“And they cried aloud and cut themselves after their custom with swords and lances, until the blood gushed out upon them. And as midday passed, they raved on… but there was no voice. No one answered; no one paid attention.”  1 Kings 18:28-29

It’s an obscure but familiar childhood story to me – the prophets of Baal, and the prophet of the Most High God, contending for an answer from the One True God. The prophets of Baal, calling unto Baal. Elijah calling on the name of the LORD. All present in agreement that the God who answered by fire would be revered as the true God (18:24).

And then the scene that swirled in my imagination as a child. The prophets of Baal were so convinced of the power of Baal, they begin to mutilate their bodies to gain a reply. It seemed so barbaric and foolish to me that they would literally harm themselves to gain the answer of a silent, powerless idol.

Until today. As I re-read this passage with eyes of humility, I realized that in moments of sin I find myself doing the same thing.  

• On days I bow to the idol of control, I walk with an upset stomach, headache, and lash out at those around me in the most hurtful of ways, wrestling with the unbelief that my wisdom and knowledge qualifies me to control it all rather than the Sovereign One who governs all for his glory and the good of those who love him.
• On days I bow to the idol of productivity, I wear myself thin by skipping the proper nutrition and sleep my body needs, finding myself unable to serve those who need me the most, wrestling with the unbelief that my worth is defined by my checklist rather than the Creator who made me in his image.
• On days I bow to the idol of people’s opinions, I exhaust my mind defending my honor to a silent accuser who shows up only in my mind, wrestling the unbelief that my identity is bound up by the most critical words spoken over me rather than the Savior who has redeemed me.
• On days I bow to the idol of perfect health, I bind myself in knots searching all the conflicting health opinions on the internet until I am paralyzed by the unbelief that the length of my life (or those of my children) depends on my organic lunch or my laundry detergent fragrance rather than the Ancient of Days who numbers my days. 

The list could go on. I’ve personally wrestled all these false idols, and more. Perhaps you can relate?

Notice how this verse ends. Emphatically, the text repeats not two but three times that Baal failed to answer. I can say the same in my own life. Every idol I’ve ever run to has failed me utterly, leaving me weak and fragile from the running.

The story in 1 Kings ends with the slaughter of the false prophets. Their idol worship ended in ultimate judgement until the whole of their blood was spilled. Mine should be too, for the same idolatrous blood flows in my veins.

But, dear one, the narrative of Scripture continues. In the most magnificently merciful twist in the story, there was another whose blood gushed out unto death, though not for himself. On the cross, Jesus’s blood was shed not to gain the deliverance of a false idol but to be the propitiation for all the times I’ve tried to do so.

Because of the blood of Christ shed for me, I can be mercifully pardoned for all the times I’ve driven myself mad, calling and clamoring after false idols. My blood will not be shed. Hallelujah what a Savior.

And because of his resurrection, and by the power of the Holy Spirit, I can grow to daily dismiss these false idols in my mind and surrender in worship to the One True God, my beautiful Lord and Savior Jesus Christ. I can walk in freedom. Amen and amen.

May it be so, Lord Jesus.