1 Kings 17:2-7 And the word of the LORD came to him, saying,… I. A GREAT NATIONAL CALAMITY. A nation without rain or dew for three years and a half! "And," it is said in the next chapter, "there was a sore famine in Samara." "National panics are to be regarded as steps in the demonstration of some great problem of government which Almighty God is working out for the advancement and sanctification of the world." II. THE CARE OF DIVINE PROVIDENCE. The calamities which befall nations visit also the people of God who dwell in them. The tares and the wheat grow up together; and if the tares are withered for lack of moisture, the wheat suffers from the same cause. As a principle, God does not exempt His people from their share of national calamity and sorrow. But, although He permits His people to suffer in the midst of a general visitation, He never forgets or forsakes them. "Many are the afflictions of the righteous, but the Lord delivereth him out of them all." Elijah had his part in the national distress, but the Lord remembered His servant. The modern history of God's providence furnishes many instances of suit and service rendered to His people by the animal creation, scarcely less wonderful than the supply of Elijah by ravens. I will relate one. Far up in one of the Highland glens, lived a poor but pious woman named Jenny Maclean. One day when her food was almost exhausted, and she was intending to take a journey to get a fresh supply, a heavy snowstorm came on. Never had been seen in that locality such a constant and heavy fall, with such deep snow-drifts. When the heavens at last became clear, the whole face of the country seemed changed. It was some time before the thought suddenly occurred to a shepherd, "What has old Jenny been doing all this time?" No sooner was her name mentioned than she at once became the theme of general conversation. But for many days, such was the state of the weather, that no mortal feet could wade through the snow-wreaths, or buffet the successive storms that swept down with blinding fury from the hills. Jenny was given up as lost. At last, three men resolved, on the first day that made the attempt possible, to proceed up the long and dreary glen, and search for Jenny. They reached a rock at an angle where the glen takes a turn to the left, and where the old woman's cottage ought to have been seen. But nothing met the eye except a smooth, white sheet of glittering snow, surmounted by black rocks; and all below was silent as the sky above. No sign of life greeted the eye or ear. The men spoke not a word, but muttered some exclamations of sorrow. Suddenly one of them cried, "She is alive! for I see smoke." They pushed bravely on. When they reached the hut, nothing was visible except the two chimneys; and even these were lower than the snow-wreath. There was no immediate entrance but by one of the chimneys. A shepherd first called to Jenny down the chimney, and asked if she was alive; but before receiving a reply, a large fox sprang out of the chimney, and darted off to the rocks. "Alive!" replied Jenny, "but thank God you have come to see me! I cannot say come in by the door; but come down — come down." In a few minutes her three friends easily descended by the chimney, and were shaking Jenny warmly by the hand. "O woman!" said they, "how have you lived all this time?" "Sit down, and I will tell you," said old Jenny, whose feelings now gave way in a fit of hysterical weeping. After composing herself, she continued, "How did I live? you ask, Sandy? I may say just as I have always lived, by the power and goodness of God, who feeds the wild beasts." "The wild beasts, indeed!" replied Sandy, drying his eyes; "did you know that a wild beast was in your house? Did you see the fox that jumped out of your chimney as we entered? My blessings on the dear beast!" said Jenny, with fervour. "May no huntsman ever kill it! and may it never want food in summer or winter!" The shepherds looked at one another by the dim light of Jenny's fire, evidently believing that she had become slightly insane. "Stop, lads," she continued, "till I tell you the story. I had in the house, when the storm began, the goat and two hens. Fortunately, I had fodder gathered for the goat, which kept it alive, although, poor thing, it has had but scanty meals. I had also peats for my fire, but very little meal. Yet I never lived better, and I have been able besides to preserve my two bonnie hens for summer. I every day dined on flesh meat too, a thing I have not done for years before; and thus have I lived like a lady." "Where did you get meat from?" they asked. "From the old fox," she replied. "The day of the storm he looked into the chimney, and came slowly down, and set himself on the rafter beside the hens, yet never once touched them. He every day provided for himself and me too. He brought in game in abundance for his own dinner — a hare almost every day — and what he left I got, and washed, and cooked, and ate, and so I have never wanted. Now that he is gone, you have come to relieve me." "God's ways are past finding out!" said the men, bowing down their heads with reverence. "Praise the Lord!" said Jenny, "Who giveth food to the hungry." This incident was related by an old clergyman who attended Jenny's funeral. How much like the supply of Elijah by the brook Cherith! Why are we surprised almost to scepticism at such facts? III. THE EXERCISE OF HUMAN SYMPATHY. It came to pass, after a while, that the brook dried up, because there had been no rain in the land. The continued drought and heat of the sun gradually lessened the stream; it dried to a narrow thread; then that narrow thread dwindled and disappeared, and Elijah was left by the brook, with no prospect before him but to perish, unless the Lord interposed to save him. The Lord did interpose; and mark how — "The word of the Lord came unto him, saying, Arise, get thee to Zarephath." IV. THE REWARD OF CHEERFUL GENEROSITY. Elijah found the widow gathering sticks to dress her last handful of meal for herself and son, that they might eat it and die. Elijah said unto her, "Fear not." The word of the Lord comes to us with a promise similar in principle. "The liberal soul shall be made fat, and he that watereth shall be watered himself." That is God's principle of recompense still. "He that hath pity on the poor lendeth to the Lord, and that which he hath given will He pay him again." If that is true, if the Word of the Lord is to be relied on, then no man is the poorer for what he gives to the poor. Lending to the Lord, the Lord becomes his creditor: and surely He may be trusted with our deposits. As good Matthew Henry says, "What is laid out in charity or pity, is lent out on the best interest, upon the best security." (J. H. Wood.) Parallel Verses KJV: And the word of the LORD came unto him, saying, |
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