Elijah, as you can tell, finds himself in a world of trouble. Queen Jezebel has sent word to him that she’s about to lower the boom. As a matter of fact, Jezebel has taken a solemn oath to relieve both Elijah and the world of his meddling self.

Upon hearing this, Elijah goes on the lam, hoping against hope that he can outrun the troubles that pursue him. But his problems are as relentless as he is desperate. Finally, tired of the chase, he goes out into the wilderness and prays, “Lord, I’ve run as far as I can run; I’ve endured as much as I’m likely to endure; the race is finished. Please, if you have any mercy, bring me home. And if home is not a place I’m worthy of coming, at least get me out of here." Alone in the wasteland, Elijah prepares to die.

But to understand how Elijah finds himself under the broom tree, looking to check out his otherwise bleak existence, we need to take a moment to see how he’s gotten here.

Back at the end of chapter 16, we get a short synopsis of the way things are going for the Northern Kingdom of Israel. Ahab, son of Omri, has become king. He marries a gentile woman named Jezebel. Jezebel worships the fertility gods, Baal and Asherah—annoying, as one might imagine, the God of Israel.

Consequently, Elijah the Tishbite arrives on the scene with a word from the Lord about the ramifications of Ahab’s poor decision-making skills in opening Israel up to the worship of other gods: “As the LORD the God of Israel lives, before whom I stand, there shall be neither dew nor rain these years, except by my word” (1 Kings 17:1). God has shut up the heavens against Israel, and Elijah is the unfortunate bearer of bad tidings.

After three years of drought, God comes to Elijah and says, “Go, present yourself to Ahab; I will send rain upon the earth." Clearly, Elijah has not been the toast of the town. In fact, Ahab has been hunting him for three years.

So when Elijah finally shows up on Ahab’s doorstep, the first thing Ahab says is, “Aha! Is it you, you troubler of Israel?”

To which Elijah replies, “I have not troubled Israel; but you have, and your father’s house, because you have forsaken the commandments of the LORD and followed the Baals.”

After this little impertinence, Elijah takes center stage in the well-known Sunday School story about the contest to bring fire from heaven. Remember that one?

Elijah challenges 450 prophets of Baal to lay a bull on an altar on top of Mt. Carmel and to pray to their god, imploring their god to speak.

Narrator: He does not, in fact, speak.

Elijah mocks them, “Maybe he’s asleep. Maybe he’s gone for a walk. Call him again; maybe he hasn’t checked his voicemail." And on and on and on.

All this wailing goes on for most of the day until Elijah finally tells the people to lay a bull on the altar of the LORD, wet it down, and stand back. He prays, and fire comes from heaven, consuming the burnt offering, the wood, the stones, and the dust. This, apparently, being proof enough, Elijah has all the false prophets executed and tells Ahab that it’s about to rain.

The problem is that the prophets belong to Ahab’s wife, Jezebel, and she wasn’t in on the decision to have them all rubbed out. Accordingly, and suffice it to say, she is more than a little put out with Elijah. Elijah heads for the hills, and she sends a messenger to tell him that she’s going to make his life, as Thomas Hobbes said, “nasty, brutish, and short,” which is how Elijah comes to find himself under the broom tree, contemplating an early retirement.

Upon reading this story, one question that arises for me is the fairly obvious one, “How does a person get to the point where even being wiped from the face of the earth looks preferable to spending another day of pain in it?”

Ever get that far down? Ever just wander out into the wilderness, sit down under the broom tree, and wait to die?

The phone rings, and you get up from the floor where you’ve been playing Uno with your granddaughter. You don’t want to answer the phone, but you know you can’t take another night of not knowing. Your palms are slippery against the hard plastic as the voice on the other end of the line tells you, “We’ve gotten back the results of your biopsy.”

“And? What did they say?”

“I’d really rather talk to you about it in my office. Can you come in tomorrow?”

You call your son to pick up your granddaughter and sit in your living room beneath the broom tree.