What Are You Doing Here?

“What are you doing here, Elijah?” (1 Kings 19:9, NKJV)

What are you doing here?

It is a simple question, but sometimes the simplest questions are the ones that reach the deepest places. God asked Elijah this question while he was hiding in a cave, however, I do not believe the question was because God did not know where Elijah was. God knew exactly where he was. He knew what had happened. He knew what Elijah had been through, what he was afraid of, what he was thinking, and what had driven him into that cave.

God knew.

But Elijah needed to know.

Just one chapter earlier, Elijah had stood on Mount Carmel before the prophets of Baal. He had watched God answer by fire. He had seen an impossible victory. The people had fallen on their faces declaring, “The LORD, He is God!” Then the rain came after years of drought. Elijah prayed, watched, waited, and finally saw the little cloud rising from the sea that became an abundance of rain.

It had been a remarkable demonstration of the power and faithfulness of God.

And then Jezebel threatened to kill him. Suddenly, the man who had stood before hundreds of false prophets was running for his life from one woman.

It is easy to read that story from the comfort of our own chair and wonder how Elijah could go from such tremendous faith to such tremendous fear. But perhaps we should be careful before we judge him. We have done it too.

We have watched God answer prayer and then panicked when the next problem arrived. We have testified that God provided for us and then worried about how He would provide the next time. We have stood firmly in faith one day and found ourselves trembling the next.

A mountaintop experience does not make us immune to weariness. Yesterday’s victory does not mean we will never become discouraged today. Elijah ran until he was exhausted. He sat beneath a broom tree and asked God to let him die. Yet notice what God did first. He did not rebuke him. He did not give him a sermon about faith. He did not demand that Elijah pull himself together.

God let him sleep.

Then an angel woke him and gave him food and water.

Elijah slept again.

The angel came back, fed him again, and told him that the journey was too great for him.

There is something beautifully tender about that. Before God addressed Elijah’s thinking, He cared for Elijah’s exhausted body. Sometimes we have made exhaustion into a spiritual failure when what we desperately need is rest. Sometimes everything feels hopeless because we have been carrying too much for too long. The problem may still be real, but exhaustion can make that problem fill our entire field of vision until we cannot see anything else.

God knew Elijah needed rest. But He also knew Elijah could not remain where fear had taken him.

Elijah eventually traveled to Horeb, the mountain of God, and entered a cave. That is where the word of the LORD came to him with that piercing question, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Elijah answered by telling God everything that had happened. He had been zealous for the LORD. Israel had forsaken the covenant, torn down the altars, and killed the prophets. Elijah believed he was the only one left, and now they wanted to kill him too.

His circumstances were real. His fear was real. His disappointment was real. But one part of his conclusion was not.

Elijah was not alone. Later, God told him that there were still seven thousand in Israel who had not bowed to Baal. Seven thousand. Elijah could not see them from inside the cave. And that is one of the dangers of caves. They narrow our vision.

When we retreat into fear, disappointment, hurt, exhaustion, or isolation, we begin to see the world through the opening of that cave. Everything outside becomes smaller while everything inside becomes larger. We rehearse what happened. We remember who hurt us. We count what we have lost. We think about what might happen next. Before long, our cave becomes our perspective.

“I am the only one.”

“No one understands.”

“Nothing is changing.”

“There is no point.”

“I cannot do this anymore.”

But what if what you can see from your cave is not the whole story?

God had seven thousand people Elijah did not know about. God had already prepared Elisha. God still had kings for Elijah to anoint. God still had instructions to give him. God still had work for him to do. Elijah had reached a place where he thought his story was nearly finished, while God was giving him his next assignment.

That is why the question matters.

What are you doing here?

Maybe your cave is fear. God called you to something, but somewhere along the way the opposition became louder than the calling, and you backed away. Maybe your cave is disappointment. You prayed. You believed. You expected something different, and when things did not happen the way you thought they would, you quietly withdrew.

Maybe your cave is exhaustion. You have been pouring into everyone else for so long that hiding feels safer than being needed one more time. Maybe your cave is hurt. Someone wounded you, perhaps even someone in the Church, and rather than risk being hurt again, you decided distance was easier.

Maybe your cave is comfort. You are not necessarily afraid or wounded. You have simply become comfortable where you are. Stepping back into what God has called you to do would require effort, change, courage, or sacrifice, and the cave has become familiar.

Whatever the cave looks like, eventually God asks the question. What are you doing here?? Not, “How did I find you here?” Not, “How could you possibly have ended up here?”

He knows exactly how you got there.

The question invites us to examine whether the place that protected us for a season has become the place where we are hiding from our next act of obedience.

There are seasons when God allows us to rest. Elijah’s story makes that beautifully clear. Rest is not rebellion. Stepping away long enough to recover is not failure. But rest and hiding are not the same thing. God fed Elijah for the journey. He did not feed him so he could permanently move into the cave. Then God told Elijah to go out and stand on the mountain.

A powerful wind tore through the mountains and broke rocks into pieces, but the LORD was not in the wind. Then came an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. Then came a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire.

After the fire came a still small voice, a gentle whisper.

When Elijah heard it, he wrapped his face in his mantle and stood at the entrance of the cave. And there God asked him again, “What are you doing here, Elijah?”

Twice.

God did not change the question because Elijah had not yet changed his answer. Sometimes we want God to give us a new word when we have not responded to the last thing He said.

We want another confirmation. Another sign. Another prophecy. Another open door.

And God may still be asking the same question.

What are you doing here?

There is something else I love about this passage. God did not merely call Elijah out of the cave and then leave him standing there wondering what to do. He gave him direction.

Go.

Anoint Hazael. Anoint Jehu. Anoint Elisha. In other words, there was still purpose beyond the cave. There was still ministry beyond the disappointment. There was still obedience beyond the fear. There were still people Elijah had not met and assignments Elijah had not completed.

The cave was a chapter. It was never supposed to become the whole book. Maybe that is what someone needs to hear today.

The place where you are right now may be understandable. There may be very good reasons why you withdrew. There may be wounds that still hurt. There may be questions you cannot answer. You may truly be tired. God is not intimidated by any of that.

But He loves us too much to allow the place where we recovered to become the place where we disappear.

The enemy would love to convince us that isolation is protection. That because something hurt before, obedience will always hurt. That because one person rejected us, everyone will. That because one attempt failed, the calling failed. That because we became weary, we are finished.

But God sees the seven thousand we cannot see. He sees the Elishas we have not met yet. He sees the assignments beyond this moment.  He sees beyond the mouth of the cave. Maybe you cannot see what comes next. Elijah could not either. But you do not have to see the entire road in order to step toward the entrance.

Sometimes faith is simply being willing to come out far enough to hear what God says next.

So perhaps today is not the day for another list of everything that went wrong. Perhaps it is not the day to rehearse again why you are tired, why you are afraid, or why your disappointment is justified.

God already knows.

Perhaps today is the day to sit quietly before Him and allow the question to reach the place you have been avoiding.

What are you doing here??

And then ask another one.

Lord, is this where You want me to remain?

If the answer is no, you do not have to run out of the cave pretending you were never afraid. Elijah did not suddenly become a different person. God simply met him there, corrected what he could not see, reminded him that he was not alone, and gave him the next thing to do.

God can do the same for us.

Come out of the cave. There is still a remnant. There is still purpose. There is still work to be done.

And the God who met you in the cave will be the same God who walks with you when you step outside.

Reflection

What has become your cave?

Is there an area of your life where fear, disappointment, exhaustion, hurt, or comfort has caused you to withdraw? Has something that began as necessary rest slowly become isolation? Are you judging what God is doing only by what you can currently see?

Sit with God’s question for a moment-

What are you doing here?

Then ask Him what your next act of obedience is. You may not receive the entire plan. Elijah did not. But God will give you enough light for the next step.

Let’s Pray:

Father, You know exactly where I am and how I got here. You know the things that have frightened me, disappointed me, exhausted me, and caused me to retreat. Thank You that You do not abandon me in those places. Thank You for caring for me when I am weary and for meeting me with patience and mercy.

But Lord, do not allow me to become comfortable hiding in a place You only intended for a season. Show me where fear or disappointment has narrowed my vision. Remind me that what I can see is not the whole story. Help me hear Your voice above every other voice competing for my attention.

If You are calling me out of the cave, give me the courage to step toward You. Show me the next thing You want me to do, and help me obey even when I cannot see what comes after it.

Thank You that my weariness does not cancel Your purpose, my fear does not surprise You, and my disappointment does not mean You are finished with me.

I trust You with what comes next.

In Jesus’ name, Amen.

Additional Scriptures: Proverbs 18:1, James 5:17, Psalm 139:7–10, Isaiah 40:29–31, Hebrews 10:24–25, and Galatians 6:9.

I love ya, and He does too!