On a River Bank

He stood there alone - a desolate portrait of solitude and sorrow. The mocking wind smote his swarthy features with demonic vengeance. Doubts abetted by merciless sun rays probed and lacerated the core of his being like phantom lancets, while the grimy, black mud in his sandals punctuated the gloom and grief of his soul.

A speck of foam elegantly mounted upon the breast of the racing current testified to the vanity and brevity of life while becoming a sacrifice to an unyielding stone.

The combination of death's sullen separation, coupled with the sudden responsibility of the heavy load of leadership, was cause for the noticeable sagging shoulders. The giant of faith who could open and close the heavens - the warrior of Carmel who could call fire from above - was gone.

On a promontory some rods away grouped the skeptics, pessimists and crepe-hangers. "What shall we do now? The days of miracles, powerful praying and holy living are gone! And what great days they were!"

But they did not watch alone. Demons cringed while mighty angels posititioned themselves for immediate departure as the deathless Deity of the ages interestedly observed that lonely, tested soul.

Moving perceptively toward the waters, Elisha placed his right foot on the immovable bastion of God's eternal existence, and his left foot on the continual faithfulness of God, and smote Jordon's waters with His powerful promises. "Where is the God of Elijah?" he cried. The hiss and rip of parting waters answered, "Right here by your side."

Today as in Elisha's day, the mantles of mature and seasoned saints are falling all around us, and we, their successors, are tempted to wonder what will happen to God's work without them? What we have to remember is that it is not the person at all, but the faithfulness of the Lord. The same God of Elijah...and of Elisha...is your God and mine!