The Cave
Based on 1 Kings 19:9-13
Night falls, as I stumble, half crawl, into a cave on the mountain. The darkness enfolds me like a tomb. Grief and exhaustion pull at me, weighing down my aching limbs; yet sleep eludes me. Angry voices swarm through my thoughts like stinging wasps. Even here I am not alone.
I am startled by the sound of a voice. Was I asleep?
“What are you doing here, Elijah?”
-Lord? Don’t you know why I’m here? Haven’t you seen me? Don’t you care?
…
You said you will come. So I will stand here on the mountainside until you do. I wait and wait.
Nothing.
Then the wind starts to blow.
-Is it you? Are you here?
The breeze swells to a howling wind. At the first crash, I am driven back against the wall of the cave. Shivers crawl up my spine. Rocks rain down like a waterfall as the mountain tears itself apart.
You are not in the wind.
…
The winds die down. I barely catch my breath when the very ground beneath me starts to shake. The sound rumbles louder than thunder. I cover my ears. I cannot block out the sound.
-“WHERE ARE YOU, GOD???” I scream my throat raw but no one hears.
My voice is drowned out by the incessant roar. Will it never stop?
The earth settles but I am still shaking. I rock back and forth, back and forth, in the darkness of the cave.
You are not in the earthquake.
…
Still, I wait. I will not leave until you come.
An acrid smell wafts into the cave, tickling my throat. I begin to cough; smoke burns my lungs. Fire consumes what is left from the wind and quake. It burns and burns until I think there must be nothing left. The heat grows until my bones are molten within me. I lie down and think maybe I will die here in this cave.
Just when I think I can bear no more, the fire leaves as quickly as it came. I rest curled in a ball while ashes drift in and cover me.
You are not in the fire.
…
Just then I hear your gentle whisper on a cool breeze.
Elijah…
I am afraid of what I will see.
I am afraid of what You will see in me.
Come out…
Your loving voice washes over me.
I cover my face with my cloak. On trembling legs, I come out of the darkness, to meet my God.
By Alison Wagler
photo credit:Luke Chui
