It had been a long day. From early in the morning the people had congregated to watch the most epic knock out match ever. It was quite literally a duel of the gods. Everyone was there: all the religious and scientific community, all the political V.I.Ps, all the servants and slaves. The only one missing was her. Why she did not come was the matter of speculation. It was rumored that since she knew who the best god was she did not need to come and see for herself, but many felt this was a cop out. She had been one of the champions for the worship of the great local god that people knew as Baal, the god of Thunder. She herself participated and taught the rituals necessary to worship him and the other deities in his pantheon. She was pretty good at seducing anyone to partake of all the immoral acts that were representative of Baal and company. And she was ambitious enough to even seduce the king of Israel. After that, who could withstand her magical spells and power? She knew how to exploit her culture and get power from it. But that day she wasn’t there. And it was probably better for her reputation not to have been there, since all the mighty and most skilled of her own priests could not, even by lashing themselves, fire up the altar they had prepared for their god. Now, after a whole long day of trying, they were silent. The sun, strong as it had been each day during the three-year drought, had not let up throughout the whole ordeal, its cosmic rays delivering an ever potent dose of radiation each second while the god of thunder could not produce a mere spark. Now slowly approaching was that time of the day when the sun kisses the horizon goodnight and moves on to far away lands.
So all the attention had shifted to him, who now was kneeling by the 12-stone altar that was dripping wet because he had requested that water be poured unto it, three times, one for each year of the drought. That’s why water was still dripping from the right back leg of the animal and from a few of the pieces of wood that were laid with it. They had drenched the altar with salt water, so much that even the trench that had been dug around it was overflowing in the corner that was nearest the ocean. This overflow water had made a small stream that was moving slowly towards the West, soaking the parched ground as it went past the people standing nearby.
There was a small late afternoon breeze, but none knew of its divine origin except him. Him, the only one kneeling down while everyone else stood by, in silence. The salt-and-water-packed wind played with his long hair that had never tasted the sharpness of a razor. All was still. He seemed to be suspended in time and space like a planet in the cosmos.
After closing his eyes for some time, he opened them up and with them he also opened his mouth, framed by his chapped lips. He prayed, audibly enough for people to hear; not forcefully, but simply and confidently. “Father,” he said, his voice echoing down the hill of the mighty Carmel, “you are the God of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob. You called Yourself the Great I Am because you are the only One that exists from all eternity. You are Lord of the Universe and King of all. Oh, Greatest God,” he continued, by this time unbeknown to him there were some who were sensing the greatness of the moment and wanted to show some kind of reverence. Some closed their eyes, others looked intently at him, others were starting to cry… “let it be known today,” the old prophet said, “before the sun sets and the day is over, that You, Oh Lord, the Great I Am, are the God of Israel, the nation of the people that you called out. Let them know that I am only serving You, and that is why I do what I do and I say what I say.” His prayer was louder now as he also raised his dry hands upwards. “Great I Am, answer the prayer of your servant. Today let all the people, your people, see that You alone are God, that you alone are worthy to be praised, that to you alone should our worship be offered, that judgment and power belong only to you.” After a pause, once all the echoes from his loudest statement had vanished, he continued. But now his tone became more romantic and softer, more private and satisfied. Also, his arms were now more an expression of his words than gestures of praise. “Lord God, let your people know that you have not given up on them, and that today you are bringing their hearts back to You.” As he said the word you, his eyes had that far away look of a person imagining something, like a prophet in vision. Those who were closest to him saw a faint smile as he closed his prayer and closed his eyes again, bowing down to the ground as if before the presence of an emperor. Nothing happened. The only sound was made by the humid wind that now was stronger than before. For a few moments, even time seemed to stand still.
And then, as the people stood there, some watching him, some watching the sky, some watching the altar, some crying, others starting to laugh because they thought that nothing was going to happen, as the prophets of Baal foolishly bled away looking with amazement at the simplicity and heartfeltness of Elijah’s worship of his God, as King Ahab watched from his golden chariot… a blast of lighting, a flash of fire, out of nowhere yet felt everywhere, coming down from somewhere, connecting Heaven and Earth, like a gate to the land of the gods, like a singularity out of space, the Great I am showed up, and, consuming the sacrifice before Him, He showed not only that He alone is the true God, but that the sacrifice before Him was a symbol of Himself and of what He would have to endure to save those very people who were standing there in awe at what was happening: a testament to the extremes He would have to go to in order to preserve freedom of choice for the human race, to give the chance to choose for themselves to all who are born among mortals, including those prophets that now understood that they and their demon-made gods had been utterly defeated.No one knows for sure how long it lasted. Some say it was shining for sometime, while others saw an instant flash. Some claim they saw the shape of God, while others say it was like a ghost lightning. Some remember the brightness shining off of the prophet’s hair, while others still don’t have words to explain any of it. But all agree that when it was over, there was nothing left of the 12-stone altar or its sacrifice. Not even the water that had filled the ditch around it was there. Only a few smoky pebbles remained and a confident cry from the lips of God’s people, ringing all around through the mountain, “The Great I Am is God! The Great I Am alone is God!”