Anchors of Hope - Meeting God for a Snack

When I think about the anchors of hope in my life, I often return to St. Ignatius’ quiet prayer of imagination with scripture. One prayer that steadies me is from 1 Kings 19, when the prophet Elijah reaches the end of his strength. This passage has become more than just a story in the Bible; it has become a mirror for my own life, especially in the times when I pour myself out until I have nothing left. It is here that I discover, again and again, that God’s love is the steady ground beneath my feet.

Empty After Giving Everything Away

I know that I am the kind of person who gives almost too freely. Sometimes, I think my virtue of generosity is misbalanced by my lack of temperance. I like to give, but my understanding of when, how, and how much is often lacking. As a mother, teacher, and spiritual director, I pour myself out into the lives of others. I give my time, my energy, my heart. And while generosity is a gift, I sometimes cross into giving beyond what I have to offer. I end up feeling empty, drained, and even a little disappointed in myself—for not holding back, for not keeping something in reserve.

It’s in those moments that I find myself a little like Elijah under the broom tree in 1 Kings 19.

Elijah’s Weariness

Elijah, after the great triumph of facing the prophets of Baal on Mount Carmel, runs for his life into the wilderness. Queen Jezebel has threatened him, and though he has seen God’s power firsthand, he is terrified. He travels into the desert, collapses under a broom tree, and prays for death: “Enough, LORD! Take my life, for I am no better than my ancestors.”

That line always makes me pause. Here is a prophet of God—a man who has just experienced victory, and he is absolutely undone. He isn’t just tired—he’s done. The fight is gone.

And I get it. There are times when, after giving everything, I too feel like lying down under a broom tree and declaring, “Enough, Lord!”

God’s Response (and the Gift of a Snack)

But what happens next is remarkable—and ordinary. God does not scold Elijah for being weak. Instead, God sends an angel who touches him and says, “Get up and eat.” Elijah opens his eyes to find bread and water waiting for him. He eats, drinks, and falls asleep again. Wow—I know that feeling! Maybe it is a South Louisiana thing, but I don’t know how many times I have asked people I love who were under distress, “Want something to eat?”

Imagine how calming the food felt—filling his body and grounding him in real life and in the current moment.

A second time, the angel wakes him: “Get up and eat, or the journey will be too much for you.” It is such a loving act!

Sometimes I laugh when I read this, because isn’t this just so human? Elijah thinks he needs to die, but what he really needs is a snack and a nap. Hope sometimes looks like bread and water.

This detail anchors me. God meets Elijah not with lofty theology or divine lectures, but with simple, tangible care: bread, water, rest, enough to keep going.

When I come to God empty, after giving everything away, this story reminds me that God does not turn me away. Instead, God renews me, just as Elijah was renewed. God fills my cup. Even the part of me that overextends—that struggles with giving boundaries and saying “no”—is received and renewed in God.

The Gentle Whisper

After Elijah eats and rests, he journeys to Mount Horeb. There, he encounters God in a way that becomes a profound lesson for us all. He waits, and there comes a mighty wind, an earthquake, and a fire. But God is not in any of those. Finally, there is “a light silent sound”—a gentle whisper—and Elijah knows that he is in God’s presence.

This steadies me when I feel restless or overwhelmed. God does not always come in dramatic solutions or quick fixes. Most often, God meets me in the quiet. In silence. In the hidden ways that restore my soul.

Sometimes I want God to show up in an earthquake or a blazing fire—something obvious and undeniable. But more often than not, God shows up as with Elijah: in the whisper after the storm, in the small kindnesses of the day, in the strength to get up after I’ve rested, in snacks.

Hope in Renewal

The story of Elijah anchors me in hope because it shows that God’s love is not conditional on my strength. Even when I am emptied out, even when I feel disappointed in myself, God does not reject me. Instead, God meets me with compassion, provides what I need, and whispers gently to remind me that I am God’s.

When I picture Elijah under the broom tree, I see not only his despair but also God’s tender care. I imagine myself there too, lying in exhaustion, and I feel God’s hand on my shoulder. I hear God say, “Get up and eat. Rest. I will give you strength for the journey ahead.”

Consider praying this scripture—not just reading it, but putting yourself in the place where Elijah was—and allow God and the angels to care for you.

Going Deeper:

• You are invited to reflect on the Scripture passage, I Kings 19 using this guide for Ignatian Contemplation.

• Pause and ask yourself:

  • What anchors of hope do you hold onto?
  • Where have you experienced God’s gentle care when you felt worn out?
  • How does God whisper hope into your life, even in the silence?

• Be still and listen for the still small voice by praying with this song: Still Small Voice.

• And consider maybe—just maybe—what you need right now is exactly what Elijah needed: a little rest and something to eat. Hope sometimes begins with a nap and a snack.

Photo by Priscilla Du Preez 🇨🇦 on Unsplash

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Stephanie Clouatre Davis

Stephanie Clouatre Davis graduated from Loyola University New Orleans. Stephanie speaks to adults and teens around the nation at parishes, high schools, and dioceses in various venues including retreats and conferences. With humor, joy, and stories, Stephanie not only fully engages her audiences but also inspires them to challenge themselves and build a stronger relationship with God. She lives in Covington, Louisiana with her husband Michael and two girls Emma and Abby.