I’m deeply impressed by the man’s gentleness. Though Elijah deserved none of the woman’s blame, he stood silent under her blast. That’s gentleness. Someone, somewhere, has called this fruit of the Spirit “the mint-mark of heaven.” When it is present in a highly-charged setting such as this, it becomes a testimony of the Spirit of God at work in the one who could lash back, but doesn’t. It is His life, at that gentle and tender moment, being made evident.
I am also impressed with this grieving mother. She, without question or hesitation, places her precious, lifeless son into Elijah’s arms. Perhaps the prophet’s gentleness suddenly melted her and prompted her, once again, to trust him.
Then, Elijah, the man of God, silently climbed the stairway to the room where he had been doing battle before God on a regular basis. I say this because I believe that Elijah had spent hours, even days, on his knees in that room. He had formed that habit while alone with his God at Cherith.
Do you have a room like that—a place where you meet with God? Do you have a quiet retreat where you and the Lord do regular business together? If you don’t, I strongly urge you to provide yourself just such a place—your own prophet’s chamber where you and God can meet together. It will be there that you will prepare yourself for life’s contingencies. Without it, you’ll lack the necessary steel in your foundation of faith.
What do you do when tragedy strikes? What do you do when a test comes? What’s your first response? Is it to complain? To be angry? To blame? To try to reason your way out of it? Or have you formed the habit of doing what Elijah did? Do you go to your special place and get alone with God? Elijah provides a wonderful example for us. No panic. No fear. No rush. No doubt.
Excerpted from Charles R. Swindoll, Great Days with the Great Lives (Nashville: W Publishing Group, 2005). Copyright © 2005 by Charles R. Swindoll, Inc. All rights reserved. Used by permission.