“Now Elijah the Tishbite, of Tishbe in Gilead, said to Ahab, “As the LORD the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word.” (1 Kings 17:1)
If you work your way through Israel’s story in the Old Testament, you eventually get to know Elijah. He’s impossible to miss. So important to Israel is Elijah that the prophet Malachi sees him returning in the future to prepare Israel for God to make a new, apocalyptic entrance into human history. So important to Israel is Elijah that when John the Baptist and Jesus begin their ministries, people suspect that either one of them might be the returned Elijah in disguise. So important to Israel is Elijah that when Jesus is transfigured, thus making the veil between heaven and earth paper thin, Elijah steps forward from beyond that veil along with Moses as embodiments of the Law and the Prophets.
For someone with such a legacy in Israel’s history and ongoing imagination, we’re a bit taken aback that this verse at the beginning of 1 Kings 17 is our entire introduction to Elijah. It’s not only the first words we hear from him, but the very first mention of his name in the whole Bible. He gets no backstory, no history, no context, no resumé, nothing with which we can get to know him at a comfortable pace. Unlike Moses and David, we know nothing of his origins and childhood. One moment the story knows no Elijah at all; the next moment, here he is in full view, announcing an immanent drought that will last for years. We probably wouldn’t expect someone with a legacy as favorable as Elijah’s to begin in such an abrupt way with such unwelcome news.
The narrative of 1 Kings is humming along with no hint that Elijah’s entrance is coming. However, we are aware by this point that the story has gone off the rails and something fresh is needed. Israel’s King Ahab is the worst of the worst. Every bad quality of past kings is bundled up together in Ahab.
And so enters the prophet.
There is no drumroll, no warmup, no preamble. Here he is, ready or not. This abrupt entrance is itself a stunning statement of the character of both the prophet and the God who calls the prophet. It subverts our preoccupation with pedigrees, resumés and reputations. Israel’s kings and priests were born into the roll. The apostle Paul was expected by the Corinthian church to hoist a letter of recommendation from some reputable source before they would take him seriously. In our world today, it’s not uncommon for children to work for their parents, sometimes in ways that are openly nepotistic.
And so enters the prophet.
While it’s not a bad thing to want some backstory and context, God is free to speak without it, and so is the prophet. The prophet acts as a glitch in the programming of pedigrees, resumés and reputations. God is more than happy to bypass the usual channels through which we derive meaning. The more comfortable we are with the status quo, the more unwelcome the prophet will be (Elijah consistently finds himself an unwelcome guest). God won’t wait for us to sort through and find the letter of recommendation that makes us feel comfortable. He will speak, ready or not, and so will the prophet, interrupting business as usual. Are we ready to listen?
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