Tag Archives: 1 Kings 18

المذبح والنار

اختيار العهد بدلًا من التهاون

رأيت مشهدًا مهيبًا يملأه الرهبة والمجد. السماء اهتزت، والأرض تشققت عطشى، تتوق إلى مطر البرّ. جموع قلقة ملأت السهل تحتي، وقلوبهم منقسمة بين لذات هذا العالم ونداء القدير.

وأنت، أيها القارئ، هل شعرت بالعطش في أعماق روحك؟ هل وقفت بين مذبح الذات ومذبح التسليم؟

في وسط هذا التوتر، ظهر إيليا، مرتديًا لباسًا من شعر خشن وممتلئًا بغيرة متقدة. صوته دوّى كصوت مياه كثيرة:

“إلى متى أنتم مترددون بين رأيين؟ إن كان الرب هو الله، فاتبعوه، وإن كان البعل، فاتبعوه.”

(1 ملوك 18:21، الترجمة الموسعة)

الكلمة العبرية “פָּסַח” (pasach) تخترق النفس. تعني أن تترنح، أن تقفز جيئة وذهابًا بدون التزام. إنها نفس الكلمة التي وردت في سفر الخروج عندما عبر الرب فوق البيوت الملطخة بالدم، فأنقذ شعب العهد. كان من المفترض أن ترقص إسرائيل فرحًا بالعهد، لكنها كانت تتعثر في ترددها وانقسامها. تحدي إيليا كشف ليس فقط أصنامهم، بل ترددهم الداخلي أيضًا.

بدأ أنبياء البعل أولًا. أربعمئة وخمسون رجلاً رقصوا حول مذبحهم وهم يصرخون: “يا بعل، أجبنا!” ولكن عبادتهم تحوّلت إلى هستيريا. جرحوا أجسادهم، واندفعت منهم الدماء، ولكن لم يكن هناك صوت، ولا من يجيب. البعل طلب ألمًا، لكنه لم يُرسل نارًا. السماء بقيت صامتة.

ثم اقترب إيليا وأصلح مذبح الرب المُهدم باستخدام اثني عشر حجرًا—حجرًا لكل سبط من أسباط إسرائيل المرتبطة بالعهد. بلّل الذبيحة والخشب والساحة المحيطة بالماء. ثم صلّى:

“أيها الرب، إله إبراهيم وإسحاق وإسرائيل، ليُعلَم اليوم أنك أنت الله في إسرائيل”

(1 ملوك 18:36، الترجمة الموسعة)

وسقطت النار من السماء.

التهمت الذبيحة.

والحجارة.

والتراب.

والماء.

وسقط الشعب على وجوههم وصرخوا:

“الرب هو الله! الرب هو الله!”

(الآية 39)

لقد شُفي التردد بالنار المقدسة. وعادت رقصة العهد إلى مكانها الصحيح.

نفس الخيار يواجهنا اليوم

مثل إسرائيل القديمة، يتردد جيلنا. نتلاعب مع أصنام العصر—الذات، القوة، اللذة، المال—بينما ندّعي أننا في عهد مع إل شداي. مذبح الإيمان القومي مكسور. والمطر انقطع. ومع ذلك، نتساءل لماذا لا تسقط النار بعد الآن.

إن الرب يسأل من جديد:

إلى متى ستتردد؟

إلى متى ستمسك يدك بالبعل وأخرى في السماء؟

إلى متى ستنتظر نارًا، بينما مذبحك ما زال مهدمًا؟

حقيقة الله ثابتة:

“اختاروا اليوم من تعبدون”

(يشوع 24:15، الترجمة الموسعة)

لا يوجد ملاذ في الحياد. رقصة الفصح تقدم حرية وحياة. أما تردد الأصنام، فيقود إلى عبودية وموت.

تمسك بالإيمان – وابنِ المذبح

كلمة pasach تعود لتواجهنا. هل سنبقى نترنح بين الولاءات؟ أم سندخل بالكامل في عهد الرب؟

إن الإله الذي يجيب بالنار لا يزال يجيب.

لكن فقط عندما يكون المذبح كاملاً.

فقط عندما تكون التقدمة مبللة بالتسليم.

فقط عندما يكون القلب مكشوفًا أمامه.

صلِّ مع داود:

“قلبًا نقيًا اخلق فيّ يا الله، وروحًا مستقيمًا جدد في داخلي.”

(مزمور 51:10، الترجمة الموسعة)

دع التوبة تزيل الأنقاض.

دع الطاعة تضع الحجارة من جديد.

دع الشفاعة تبلل الذبيحة.

وحينها ستسقط النار مرة أخرى.

صلاة من أجل التجديد

يا أبانا،

نعترف بقلوبنا المترددة.

لقد رقصنا مع الأصنام بينما دعوتنا للسير معك.

اغفر ترددنا.

طهر ميولنا.

رمم المذبح المحطم في داخلنا.

أسكب مطر البرّ على أرضنا العطشى.

دع نار روحك تحرق كل عبادة زائفة.

أحيينا في حقك.

واجعلنا، مثل إيليا، نعلن بثقة مقدسة:

الرب هو الله!

نصلي هذا باسم يشوعا، فصحنا المذبوح. آمين.

لا تنتظر النار لتسقط على مذبح غيرك.

ابنِ مذبحك.

اليوم.

في هذه اللحظة.

عد إلى الرقصة. ابنِ المذبح. ودع النار تسقط.

Appeal to Heaven

What Happens When the Anointed Cry Out

There is a cry that reaches beyond courts, armies, and kings. It is the cry of the righteous when all earthly help fails. It is called an Appeal to Heaven. Though it once flew on a flag in America’s fight for freedom, its origin is older—found in the Scriptures and written on the hearts of those who walk with God.

To appeal to Heaven is to say: “God, You alone are Judge. You alone are King. My cause is before You.” And when the anointed of God pray with clean hands and humble hearts, Heaven listens—and moves.

“In my distress I called upon the Lord, and cried to my God for help; He heard my voice from His temple, and my cry for help came before Him into His ears. Then the earth shook and quaked… He bent the heavens down and came down, with thick darkness under His feet.”
—Psalm 18:6–9 (NASB)

This is no mere metaphor. God literally bows the heavens when His people cry out. The firmament—the unseen layers between heaven and earth—shifts. The Lord arises. Justice rides on the wind. And He comes not as a whisper, but with fire and trembling.

You may contend with many in this life. But you do not want to contend with someone who walks with God and knows how to pray. Because when they make an appeal to Heaven, you are no longer up against them—you are up against the God who defends them. This is the true power of appealing to Heaven.

David understood this. Though Saul hunted him unjustly, David said, “I will not stretch out my hand against the Lord’s anointed” (1 Samuel 26:11, NASB). David feared God more than he hated injustice. He knew that it is God who lifts up and tears down. Touching God’s anointed without cause was not just unwise—it was dangerous.

Elijah knew this power. When he stood on Mount Carmel and prayed, fire fell from heaven and consumed the offering (1 Kings 18:36–38). God answered with fire because His prophet prayed. His appeal to Heaven was answered with divine intervention.

Hezekiah laid a letter from his enemies before the Lord, and cried out. And Scripture says: “Then Isaiah the son of Amoz sent word to Hezekiah, saying, ‘This is what the Lord, the God of Israel says: Because you have prayed to Me…’” (Isaiah 37:21, NASB). That same night, one angel struck down 185,000 Assyrian soldiers. Why? Because he prayed.

In the New Testament, Peter was in chains. Herod had already killed James and was planning to do the same. But it says, “So Peter was kept in the prison, but prayer for him was being made to God intensely by the church” (Acts 12:5, NASB). God sent an angel, the chains fell off, and Peter walked out of a locked prison under the guard of soldiers. That is the power of an appeal to Heaven.

Even the Lord Jesus Christ, before the cross, made His appeal in Gethsemane. He said, “Father, if You are willing, remove this cup from Me; yet not My will, but Yours be done” (Luke 22:42, NASB). And Heaven responded. Not with deliverance, but with strength. “Now an angel from heaven appeared to Him, strengthening Him.” (Luke 22:43, NASB)

Heaven always responds. Whether with fire, angels, deliverance, or strength, God answers the cries of His people. Their appeal to Heaven never goes unheard.

So if you are facing injustice, persecution, or trouble—don’t panic. Pray. If you walk in righteousness, your voice reaches the throne. As it is written:

“The eyes of the Lord are toward the righteous, and His ears are open to their cry. The face of the Lord is against evildoers, to eliminate the memory of them from the earth.”
—Psalm 34:15–16 (NASB)

God hears. God sees. God defends. When the anointed cry out—when they make an appeal to Heaven—the court of Heaven opens, and the Judge of all the earth rises.

Be encouraged: Heaven still bends low. And our God still answers with power.

https://www.133.church/wp-content/uploads/2025/05/When-the-Anointed-Cry-Out.mp3

🎵 “When the Anointed Cry Out” 🎵

(Verse 1)
When earthly strength has faded,
When hope seems all but gone,
We lift our cry to Heaven,
Before Your righteous throne.
You hear the anointed cry,
You bow the heavens down.

(Chorus)
When the anointed cry out,
You answer with power.
You shake the earth, You rend the skies,
You move in this hour.
Fire and angels, deliverance and might—
When the anointed cry out,
You arise in the night.

(Verse 2)
The world may come against us,
The proud may raise their hand,
But You defend the humble,
The righteous who still stand.
You hear the anointed cry,
You bow the heavens down.

(Chorus)
When the anointed cry out,
You answer with power.
You shake the earth, You rend the skies,
You move in this hour.
Fire and angels, deliverance and might—
When the anointed cry out,
You arise in the night.

(Bridge)
Strength for the weary, fire for the fight,
Chains are broken at Your command tonight.
Heaven bends low, the righteous rise,
When the anointed cry out,
Victory’s in Your eyes.

(Tag/Outro)
When the anointed cry out,
You bow the heavens down.

See Also

The Altar and the Fire

Choosing Covenant over Compromise

I beheld a scene of great dread and glory. The heavens quivered and the earth lay cracked and thirsty, yearning for the rain of righteousness. A restless multitude filled the plain below me, their hearts split between the pleasures of the world and the call of the Almighty.

And what of you, reader? Have you felt the drought within your own soul? Have you stood between two altars—one of self, the other of surrender?

Into this tension strode Elijah, clothed in rough hair and blazing with zeal. His voice rolled like many waters: “How long will you waver between two opinions? If the Lord is God, follow Him; but if Baal, follow him” (1 Kings 18:21, AMP).

The Hebrew word pasach pierces the soul. It means to limp, to hop back and forth without commitment. The same word appears in Exodus when Yahweh passed over blood-marked homes, sparing His covenant people. Israel was meant to dance in covenant joy, yet they staggered in double-mindedness. Elijah’s challenge exposed not only their idols—but their hesitation.

Baal’s prophets answered first. Four hundred fifty men leapt around their altar, crying, “O Baal, answer us!” But their worship spiraled into frenzy. They slashed their own flesh; blood gushed, yet no voice replied. Baal demanded pain but gave no fire. Heaven remained silent.

Then Elijah repaired the Lord’s ruined altar with twelve stones—one for every tribe bound to God’s covenant. He drenched the sacrifice, the wood, and the trench with water. Then he prayed, “O Lord, God of Abraham, Isaac, and Israel, let it be known today that You are God in Israel” (1 Kings 18:36, AMP).

Elijah on Mount Carmel: The fire of the Lord falls from heaven, consuming the sacrifice as the people of Israel witness the power of the one true God.

And fire fell from heaven.
It consumed the offering. The stones. The dust. The water.
The people collapsed to the ground and cried, “The Lord, He is God! The Lord, He is God!” (v. 39).

The limp of indecision was healed by holy flame. The dance of covenant was restored.

The Same Choice Confronts Us

Like ancient Israel, our generation hesitates. We flirt with modern idols—self, power, pleasure, money—while claiming covenant with El Shaddai. The altar of national faithfulness lies broken. The rain has ceased. Still we wonder why the fire no longer falls.

The Lord is asking again:

How long will you hesitate?
How long will you keep a hand on Baal and one on heaven?
How long will you wait for fire, when your altar lies in ruin?

His truth stands unshaken: “Choose this day whom you will serve” (Joshua 24:15, AMP). There is no refuge in neutrality. The dance of Passover offers freedom and life. The limp of idolatry leads only to bondage and death.

Rebuilding the altar of the Lord

Rebuild the Altar

Pasach confronts us again. Will we hop between allegiances, or will we step fully into covenant?

The God who answers by fire still answers.

But only when the altar is whole.

Only when the offering is soaked in surrender.

Only when the heart is laid bare before Him.

Pray with David: “Create in me a clean heart, O God, and renew a right spirit within me” (Psalm 51:10, AMP). Let repentance clear the rubble. Let obedience lay new stones. Let intercession drench the sacrifice. Then the fire will fall again.

A Prayer for Renewal

Father,
We confess our wavering hearts.
We have danced with idols when You called us to walk with You.
Forgive our hesitation. Cleanse our affections.
Restore the broken altar within us.
Pour the rain of righteousness on our parched land.
Let the fire of Your Spirit consume every false worship.
Revive us in Your truth.
May we, like Elijah, proclaim with bold conviction:
The Lord, He is God!

We pray this through Yeshua, our Passover Lamb. Amen.

Do not wait for the fire to fall on someone else’s altar.
Rebuild yours. Today. This moment.
Return to the dance. Rebuild the altar. Let the fire fall.

See Also