Churchill's Black Dog and the Still Small Voice

In the summer of 1945, Winston Churchill — the man who had rallied Britain through its darkest hours, who had stared down Hitler when the world trembled — was voted out of office in a stunning electoral defeat. His wife Clementine suggested it might be "a blessing in disguise." Churchill replied, "At the moment it seems quite effectively disguised."

What followed was a plunge into what Churchill called his "black dog" — a depression so severe he could barely paint or write. The man who had saved Western civilization sat in his garden at Chartwell, hollow and purposeless. He told his doctor, Lord Moran, "I have no energy. I have nothing to look forward to."

Elijah knew that emptiness. Fresh from his triumph on Mount Carmel — fire from heaven, the prophets of Baal defeated — he received one threat from Jezebel and collapsed. He ran into the wilderness, sat under a broom tree, and begged the Almighty to take his life. The greatest spiritual victory of his career was followed by his deepest despair.

But God did not scold Elijah for his weakness. He sent bread and water. He let him sleep. And then, at Horeb, He spoke — not in the earthquake or the fire, but in a gentle whisper.

The God who meets us is not waiting at the mountaintop of our victories. He finds us under the broom tree, feeds us, and speaks quietly until we are ready to listen again.