A Dream Rebirthed
“The dreams of a mother are reflected in the eyes of her child; the beautiful eyes of her baby.”
The widow of Zarephath was watching her dream starve to death when the prophet of God walked into town.
Elijah said to her, “Get me a drink of water, and some bread, please.”
“Sir, I swear by the Lord that I have no bread. I have but a handful of flour and a few drops of oil. I’m going to make a small cake for my son and myself, and then we will sit and wait to die.”
The drought had swept through the land, sucking every drop of moisture from the crops, and leaving famine in its wake. The widow knew that it was just a matter of time before her dream perished completely.
“How can this man ask me to give him my son’s last bite of bread?” she wondered.
“Don’t be afraid, “ Elijah said.
“Bake me some bread first, and when you are finished, there will be enough for you and your son to eat as well. This is what the Lord says, “There will always be flour and oil enough for you. You will have food to last until the rain comes again.”
So the woman did as Elijah said, and she, her son, and the man of God ate from her flour and oil for many days! Her dream began to take shape once again, filling out with health and hope.
And then, one day, the widow’s son became ill. As the days passed, he grew worse and worse, his life slowly draining from him. Until at last, it left; leaving behind an empty shell and a broken mother. Finally her dream had departed from her. No hope left. Dead.
The widow lashed out at the man of God in her grief.
“Oh, what have you done to me? Did you come here to punish me for my sins by killing my only son?”
Elijah only looked at her tenderly, reached out his arms and said, “Give him to me.”
Elijah took the little boy in his arms and carried him upstairs to the room that the widow kept for him. He laid the small body on his bed, and then he began to cry out to the Lord.
“Oh, my God, why have You brought this tragedy upon this woman? She has fed me and opened her home to me, yet You have allowed her son to die!”
No answer came from the Lord, but Elijah would not give up. He stretched himself out over the boy and continued to send his cry up to the Lord.
“Lord God, please let this child’s life return unto him!”
The Lord heard the prayer of Elijah, and suddenly, the life returned to the child’s body. The still heart began to pump once again. Breath moved past the blue lips, and rosy health returned to the pale cheeks! Elijah picked up the boy and carried him downstairs to his mother.
“Look,” he said as he handed her the boy. “Your son lives!”
Then the widow told Elijah, “Now I am sure that you are a man of God, and that the Lord speaks through you!” And she held her newly revived dream close to her heart.
Sometimes the dreams that are held closest to us are tossed in the seas of life. Sometimes the cruel winds tear them from our clenched fists, and we watch as they are dashed to pieces against the sharp stones. Sometimes every hope appears to be false, and every dream-child dies in our arms.
“Where is God, “ I wonder. “Why won’t He answer me?”
I cry to Him until I am hoarse, and until there are no more tears to cry. Yet still, the dreams die before they are mature enough to survive. I struggle with the fact that my dream is dead, but something stirs in my heart still…
“Oh, God, let this child’s life return unto him!”
My heart cries out to God, one last time, and as it does, my dream, my hope, is rebirthed! The life, the breath, the promise, lives again. I stand in awe as I look upon one of the greatest miracles I’ve ever seen. A dead promise, revived and fulfilled. And I hold it close to my heart, and wait to see what God will do with it.
Written by Kendra Lynn
November 1, 2004