She looked again just to make sure. It was the same as before. There was just enough, just enough for one
last small loaf of bread. The rainy
season was gone, and now there was nothing but hot sun, blistering winds stripped
the landscape and filtered into every crevice and corner of her humble
shack.
And the measure of oil – well, was meager. Maybe enough for one more loaf to go with her
flower. He son came in just then, and he
headed straight for the fireplace, hoping against hope that there might be
something to eat. Disappointed again.
The mother watched her son, sighed deeply
and finally gathered her small sack and headed out to the village.
As she walked along her eyes were on the
ground, for she was in search of a few sticks to use to make one last
fire. And after that, what? The end.
It would be over soon for her and her son.
They would starve.
As she walked along a strange man called
out to her. She did not recognize him,
and her nature was to be wary of strangers, yet somehow she felt no fear, only
intrigue. She moved closer and he
repeated his request.
“Would you please bring me a bit of water
in a jar, for I am parched?” She turned
to leave. Surely she could do this, for
he did indeed seem more desperate than she.
As she turned to go, he continued
speaking, “and could you bring me a piece of bread, please?”
She was astounded. How dare he ask for bread, today of all days? Didn't he know these were desperate
times? Didn't he know the crops were failing
with this drought? Didn't he know everybody
in town was scrounging for any scrape of food they could find? Why, the very nerve of him. Who did he think he was?
That is what she thought, but she
responded with, “Sir, I’m sorry. I’m
just now looking for a few sticks to make a fire. You see, I only have a handful of flour and
barely a thimbleful of oil. Just today I
am going home to make a loaf of bread for my son and me and then we shall die.”
He spoke again. “Please go home and make me one small portion
of bread, and then go and make one for you and your son.” He continued.
“Have no fear. The God whom I serve says this, ‘The jar of flour will
not be used up and the jug of oil will not go dry until the day the Lord sends
rain on the land.”
She was astonished. She wasn't sure she had heard correctly. But she obeyed.
She went home and made the loaf just as
this stranger had said. All the while
thinking to herself, “What are we gonna do?
What are we gonna do?”
The bread finished baking and she took it
to the strange man.
All the way back home the hunger pains
increased. The smell of that loaf was
driving her crazy with hunger. And now
she faced her son, no oil, no flour and no hope.
She started laughing. What was it he had said? “‘The jar of flour will not be used up and
the jug of oil will not go dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the land.”
“Oh, that’s a good one” she said out
loud. And continued chuckling to
herself.
She rounded the last bend in the road and
headed up hill to her home and her son.
As she entered, she swatted at a few
flies, and had to nudge a small lizard that had scampered in through the
window.
Just out of curiosity she removed the lid
from the oil jar. Just an hour ago she
had turned it up and poured every drop it held into the mixing bowl.
She could not believe her eyes. There in the bottom was what appeared to be
as much oil as she had before. But how?
She reached for the flour. It didn’t feel empty as it had before. It felt heavy. She looked inside. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. There was flour in the bottom. What is going on?
She again replayed that old man’s words
in the village.
‘The jar of flour will not be used up and
the jug of oil will not go dry until the day the Lord sends rain on the
land.”
And for as long as the drought continued,
every day she looked, there was oil in the jar and flour in the cupboards.
The faithfulness of God is again on
display.
The word is trust.
This story is based on a Biblical account
in
I Kings 17:8-16. It is a word of hope
and encouragement at God’s ability to meet our needs.
It is an anchor on which to place your
trust.
P Michael
Biggs
Offering
Hope
Encouragement
Inspiration
One Word
at a Time