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“WHAT HAVE YOU DONE FOR ME LATELY?”

Have you ever wondered what happens the day AFTER a Billy Graham crusade? I imagine the arena is littered with brochures and song sheets; pre-printed “decision cards” that nobody filled out are left on the empty seats. Someone still hasn’t taken down the posters that were hanging out in the foyer, and instead of the electricity of the music, the preaching, the power of the Holy Spirit . . . now there’s just quiet. The lights are dim and the excitement is over.

And how about the John Doe Christian or the Jane Doe New Believer? Last night their heart was touched by Pastor Graham’s powerful message and appeal. “Come to Jesus,” he said, and at the moment that seemed like the most natural thing in the world to do. One of Billy’s favorite musicians was singing — maybe our own Walter Arties, in fact, who works right here at the Voice of Prophecy. And the organ was playing, and others all around were going forward to make their decision for Christ, and the momentum was all heading right toward the kingdom of God and the pearly gates.

But that was yesterday. That was last night. All the Holy Ghost power was thick in the air last night. Today there doesn’t seem to be any. The music is gone, the crowds are gone, the Calvary flavor is gone, and the feeling is gone. You’ve got to go to work where non-Christians are still using their four-letter words. You’ve got to cope with three children who won’t pipe down while you get breakfast. You’ve got to deal with the brand new fact that your brand new car in the parking lot has a brand new dent in the fender. And the Christian joy of yesterday seems like a long ways off.

Have you ever been through that? On top of Mount Carmel one moment, and down in the Valley of Vexation the next? Brave today and scared tomorrow?

Probably one of the great roller coaster rides of all time — spiritually speaking, that is — happens right here in the story of the prophet Elijah. Speaking of huge crowds at a Billy Graham crusade, Elijah sure packed out the coliseum there on the top of Mount Carmel. And there was Holy Ghost power to spare when the Lord God Almighty of heaven sent down fire FROM heaven and burned up the offering. Elijah’s altar call — you remember the line: “How long halt ye between two decisions?” — was hugely effective, and the entire population of Israel bowed down in the dirt, prostrated themselves, and committed their lives to God. “The Lord — He is God! The Lord — He is God!”, they all said over and over. It was wonderful.

Then the promised rain came, and as we studied yesterday, even a 20-mile mini-marathon through the storm and the mud didn’t discourage Elijah as he led his former enemy, King Ahab, down the mountain and all the way to Jezreel. Elijah’s coat was wet, but his heart was singing. Maybe now, after the three years of apostasy, Israel was about to turn a spiritual corner. King Ahab was on fire, ready to sign a decision card for the Lord. It had been a wonderful, Spirit-anointed day; that’s for sure.

There’s only one problem. After the Billy Graham crusade and the altar call was over, King Ahab went home to his wife. Which undid everything. He told her about the fire coming down. He told her about the crowds bowing down. And he also told her about the sword of execution coming down on the necks of the 450 false prophets of Baal. And wicked Queen Jezebel wrote a message on palace stationery and sent it via messenger to the prophet Elijah. It read as follows:

“May the gods deal with me, be it ever so severely, if by this time tomorrow I do not make your life like that of one of them.”

Now why she didn’t just send an assassin right then instead of a message about an assassin, we don’t know. Maybe Jezebel enjoyed inflicting mental torment on her intended victims. But Elijah, who had already run almost a full marathon that very day, didn’t wait to participate in a cat-and-mouse game with her royal majesty. The Bible tells us that he put on his track shoes again and fled for his life; he didn’t stop running until he got clear to the town of Beersheba, which was a good hundred miles south of Jezreel.

And we have to wonder why. Elijah has just come from an overpowering, compelling demonstration of the power of God. I mean, on the top of Mount Carmel, Queen Jezebel’s god, Baal, was a total bust . . . and Elijah’s God, Jehovah, was triumphant beyond description. God had showed that He could hold up the rain or send it. He could send down fire from heaven. He could feed Elijah with bread from ravens. God could do anything He wanted to do. So what did Elijah have to be afraid of now?

We’ve been finding some great sound bites in a marvelous old book written in the late 1800s by Christian author Ellen White, entitled Prophets and Kings. Here’s what she has to say:

“It would seem that after showing courage so undaunted, after triumphing so completely over king and priests and people, Elijah could never afterward have given way to despondency, nor been awed into timidity. But he who had been blessed with so many evidences of God’s loving care, was not above the frailties of mankind, and in this dark hour his faith and courage forsook him.”

So soon after God had done so much to reveal His power, Elijah had an overwhelming case of “What have you done for me lately, Lord.” And after running that ultra-marathon to Beersheba, he leaves his servant behind and goes another day’s journey into the wilderness all by himself. And there, collapsing under a broom tree, he essentially gives up. Here’s verse four:
“‘I have had enough, Lord,’ he said. ‘Take my life; I am no better than my ancestors.’”

We were leafing through a Bible curriculum study that people in my denomination used as a resource recently. It was written by Dr. Beatrice Neall, and she had a couple of lines that bear mentioning here. Her title, by the way, was “Letdown at Horeb,” and that’s exactly what Elijah was feeling. But observation number one is this:

“Faith feeds upon the memories of God’s past leading.”

We say about others — and about Elijah — “How quickly they forget.” But what about us? Has it really been that long since we had our own wonderful Mount Carmel moment, where the power of God was strong and FELT? And yet, just a few days or hours later, we’re discouraged. The music in the arena has died down, and we find it hard to serve God in the quiet of later, when the feeling has evaporated.

Dr. Neall’s second comment is equally true:

“The valley of depression is Satan’s rut to trip the child of God.”

And here under that lonely tree in the wilderness, Elijah tripped right into the enemy’s trench of temptation. “I give up,” he told God. Here’s how it reads in the Clear Word paraphrase, which is always so interesting:

“Lord, I’ve had it. I can’t take any more. Please let me die. I’m no better than my ancestors. I scored a victory for you on Mount Carmel and then ran from a woman.”

Well, we want to think some more about that enemy trench tomorrow, but let’s salvage some good news right here. Elijah falls into a fitful sleep after his hundred-mile trek to nowhere, and when he wakes up, there’s an angel. And the messenger of God doesn’t yell at him for his cowardice, his lack of faith. No, the angel simply feeds him a good heaven-cooked meal. In fact, after a second nap, the angel has more food for him.

“Get up and eat,” he says gently, “for the journey is too much for you.”

Isn’t that nice? The same writer, Ellen White, adds this concluding thought:

“Into the experience of all there come times of keen disappointment and utter discouragement” – don’t we know it? – “days when sorrow is the portion, and it is hard to believe that God is still the kind benefactor of His earthborn children; days when troubles harass the soul, till death seems preferable to life. It is then that many lose their hold on God, and are brought into the slavery of doubt, the bondage of unbelief. Could we at such times discern with spiritual insight the meaning of God’s providences, we should see angels seeking to save us from ourselves, striving to plant our feet upon a foundation more firm than the everlasting hills; and new faith, new life, would spring into being.”

Isn’t that tremendous? Friend, I know you and I can’t see the angels . . . but they’re there. Maybe we’re not getting a home-cooked meal from Gabriel, but that doesn’t mean he and his armies aren’t all around you right now. Invisible doesn’t mean imaginary. Maybe your own Billy Graham moment was yesterday, and today your arena’s yawning empty. That doesn’t mean Jesus Christ isn’t in your heart now just as much as 24 hours ago; Calvary’s just as true here on Tuesday as it was on Monday or any other day where you had a power encounter with the Holy Spirit.

It’s something for all of God’s saints to remember: Elijah and those of us struggling with doubt here in the 21st century. Even when the stadium is empty, our hearts can still be full.