Proper 7

People are fascinating. We love to watch people and talk about people. Gossip based on casual observation is one of our favorite pastimes. Who doesn’t like to “people watch” while sitting on a park bench or lounging on the beach? You inevitably start to muse about different types of people.

Some people are the bane of our existence. You might have a family member or colleague at work who is insufferable. The usual criticism is that they have discovered the joy of narcissism.

It’s not surprising because we live in an era of self-promotion. It’s an all-about-me culture. Social media platforms encourage us to showcase our lives. Some celebrities do it so well that they’re famous simply for, well, being famous.

We may not like it, but we live in an influencer culture of lifestyle exaggeration. Social media platforms such as Instagram and TikTok showcase braggarts portraying excessively glamorous lifestyles and shallow self-promotion — all of which is curated to foster envy and FOMO (fear of missing out).

We all deal with people every day who think that “it’s all about me.”

The prophet Elijah is a perfect example of how narcissism can mess you up.

Somewhere, sometime in Elijah’s ministry — perhaps during the exhausting and dramatic encounter with the prophets of Ba’al — Elijah began to believe that this ministry thing was all about him. Even King Ahab, in his breathless recounting of the event to Jezebel, highlighted the prophet’s role. He told her “… all that Elijah had done, and how he had killed all the prophets with the sword” (19:1). Kill 450 prophets of Ba’al, and you might start to think you’re something special.

Call down rain after a three-year drought, and you think you’re sort of powerful. It was quite a show, and Elijah was front and center. Perhaps he felt entitled. Until the wicked queen of the North, in an apoplectic rage, swore to kill him within 24 hours.

All the bravado gone, Elijah disappears faster than leaven at Passover, arriving in Beersheba where he leaves his servant and then continues his dive into the Negev desert. When God questions him, “What are you doing?” Elijah’s response is telling. Things have gone against him. He alone is left in Israel to worship Yahweh.

This moment highlights a subtle but dangerous trap: the tendency to make ourselves the center of the story. Elijah’s complaint, “I’ve been very passionate for the Lord God of heavenly forces because the Israelites have abandoned your covenant. … I’m the only one left” (1 Kings 19:10, 14), reflects a narcissistic narrative in which he’s the principal player and an indispensable one at that. When God asks him what he is doing, he says with a petulance matched only by a contestant on “The Bachelorette”: “I am serving you, and I am the only one doing it.”

You might be surprised to know that God doesn’t care if you’ve been the elder brother working faithfully in the vineyard, or if you devote 20-30 hours a week volunteering with local charities, or if you’ve posted 1,249 TikTok videos offering proof of the existence of God, or if you tithe more faithfully than others.

God wants to know if you’re able to hear the “sound of sheer silence” or, as the KJV puts it, the “still small voice” of the divine presence. Think about how this divine need for dialogue and relationship flows through Scripture from beginning to end. In the garden, God wanted conversation and fellowship with Adam and Eve. God’s desire for us to be in dialogue and in relationship is constant. The gospels have Jesus repeatedly saying something to the effect that those who have ears should listen (see Matthew 11:15,13:9, 43; Mark 4:9, 23; Luke 8:8). Even more to the point, Revelation 3:20 depicts a conversation-seeking Christ at the door knocking and speaking to the inhabitants within, “Listen! I am standing at the door, knocking. If you hear my voice and open the door, I will come in to you and eat with you, and you with me.”

God has a mission for Elijah that he completed admirably, but in the process, Elijah lost sight of something — his relationship with the Divine. So, God uses this moment to reorient Elijah’s perspective, reminding him that doing God’s work is supposed to be about God, not about us.

            Part of Elijah’s despair, and often the despair we feel in certain situations, stems from his assumption that the success of God’s mission depends solely on him. He clearly views himself as the sole faithful prophet, magnifying his role and minimizing God’s sovereignty.

This is Elijah’s mindset when God finds him under a “solitary broom tree” in the Negev crying an atmospheric river of tears.

Then God poses a question — not once, but twice! “What are you doing here, Elijah?” (vv. 9, 13). Exactly! The question is significant both for Elijah and for anyone who experiences moments of despair or confusion. It is this question that helps Elijah recalibrate a mid-course correction. This is the thing about life. It’s not static, but dynamic; always in flux, moving and flowing. That’s why adjustments, modifications, adaptations and corrections are the rule of thumb. And to get it right, one starts with self-assessment.

This is what God is prompting Elijah to do. He’s slipped unintentionally into a narcissistic funk. God wants to help him get out of it. How? This self-review will compel him to reflect on his current situation. God’s question is not accusatory but probing, inviting Elijah to consider why he has abandoned his mission. When God asks us what we’re doing, it’s not a criticism. It’s a teaching moment, a reminder to pause and ask ourselves why we’re in a hole — and still digging.

Elijah’s response to the question reveals his feelings of isolation and failure: “I alone am left, and they are seeking my life, to take it away” (v. 10). However, God’s intention is to point him back to the divine purpose for his life. By asking, “What are you doing here?” God gently redirects Elijah’s focus from his personal despair to the broader plan. For us, it can serve as a reminder to assess whether we’re aligned with God’s will or if we have let circumstances pull us away from our calling.

After asking this question, God doesn’t abandon Elijah to his despair. Instead, God gives Elijah new instructions and reveals that he is not as alone as he feels. God tells Elijah, you have friends. “Yet I will leave seven thousand in Israel, all the knees that have not bowed to Baal” (v. 18). Clearly, Elijah did not have the latest data. He was badly informed, a victim of his own polls. He was not alone after all!

God’s plans are bigger than ours. His ways are not our ways; his thoughts are not our thoughts (Isaiah 55:8-9). And fortunately, God was not finished with Elijah yet, just as God is not finished with us (see Philippians 1:6). Richard Bach, in his little tome, Illusions: The Adventures of a Reluctant Messiah, puts it this way: “This is a test to see if your mission in this life is complete. If you are alive, it isn’t.”

So, what does God do? He encourages Elijah. He encourages him in a woodshed sort of way. Elijah finds himself in a bomb cyclone of natural disturbances — an earthquake, wind and fire.

This gets Elijah’s attention. And now there’s a still, small voice (vv. 11-13), and God reveals himself in a gentle whisper. God puts him to work, reminding him of his mission. God uses action verbs as a sort of head slap. God orders him to Horeb. God tells him to “Go …” and start anointing future leaders and prophets.

What are the lessons for us in this fascinating case of the frustrated, narcissistic prophet?

Perhaps we should beware of self-importance. Like Elijah, we can sometimes act as if everything depends on us — our family, job or church. While God values our contributions, God’s work does not hinge on any one person. We are part of a larger story.

We can look for God in the small things. Elijah expected God in the wind, earthquake or fire, but God came in a whisper. This reminds us that God’s work often occurs in the small, quiet acts of kindness, patience and love that we might overlook.There is a divine relationship between the little things, the apparently insignificant moments, and the overall detritus of life that prefigures more momentous things like responsibility, love, and justice. Those who are wise look for God in all the right places.

And remember the community. Elijah thought he was alone, but God reminded him of the 7,000 faithful who refused to bow the knee before Ba’al. Isolation can breed despair, but God’s kingdom is full of faithful people working in concert through a variety of callings and gifts to bring glory to God.

Finally, focus on the mission, not on the self. God redirects Elijah to the task ahead — anointing new leaders and preparing the way for others. The mission of God is greater than our personal feelings or struggles.

And remember, it’s not all about us. It’s all about God.