. God, himself, had sent him.

Since the Lord wasn’t seeking information, Elijah wondered how to respond. “I have been burning for the honor of the Lord, the God of armies,” he finally chose to say, “for the children of Israel have not kept your agreement. They have destroyed your altars and put your prophets to death with the sword until I, even I, am the only one living. And now they want my life.”

“Go out,” God said to Elijah, “and take your place on the mountain before the Lord.”

Elijah’s heart leapt. How kind and thoughtful the Lord of Hosts proved to be! He hurried out into the air laughing aloud, anxious to see God’s face then die. He found a boulder on the slope and sat upon it, facing the desert, waiting, the night all around pitch black.

But nothing happened.

Elijah sniffed the air. Though far from Carmel, it had rained recently upon the mountain and in the desert too, proving the extent of God’s mercy. “A nation that honors such as Jezebel,” he muttered, “is clearly not worthy.”

The wind stirred. Had the Creator of the Universe arrived? “Lord?” Elijah said softly, but before the word had left his lips Elijah found himself launched in the air, tumbling in a gale across the face of the mountain. Objects hurtled past his face, he could see them in the dark—great stones flying like nothing of consequence in a breeze, like vapors, buoyant as dust.

The gale ended suddenly. Elijah had been thrown a great distance. He caught his breath, rose to his feet and dusted off, unharmed. “Hallelujah,” he said, softly, a bit confused and much amazed, for the Lord had not been in the wind. So Elijah returned to the rock where he had begun then sat again to wait for God to appear. Not long after, the prophet’s spirit quickened as the earth trembled a little, and he dared whisper, Lord?

Boom! The mountain itself slung him into the air, head over heels, tumbling left then right like a boulder careening downhill. When it stopped, Elijah rose to his feet, uninjured, and looked about again.

Clearly, the Lord had not been in that shaking, however great.

“O my Lord, have mercy, where are you?” Elijah called out, and not far from where he stood he happened to see a twinkling on the slope, a small fire, a glimmer, a wisp of kindling, perhaps, so he whispered into the gloom, Lord? and the mountainside immediately burst into flame.

“My, oh my,” Elijah yelled as he tried to run away. “Forgive me, O Lord, for fearing a mortal woman,” he cried into the darkness with the strength of his whole soul. The fire stopped at once. Elijah was, once again, unharmed and, again, it was clear that the Lord had not been in the fire.

“What now?” he wept, and upon hearing a subtle breath, Elijah covered his face and stood in the cleft of the rock. The sound came again, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Same question as before.

“I have been burning for the honor of the Lord, the God of armies,” Elijah repeated, “for the children of Israel have not kept your agreement. They have destroyed your altars and put your prophets to death with the sword until I, even I, am the only one living, and now they attempt to take my life.”

Instead of taking Elijah to heaven, as hoped, the Lord gave him instructions regarding the future. Though briefly disappointed, Elijah resigned himself to obey.

*

Yashar considered turning east toward Jerusalem to see Solomon’s temple—as a child he had heard stories of its glory—but he continued toward Samaria, afraid to leave the path he knew.

He had improved as a traveler each day, asking better questions, making improved fires and nearly always finding food. The ugly pup from Juttah had continued to follow him. Yashar began to call him Juttah, though only to himself, but after the animal had kept him company for two more days and nights, never straying, it became his official name.

“You are Juttah,” Yashar said, rubbing the animal’s ears, “and now you belong to me.”

And Yashar prayed every evening, “Lord, please fix my new friend’s limp, grow him stronger and make him never want to run away.”