The thing about grief is that it’s messy. It’s complicated and often confusing. One moment our ship is sailing steadfast, headed straight for all tomorrow holds. Then suddenly, without warning we face an iceberg straight ahead. At times the sorrows sweep us swiftly, casting us overboard in soundless ache. Other moments its marks creep upon us slowly over months and years that lay ahead. We drop our anchor, letting it drag slowly along ocean’s bed of grief. But in the end it doesn’t matter how the sufferings hit us, because where no to griefs hold the exact same shades of sorrow, one thing they all bear is pain.
God commands us to cry. Yet, I’m convinced many of us aren’t very good at it. Tears can make us uncomfortable. Perhaps we see them as a sign of weakness. Or maybe we think crying will encourage us to sit in a pit of bitterness where we may give way to questioning God's sovereignty. The pages of Scripture are covered with ash and sorrow, yet we can struggle to wear heartache on our sleeves. Anticipated rejection can feed our fears, causing us to seclude. But the truth is the fear isn’t always unsound. Some of us have been ignored in our deepest suffering, or told it’s time to move on. Or worse still, there are those who have received counsel from Job’s friends, lectured that the burden is because of sin they bear. Where it may not always come easily to us, the command, "weep with those who weep," comes simple just the same. So, we must ask ourselves, “What does it mean to sit near another’s grief, underneath the juniper tree?”
The juniper tree begins with the bold prophet Elijah. His life is dazzling. He raised men from the dead, was fed by ravens, and was sustained by a poor widow in Zarephath. Throughout his ministry he brought the word of the Lord faithfully, even in the midst of persecution. His awe-striking ascent into heaven on chariots of fire served to further humiliate Baal and foreshadowed the ascent of Jesus Christ. And perhaps most famously, his showdown and victory against the prophets of Baal at Mount Carmel brought the confession, “The Lord, He is the God!” It’s little wonder that when Jesus was transfigured, Elijah was next to Moses, talking with the Lord.
However, following Elijah’s triumph at Carmel, queen Jezebel labels Elijah a dead man. In fear, Elijah forsakes his calling, separates himself from his servant, and runs for the vast wilderness that the Israelites had wandered many years ago. The further he flees, the deeper his soul sinks into despair. Then, in a barren land, the fearless warrior stumbles upon a solitary tree. He casts himself beneath its shade, and begs the Lord to take away his life. And in physical exhaustion, he collapses in sleep. An angel then appears, touches him, and bids him to rise and eat. “And he did eat and drink and laid him down again.” (1 Kings 19:6). The pre-incarnate Christ comes a second time, commanding Elijah to eat again, for the journey that lay ahead of him would be great.
For forty days Elijah travels to the same mountain where Moses had spent forty days and forty nights with God. It was the same mountain that had once been enveloped by smoke, had echoed with thunder and lightning, and had roared with earthquakes when Moses received the commandments of the covenant. And it was the same mountain where God appeared in the burning bush, as well as where God's glory had passed by Moses. Therefore, upon arriving at Horeb’s cave, Elijah would have been reminded of God’s past faithfulness.
In this place of remembrance, darkness still enshrouding his soul, God enquires Elijah for the first time. God’s question is both simple and thought provoking-filled with both gentleness and rebuke. “The word of the Lord came to him, and he said unto him, What doest thou here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:9) Elijah’s response seems to be thought out, for he repeats it twice, word for word (19:10, 14). “I have been very jealous for the LORD God of hosts: for the children of Israel have forsaken thy covenant, thrown down thine altars, and slain thy prophets with the sword: and I, even I only, am left; and they seek my life, to take it away.” Me Lord. I have been jealous over Thee. And they want to kill me. Elijah’s circumstances are swallowing him up-drowning him in self-pity, self-righteousness, over exaggeration, and forgetfulness. So quickly, his gaze shifts from the mighty Lord to his own achievements and experiences.
God instructs Elijah- “Go forth, and stand upon the mount before the LORD.” (19:11) Yet, in ongoing spiritual struggle, Elijah appears to decline. For it is only after God’s power and gentleness kiss beautifully that we see Elijah slowly exit his cave of self comfort (19:13). As Elijah cowers in the back of the grotto, a strong wind breaks forth, rending rock and mountain…yet the LORD was not in the wind. Then the earth ruptures in mighty display, but the LORD cannot be found in the earthquake either. Finally, fire bolts down from heaven, but the LORD’s presence isn’t in the fire either. “And after the fire a still small voice.” (vs 12). And there…the LORD was in the voice. “And when it was so, when Elijah heard it, that he wrapped his face in his mantle, and went out, and stood in the entering of the cave. And, behold, there came a voice unto him, and said, What doest thou here, Elijah?” (19:13) The question is repeated in order to prick, and Elijah's answer is exactly the same…I have done all this, and only I am left. God’s assurance falls as light rain to parched field- There are still 7,000 that have not bowed the knee to Baal. Return. Anoint kings who will carry out my judgments. Train Elisha as your successor. I was with you. I am with you. I will always be with you.
Gods mercy and understanding toward Elijah is nothing short of amazing. From the moment God kept watch over Elijah under the broom tree until His gentle voice commanded him to return, we see exampled what it means to draw near tenderly. When God sought out Elijah in his dark despair, God didn’t come with preachy words or criticism. He didn’t send fire from heaven in judgment, or just leave Elijah sitting there. On the contrary-He waited patiently for His child to recuperate. Where He knew Elijah’s sorrow was a spiritual problem at root, He also understood it was a complex sorrow-one that was riddled by fatigue, isolation, spiritual opposition, and the normal rhythms of human emotion. Before anything else, God met Elijah’s physical needs. The pre-incarnate Christ prepared a meal for Elijah just as He did for His disciples after His resurrection. And just as Jesus used the event of feeding His disciples as the beginning of Peter’s restoration (John 21), so also He restored the spirit of Elijah after first giving him meat. In his weakness, anything more than a gentle God would have been too much for Elijah to bear. So God’s voice came just as it did to the Israelites when they received the law (Exodus 19:19)…in the voice of the wilderness.
When we aren’t beneath the juniper, it’s easy to have quick answers for others who lay slumped beneath saplings of sorrow. Our own experiences often branch forth, blinding us from the leaves of others trees. We can unknowingly shoot forth thorns of condemnation, whether in our hearts or deeds. Of the abused wife we can say, “I would never let my husband take my spiritual assurance away…she just needs to suffer for Christ's sake.” But our ignorance and pride has us far from her juniper tree. Of the one who mourns a loved one, we may wonder, “It’s been quite some time, how can they be downcast still?” Of the one longing for a spouse, it's easy to say, “Put yourself out there,” or “ be content with the Lord’s will.” To the couple praying for a baby, perhaps we assume adoption is the answer to their heart wrenching pain. When it comes to the sexually abused who struggle to forget, it is easy to add touches of blame to the touches that have already been taken for ungodly gain. Of those preventing children perhaps the thought comes, “Don’t they know children are a blessing?” Of the one taking medication for depression or anxiety, is there temptation to think, “You need to trust God more. Why put pills in your body, when it's the heart that needs to be fixed?” Where it’s true, one must take deep decision-making and sorrow to God in prayer, we must remember the intricacy of struggles. Whether our brother or sister is like blameless Job who rent his clothes, or similar to Elijah whose grief although holding sin, was also complex, we must remember that griefs wounds aren’t always a quick fix. We must ask ourselves, “Are we portraying the Jesus of the juniper tree?” Are we bending and breaking, ready to listen and learn? Do we come with soft tone, in the strength of His patience, with thought provoking words, ready to walk near the one wandering the wilderness?
For those who sit beneath juniper trees-I’m sorry for the times I haven’t sat and wept well. Please don’t seclude-even when you are weary, unsure if others will understand. Sadly, we just don’t know what we don’t know, and we have a lot to learn about one another’s juniper trees. Elijah was a man of like passions as we (James 5:17), so even if we don’t admit it-to one degree or another, we all have our unique juniper trees. And where no two experiences are the same, something I continue to learn from my own junipers is that often we long for the mountains, yet we are better off in the valleys. For it is up on the mountain peaks that Satan comes to sift us, leaving us to weep bitterly. Oft when I am wandering my wilderness, begging for a changed circumstance, God kneels down beside me in tender touch, whispering that it’s not so much about the circumstance changing, as it is about Him using the circumstance to change me. Oh dear broken saint, you have an elder brother, who understands your every affliction intimately. He was gentle in the manger as He was gentle on the cross. He was gentle with children, as He was with disciples who denied Him. He was gentle with sinners and the grieving…He will be gentle with the wounds of your soul and the sins of your heart too. In perfect submission, and no despair for himself, He was forsaken and pegged to the wood beams of Calvary. He wore hell's covering so He could be there beside you, above you, beneath you, around you-enveloping you perfectly…as your gentle juniper tree. His breath blows gently, "Come unto me, all ye that labour and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you, and learn of me; for I am meek and lowly in heart: and ye shall find rest unto your souls." (Mark 11:28-29).
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