When It All Gets Too Much
A Meditation on 1 Kings 19:9-18
WHAT’S THE POINT OF SACREDNESS?
A few months ago, I picked up a Christian internet troll. At first, he left odd comments insisting that my posts, which he hadn’t read, were too intellectual and complicated and that all I should be talking about was Jesus. Over time, he started posting similar comments on all of my posts. And then he started accusing me of arrogance and leading people astray. But what seemed most troubling to my troll was my use of the word ‘sacred’. For some reason that I still cannot fathom, this one word became the focus of his attacks. I tried to explain that, for me, sacredness was at the heart of the Scriptures and of any spiritual path, but it seemed to be blasphemy and apostacy to him.
Since leaving active pastoral ministry, I have discovered that many people view words like sacred, spirituality, faith, and God with suspicion. These words, and many others that are common in religious circles, have often been weaponised and have brought great harm to people. Yet I can’t shake the sense that these words point to something important; something that we need more of in this world, not less.
It seems I’m not alone in this sense. People with no religious axe to grind, like Sam Harris, Christopher Hitchens, and Carl Sagan, have found value and meaning in speaking about spirituality and sacredness,1 and Albert Einstein is reported to have claimed that the mystical emotion is the highest emotion of all.2
One of the most important shifts in my own spiritual evolution was learning to expand my understanding of the vocabulary of faith beyond religious experiences and institutions. For the last two decades, I have been exploring and writing about sacredness as a universal reality that permeates the cosmos in this life, not just the next. I am now convinced that the quality of our life and relationships is, to a large degree, determined by our capacity to identify, recover, and nurture sacredness in the chaos of our ever-evolving world.
And this brings me to the prophet Elijah and one of the best-known, most quoted episodes in his life.
THE BURNED OUT PROPHET
1 Kings 19:9-18, which is the reading from the Hebrew Scriptures for Proper 14A in the Lectionary, is usually seen as a guide for spirituality 101, in which we are taught to listen for God’s “still, small voice”. But Elijah’s trauma and depression seldom enter this safe, sanitised picture. This passage is filled with contrasts and contradictions that reveal the complexity of Elijah’s faith, but somehow we resist the thought that our own spiritual lives are the same—and we are poorer for it.
In the Chapter immediately before this story, Elijah was on a spiritual high. He had just taken on the false prophets under the protection of King Ahab and Queen Jezebel, and won. Following his victory, the drought on the land was broken, and his message as a true prophet had been vindicated. But the King and Queen cared nothing for truth, and so they vowed to have Elijah killed. On hearing this, Elijah fell into a deep depression and asked God to take his life. After running away into the wilderness, where he fell asleep, Elijah was visited twice by a messenger of God who gave him food and water. Feeling a little stronger, he then decided to go to “Horeb, the mount of God”, otherwise known as Mount Sinai, where Moses met with God in the burning bush and received the law.
The account of Elijah’s meeting with God has echoes of Moses’ experience throughout. He climbed up as Moses did (Exod. 19:20), and he found shelter in a cave as Moses did when God decided to pass by (Exod. 33:13–23). God’s appearance even resulted in strong winds, earthquakes, and fire, as when God appeared to the Israelites (Exod. 20:18).3 This whole scene should communicate triumph and glory, but instead, it is filled with Elijah’s sense of defeat and exhaustion. When God asked him what he was doing there, Elijah’s reply was filled with despair and grief (1 Kings 19:9).
In contemporary terms, we would probably say that Elijah was burned out. As often happens, the collapse came immediately after a high,4 but it was the result of a long season in which he was unsafe, under threat, and constantly anxious. It is in Elijah’s breakdown that God met with the prophet, and the meeting has much to teach us about finding sacredness and life in the midst of chaos and turmoil.
A MEASURE OF RESTORATION
Elijah’s encounter with God did not completely heal the prophet from his trauma, but it did restore him enough that he was able to continue his work for a time, and then pass the mantle on. Some scholars see this meeting as God “firing” Elijah, who clung to his unbelief and left the experience unchanged.5 But for me, it was a moment of grace in Elijah’s life, and it sustained him enough that he was able to return to his work, even though his capacity may have been diminished. Despite his burnout and the threats on his life, the prophet made several wise and restorative choices that enabled him to find the relief and strength he needed.
The first thing Elijah did was to retreat to a safe place. In doing this, he created distance between himself and the threats and bought himself time to process and heal. His first stop in the wilderness was little more than an emergency refuge to allow him to gather resources for the longer journey to Horeb. The choice to finally go to the Mount of God was born out of the faith that he could encounter God there, free from the threatening distractions that would have made it very difficult to sense the divine presence.
It is always a good idea, when we are faced with exhaustion, anxiety, and burnout, to ensure we have a safe refuge in which we can hide and find safety. Trauma cannot be healed while further pain is being inflicted. We need to create distance from whatever is wounding us, and allow ourselves time to reset, regulate, and restore before we face whatever new challenges await us.
This is an essential principle in any restorative sacred practice. While God can be encountered and experienced anywhere, creating a sacred space, free from demands, threats, and overwhelm, allows us to become more aware of the divine presence and to be more receptive to the divine life and strength we need. The Celtic Christians knew this, and they spoke about such sacred spaces as ‘thin places’ where the veil between our pragmatic human world and the mystical world becomes thin and permeable.6
Having found his safe space, Elijah released his high-alert state and allowed himself to pause, breathe, and begin to relax. He found a simple cave in which to take refuge and released the dramatic signs and experiences which had been the centre of his life just a few days before on Mount Carmel (1 Kings 18:20–40). It’s not that God does not sometimes speak through dramatic or awe-inspiring events; it’s that in that moment Elijah needed something far less energetic and overwhelming.7 And so, when the wind, earthquake, and fire came, Elijah stayed in his cave and ignored them. It was only when the “sound of sheer silence” (19:12 NRSV) followed that he went to the mouth of the cave to meet with God.
When God asked a second time why he was there, Elijah responded with the same answer as before and expressed the full force of his grief and fear. While it may seem that Elijah’s dramatic experience had little effect on him, the truth is that in the silence, he knew he could now be heard, and so he voiced his pain again. And this time God responded. Elijah needed the pause, the space to breathe, and the quieter, less intense, more relaxed setting to be able to process his trauma. And that is what God gave him.
Whenever we face exhaustion, overwhelm, and burnout, finding a way to build small pauses, breathing practices, and moments to relax is essential. These small breaks—sabbaths—can make the difference between survival and complete collapse.
God’s response to Elijah’s grief held healing power not just because God gave Elijah specific guidance on his next steps, but because God reframed the story. Elijah had come to believe that he was the only one left who was faithful to God’s ways. He had forgotten Obadiah’s account of saving a hundred prophets from Jezebel’s killing spree (18:13). So, God reminded him that he wasn’t alone, and that there were seven thousand others who had remained faithful (19:18). God also instructed him to enlist specific people to help him in his work (although we need to read the way God describes their role through the lens of the time, and not as a description of how God’s work is to be done) (19:15–17).8
One of the most transformative and healing sacred practices available to us is the re-storying of our lives. When we are in distress, we tend to frame what is happening in negative and threatening ways. But if we can step back, identify what we’re leaving out and what we are overemphasising, and then retell our story in a more objective and hopeful way, the impact can be miraculous.
After this encounter with God, Elijah found the strength to return to his ministry. He continued to challenge Ahab (21:17–24), and he called Elisha to be his apprentice. But he didn’t manage to anoint Hazael or Jehu—Elisha did that.9 This may seem like disobedience, but perhaps it was more that Elijah realised that he only needed to do what was his to do, and he could allow others to complete the work. There is a sense here that Elijah had learned to protect his physical and mental health better than before, and he had given himself permission to operate in a more sustainable way.
It is common for us to try to overcome our trauma and anxiety by taking on more than we can manage. But it is only when we allow ourselves to release what is not ours and do only what is ours to do that we can find the health and sustainability we need. These practices may not bring complete healing—we often need more drastic interventions for that, and some traumas may remain with us forever, albeit with less power over us. But when we can employ practices such as these in our times of chaos, they do offer us a measure of restoration that can make all the difference.
A SACRED PRACTICE TO SUSTAIN US
As we meditate on Elijah’s experience, it can be helpful to apply his practices to small and specific aspects of our lives. Here is a simple practice to help you do just that.
Begin by creating a safe space for yourself. Or if you already have one, spend a moment allowing yourself to relax and be conscious of your safety in your space.
When you are ready, pause for a few minutes. Don’t try to do anything or think through anything. Allow your mind to freewheel, and let the thoughts come and go without trying to control them.
Then, when you are ready, turn your attention to your breath and give yourself a few minutes to breathe slowly and deeply. Be aware of the breath entering, energising, and leaving your body, and allow yourself to relax a little more.
Finally, identify an area of your life which is causing you great anxiety or is sapping your energy and spirit. Become conscious of how you are framing the story of this experience, and begin to explore ways you can re-story this situation so that it is more objective, less defined by your anxiety, and more hopeful. You may need to take a few days or even weeks to do this re-storying work, but as you do, become aware of how it shifts your attitudes and expectations.
End your practice with a few more deep breaths and a moment in which you focus on something beautiful, wonderful, or joyful. Then return to your routines and relationships until your next opportunity to repeat this practice.
On a personal note, I find myself identifying with Elijah strongly at the moment, although for very different reasons. But whenever people ask me how I’m coping, one of my first responses is to share how grateful I am that the spiritual practices I have been teaching and writing about for decades are now sustaining me in this time of grief. Among those practices are the ones in this article—the same ones that have been helping people to recover and nurture sacredness in our chaotic world for millennia. Perhaps you will find them meaningful in whatever chaos you’re facing too.
Sam Harris. Waking Up: Searching for Spirituality Without Religion. (Transworld Publishers, 2014), Kindle, 6-10.
Quoted in Bruce Sanguin. The Way of the Wind: The Path and Practice of Evolutionary Christian Mysticism (Veriditas Press, 2015), Kindle, Location 524.
Vanessa Lovelace, “Commentary on 1 Kings 19:9-18,” Working Preacher, August 13, 2023; https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-19/commentary-on-isaiah-551-5-7.
Christopher Davis, “Commentary on 1 Kings 19:9-18,” Working Preacher, August 9, 2020; https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-19/commentary-on-1-kings-199-18.
Wil Gafney, “Commentary on 1 Kings 19:9-18,” Working Preacher, August 9, 2026; https://www.workingpreacher.org/commentaries/revised-common-lectionary/ordinary-19/commentary-on-1-kings-199-18-6.
Marcus J. Borg. The Heart of Christianity: Rediscovering a Life of Faith. (HarperCollins, 2003), Kindle, 179.
Davis, “Commentary on 1 Kings 19:9-18.”
Iain W. Provan, “1 Kings,” The New Interpreter’s Bible One-Volume Commentary. Beverly Gaventa Roberts and David L. Petersen, eds. (Abingdon Press, 2010), Kindle, 598–599.
Chan, “Commentary on 1 Kings 19:9-18.”