Flour, Oil, and Faith

Sometimes faith is about doing something and not knowing the outcome. Faith, however, can also be an invitation to do something knowing the outcome. Which is harder? I would have said the former. Now I’m not so sure.

            The widow of Zarephath was presented with situation number two (I Kings 17). She was in a bad spot. The cupboard and refrigerator were nearly empty, so bare and so hopeless that she was planning one last meal before she and her son would both die of starvation. At this point the widow interests me. Was she a realist or a defeatist? I want to think she was whipped and tired of struggling on her own. Life had gotten so tough that even death might have been appealing. She probably didn’t have a neighbor to encourage her to hang on one more day because who knew what Jehovah God would do? One more flour and oil cake and they were ready for the grave. Or were they?

            God was going to do something, but faith was still very much involved, as always.  The widow met the prophet Elijah, who was hungry, too. He asked her for something to eat, and she revealed to him her sad plan. The first thing he told her was, “Don’t be afraid.” I would have probably said, “I’m really sorry. I’ll ask someone else.” Unruffled, Elijah told her to go home and make a meal for him. He didn’t say, “Make a meal for all three of us.”  He said, “Make me a meal and bring it to me.” And if she did this, he said, the flour and oil would not run out until the drought was over.

            I know I’d be thinking or saying a lot of things after that offer: “Yeah, sure. You’ll eat and leave town after I’ve given you everything.”  “Feed a stranger before I feed my child? No way. That’s irresponsible parenting.” “How about if you eat after us, and then God can keep things filled up?”

            In a way she could see food for the foreseeable future, at least in her mind’s eye from the promise, which doesn’t always happen with faith. And yet, there was still that niggling risk that’s at stake when faith is on the table.

            Could she let go of what she thought she had to have in order to get what she truly needed? That’s always the question, isn’t it? Can we let go so God can do his work in us?

            Perhaps the widow figured she was only one meal away from starvation anyway, so why not hasten the process? Or she may have decided that it was worth the risk and took a chance. I want very much to believe that at least a modicum of faith was involved.  She did do what Elijah said, and she, her son, and the prophet ate every day afterwards—from a little bit of faith. I believe it was there. To some degree she believed, took action, releasing the very last bit she had for another, and God gave her all she needed.

            I would like to have mounds of faith, but I’m glad that even when I have but a pittance and let go of what’s in my hands that God will provide the rest of what I need.