Elijah the prophet had just finished carrying that message to Ahab, king of Israel, who was one of the worst kings, married to the worst queen.

“If you keep running, you’ll find yourself wrecked.”

And many priests of baal had lost their lives.

But carrying God’s words can leave a prophet exhausted. And Elijah was running for his life, running from Jezabel. And he was wrecked.

He went alone into the desert, deeply desiring to die.

We know that because he said it: “God, please let me die.” After all the work he’d seen God do, an amazing display of divine power, Elijah knew that this was one prayer that God had the power to answer, to take his life.

“Now I lay me down to sleep,” he said in the desert under a tree, “I pray the Lord my soul to take.”

Some of you know that feeling right now, I think. You’ve tried to do what God told you to do. You’ve tried to live the way God wanted you to live. And you are not sure at all that he remembers you. You want God to let you go.

Suddenly, Elijah feels someone shaking his shoulder. “Wake up.”

It was an angel, with a message from God, an answer to Elijah’s prayer.

And the answer to his prayer to die was…..no.

More accurately, the answer was breakfast.

No argument. No lecture. No reminders of God’s power or judgment. There was fresh flatbread baking on coals. There was a jar of water. And the command was “get up and eat.”

Elijah ate.

And he laid down and went back to sleep.

We have no idea how long the first nap was, no idea how long the second nap was.

But The angel of the Lord woke him up again.

“Get up and eat. For the journey is too much for you.”

Elijah ate. And then he traveled forty days to Horeb, to Sinai, to the mountain where Moses met God.

Elijah was emotionally exhausted. He said extreme things. God gave him food and rest. Because that’s exactly what he needed.

And that’s why I tell people to eat. Because sometimes, the thing that we need most isn’t the thing we ask for most. It’s rest and food.

And the presence of God, standing guard, fixing breakfast, speaking to the burden of our journey.