1 Kings 17:24 has an interesting way of wording. It is in the midst of a story that we’re all familiar with from Sunday school, and yet because it is such a minor detail in the midst of the story, it’s almost passed over entirely. Elijah is at a widow’s home, and God is providing oil and flour for bread that they don’t starve while in famine. It is a miraculous provision, and yet the son of this widow dies. The prophet Elijah takes the son up to his own bed chambers, and stretches upon him three times, praying unto God, and the boy is revived. What strikes me in this story is that the widow’s response after this is quite telling.
Now I know that the word of God in your mouth is truth.
Has there been a more severe statement in the records of men? The miraculous provision wasn’t enough for this widow to believe that the word of Elijah was indeed the word of God, and that it was indeed truth. Something else was required. A death of her own son came upon them, and in the frantic of the situation, she hastily conceived that her sin has come upon her. It was with the resurrection of this boy that she now sees something she didn’t see before. Miraculous provision was not enough to sustain the soul of this woman, even though her body was being fed. And it is quite obvious it wasn’t even enough for the body of her son.
Why is it that the word of God in Elijah’s mouth is truth? Could it be that the same word, though technically truth, could be considered non-truth in the mouth of someone else? Could it be that even though the word was truth, that until that time truth had no lodging in this woman? Where do we draw the line in our questions and assumptions?
I think it necessary here to point out that the difference in the widow’s heart was enough for the statement. And yet, within the realm of theology, it does not warrant us a freebee. What exactly happened here? Elijah’s word was not what convinced the woman, and the same can be said of many words that take place every Sunday morning throughout our world. I’m not convinced it was even the miracle of resurrection that convinced this woman, because it if were only something miraculous, then why didn’t the provision cut it? Did they not see day after day that the Lord provided, even though the story begins with the woman telling the man of God that they were about to eat the last bit of bread that they have and die? No, something else was being demonstrated beyond the realm of miracles.
The word of Elijah was not simply the word that we read as his response, nor the word that God had commanded to give. The word is something deeper than speech. It finds lodging within. The new covenant itself demands that God’s word is written upon our hearts, no longer outside speaking and making commandment upon our lives. Now we have become one with the word, and the word has been made flesh even within us. It is not only what was said, but what was done. The life lived out, the logic and perspective of the word of God manifest within the prophet, was what caused this widow to reconsider.
In Elijah’s mouth God’s word was considered truth. Yet, how many times do we find ourselves listening to sermons, reading books, or discussing with others the things of God, and something within us rises up rejecting the very thing being said, even when that speech is “truth”? It is the strangest sensation to be hearing or reading the words of truth, but all the while in the demonstration of that truth it is rendered a lie. Our spirits can sense it, and the claptrap meter inside starts raging against the drivel that permeates the air.
Even the apostle Paul told the Corinthians that he did not come with persuasive words, but that he gave demonstrations of power. A similar statement is found to the Thessalonians, adding that they know what manner of men they were. Paul lived among those he witnessed to. Just as much as he might have proclaimed a message from heaven, a truthfully true message, it was not on the basis of that kind of message alone that Paul puts all of his emphasis. If it were on the basis of sound reasoning, and powerful philosophy, and ingenious persuasion that Paul rested his testimony, we would have reason to rejoice in our own flesh. But Paul gives no basis for the flesh to boast. No, Paul exclaims emphatically that they knew the manner of men that they were in the presence of all.
The demonstrations of power that Paul boasts in has nothing to do with miracles. It has nothing to do with healing. These things are obviously supposed to accompany the one sent from heaven. These things display an overcoming of the kingdom of darkness. Yet, what really seems to get Paul excited was that in the life together with him, all were able to witness a man who subscribes to a completely different way of living, way of thinking, and way of reacting. He ruled with righteousness and justice, mercy and equity being the chief pillars of his government, and love being the garment that he enshrouded himself with. While kings rule with rods, and wear robes of purple, being crowned with gold and splendor, Paul chose rather to show a different kingdom.
This puts a finger directly into our chests. As much as it might expand to us theologically the nature of truth and proclamation, it also challenges us. We who proclaim, are our words charged with demonstrations of power? Or, do our demonstrations render our words to be hokum and hot air? It might be true, but what is more important than having true words is showing the example of those true words. Practicing what we preach is a hard task, but it will reveal to others and to ourselves whether our theology is truly reflecting the very God we claim to serve. If putting into practice the things we preach lacks in character and eternity, then we are wrong.
Leave a Reply