— by Michael A. Graham
When the Word Comes and Speaks: Elijah’s Cave and the Voice of the Living God
I. Elijah — From Fire to Whisper
This reflection began in my own Bible reading of this passage, when I paused over the phrase recorded in 1 Kings 19:9 (ESV):
“And behold, the word of the LORD came to him, and He said to him, ‘What are you doing here, Elijah?’”
That simple clause stirred my curiosity—what does it mean for the Word to both come and speak?
I asked that question first for myself, out of habit as a pastor and researcher who reads and wants to know God and understand what He is doing and saying in His Word.
That curiosity led me into the conversation about the Memra—the “Word of the LORD” in the Targums—and how God’s Word has always been both near and active.
What began as a moment of study became this essay
Jack Miller once laughed that Elijah is the prophet who can make us both smile and tremble. He said,
“If Elijah was my neighbor, I would mow his lawn. I’d want his prayers on my side.” (“Christ: A Greater Prophet than Elijah”)
That mixture of humor and awe fits Elijah’s story: one day he calls down fire from heaven; the next he runs for his life into the wilderness, certain he is alone.
Jack saw himself—and all of us—in that Elijah irony. The same man who courageously faces down hundreds of prophets on Mount Carmel collapses in fear before a single threat from Jezebel.
Elijah’s larger story causes us to stand in awe and the Mighty God and then makes us laugh and weep at the same time in self-recognition and humility.
Elijah is no marble figure. He is every pastor, every believer, who has felt bold in public and small in private. He is the servant who stands for God one day and hides from Him the next. His life exposes the frailty inside even the most faithful hearts.
As Jack often reminded his listeners,
“To draw near to God and to have God near to us is the whole purpose of human life.”
That nearness—first fiery, then gentle—defines Elijah’s journey.
In the cave at Horeb we hear again the sentence that carries both mystery and comfort: “And behold, the word of the LORD came to him, and He said to him …” (1 Kings 19:9)
The personified “Word of the Lord” both comes and speaks. If the fire at Carmel displayed God’s power; the voice in the cave reveals God’s heart.
Elijah’s weariness becomes the setting where the living Word meets him again, to restore rather than to shame.
This essay follows that Word through Scripture and history—from the grammar of the Hebrew text to the witness of the early church and the Reformers—so that we can hear the same Word speaking in our own weakness today.
The story that begins with a prophet hiding in a cave ends with the gospel’s promise that God still comes near and still speaks.
II. Hearing the Hebrew Text
The verse in Hebrew reads:
וְהִנֵּה דְבַר־יְהוָה אֵלָיו וַיֹּאמֶר לוֹ
“Behold, the Word of the LORD came to him, and He said to him.”
Every part matters.
- “Behold” signals a new act of revelation; something unseen now enters Elijah’s world.
- “The Word of the LORD came” describes approach and presence. The Word moves toward the prophet as a visitor.
- “And He said” gives the Word a personal voice. The subject of He said is the Word of the LORD itself. The Word is more than sound; it is the living presence of God who speaks.
The Greek Septuagint mirrors this precision:
καὶ ἰδοὺ ῥῆμα Κυρίου πρὸς αὐτόν· καὶ εἶπεν αὐτῷ — “Behold, a word of the Lord was to him, and He said to him.”
Both languages personify the Word. The prophets do not simply hear God from a distance; they encounter His speech as a personal presence that both arrives and addresses.
Aramaic (Targum Jonathan):
מֵימְרָא דַי־יָי אָמַר לֵהּ — “The Memra of the LORD said to him.”
The ancient Aramaic translation of this verse preserves the same movement found in the Hebrew and Greek but makes it even more personal.
Where the Hebrew speaks of “the Word of the LORD” and the Greek renders it as ῥῆμα Κυρίου, the Targum says “the Memra of the LORD.”
The translators wanted synagogue hearers to sense that the transcendent God Himself was addressing Elijah through His living Word.
In all three languages—Hebrew, Greek, and Aramaic—the same truth stands: the Word both comes and speaks; God draws near and communicates Himself.
At this point a question naturally arises: Why does the Aramaic translation use Memra, and what did that mean for ancient readers?
The answer opens a door into Israel’s wider story. The Targums were part of a long tradition of hearing God’s Word as His active, personal presence—a conviction that runs like a thread from Genesis to the Prophets. The next section follows that thread.
Jack Miller once spoke of the way God restores weary servants through that same coming and speaking. He said,
“I find that I am a very weak person in many ways, but if I will pray with other believers even one hour, I am always changed into a stronger person.” (“Christ: A Greater Prophet than Elijah”)
That simple confession explains the cave as well as any commentary. God meets Elijah not with rebuke but with renewal.
The Word that comes is the God who draws near; the Word that speaks is the God who strengthens.
Elijah’s fear becomes the doorway for divine friendship. What begins as grammar ends as grace: the living Word enters human weakness and gives it voice again.
III. The Word in Israel’s Story
Having seen the Word’s movement across languages, we can now follow that same movement through Israel’s story itself—where hearing and speaking shape the prophet’s vocation.
When Scripture says, “The word of the LORD came,” it speaks of more than information. Across Israel’s story, the Word arrives as presence and power. From the first pages of Genesis, the Word creates: “And God said, ‘Let there be light.’”
The same speaking continues through every covenant. To Abraham, the Word brings promise; to Moses, command; to the prophets, revelation. The Word is how God steps into history.
The prophets often describe the Word as coming to them —as if it travels with intention and personality. To Samuel, it “was rare in those days”; then it appeared again when the boy heard his name called in the night. To Jeremiah, the Word touched his mouth. To Ezekiel, it entered him and set him on his feet. Each scene gives the sense of encounter, not simply dictation.
This personal dimension means that every prophetic voice begins with reception before speech. The prophet’s first act is listening; proclamation flows from hearing. Elijah’s cave repeats that rhythm. He listens, then he speaks. Jack Miller used to remind pastors that ministry always begins this way: we receive before we give, and when we stop listening, our words lose weight
Through these centuries God’s Word carries creation, covenant, correction, and comfort. By the time we reach Elijah, Israel already knows that when the Word comes and speaks, the living God is near. The story now prepares for something greater—the moment when the Word will come, not only to speak through prophets, but to dwell among His people.
This background explains why the later Aramaic translators could speak so freely of the Memra of the LORD. The Memra of the LORD comes from the Aramaic Targums—especially Targum Onkelos (on the Pentateuch) and Targum Jonathan (on the Prophets). These were Aramaic translations or paraphrases of the Hebrew Bible read aloud in synagogues after the exile, beginning as early as the 2nd–1st centuries BC. They gave ordinary worshippers access to God’s Word in their spoken language and, at the same time, safeguarded His transcendence.
In the Targums, Memra (מֵימְרָא) regularly appears in place of direct references to YHWH when the text depicts God acting, speaking, or appearing. For example:
- Genesis 3:8 (Targum Onkelos): Hebrew – “They heard the voice of the LORD God walking in the garden.” Aramaic – “They heard the voice of the Memra of the LORD God walking in the garden.” → The Memra acts as the divine presence moving toward humanity.
- Genesis 15:6 (Targum Neofiti): “Abram believed in the Memra of the LORD, and He reckoned it to him for righteousness.” → The Memra becomes the object of Abram’s faith.
- Exodus 19:17 (Targum Onkelos): “Moses brought the people out of the camp to meet the Memra of the LORD.” → The Memra mediates the encounter at Sinai.
So when the LXX renders dᵉḇar YHWH as ῥῆμα Κυρίου (“Word of the LORD”), and the Targums render similar phrases as Memra of the LORD, both traditions express the same theological reality in different languages: God’s Word is His personal, active self-expression—the way the transcendent God draws near and acts within creation.
Aramaic Witness: The Memra of the LORD
The ancient Aramaic translations of Scripture, known as the Targums, echo this same truth in another language. Where the Hebrew text says “the LORD” and the Greek speaks of ῥῆμα Κυρίου, the Aramaic translators often wrote מֵימְרָא דַי־יָי — “the Memra of the LORD.” They used this expression to preserve God’s holiness while affirming His personal presence and activity.
The Memra appears walking in the garden (Gen 3:8), receiving Abraham’s faith (Gen 15:6), and meeting Israel at Sinai (Exod 19:17).
In every case, it is the living Word through whom the invisible God draws near and speaks.
To remain faithful to Reformed theology, we remember that these appearances of God’s Word are real revelations of the one Lord. They anticipate, but do not yet equal, the incarnation of the Son. Revelation unfolds progressively, leading to Christ without confusing earlier theophanies with the fullness of His incarnation.
IV. The Memra in the Targums
When Israel’s language changed from Hebrew to Aramaic during the exile, God’s people still needed to hear Scripture in worship. Translators rendered the Hebrew Bible into Aramaic paraphrases known as Targums. These were not commentaries but living translations read aloud in the synagogue. Their task was both linguistic and theological: to help everyday worshippers hear the holiness of God in words they understood.
The translators faced a challenge. The Hebrew Scriptures often speak of God in human ways—He walks, descends, appears, and speaks face to face.
In the ancient world, where idolatry filled every culture, the translators wanted to guard the mystery of the one invisible God while still confessing His real action in the world.
Their solution was to introduce the expression the Memra of the LORD—the “Word” or “Utterance” of God.
In the Targums, the Memra becomes the reverent way of describing God’s personal involvement without reducing Him to human form.
Genesis 3:8, for example, says in Hebrew that Adam and Eve heard “the voice of the LORD God walking in the garden.”
Targum Onkelos renders it: “They heard the voice of the Memra of the LORD God walking.”
God Himself remains transcendent, but His Memra—His living Word—moves within creation.
The same pattern appears elsewhere. In Genesis 15:6, Abraham “believes in the Memra of the LORD.”
At Sinai, Moses brings the people “to meet the Memra of the LORD.”
The translators are not inventing a new being; they are describing God’s self-expression—His presence in speech, command, and promise.
The Word acts as the bridge between the high holiness of heaven and the lived experience of earth.
For the worshipper in the synagogue, this language meant comfort. God was not distant. His Memra still spoke, blessed, and guided His people.
What Israel’s translators expressed linguistically, the prophets had experienced spiritually—the Word that comes and speaks.
These sources are not Scripture but historical witnesses showing how Jewish teachers tried to express truths already found in the Hebrew Bible.
Their work prepared the theological soil for the fuller revelation of God’s Word in Christ.
V. The Greek Vocabulary: ῥῆμα and λόγος
When the Hebrew Scriptures were translated into Greek during the third and second centuries BC, the translators had to decide how to render dābār YHWH — “the word of the LORD.”
They chose two terms that shaped the vocabulary of revelation for centuries: ῥῆμα (rhēma) and λόγος (logos).
1. ῥῆμα – the spoken word
The noun ῥῆμα comes from ἐρῶ (“to speak”) and means “that which is said,” a specific utterance.
In the Septuagint, ῥῆμα Κυρίου translates dābār YHWH in passages where God’s speech breaks into history: “The ῥῆμα of the Lord came to Jeremiah” (Jer 1:2 LXX).
The term emphasizes speech that acts—a message that arrives with purpose and power.
Luke uses the same word when the angel tells Mary, “Nothing will be impossible with God” (οὐκ ἀδυνατήσει παρὰ τῷ θεῷ πᾶν ῥῆμα, Lk 1:37).
Every rhēma from God carries its own effectiveness.
In 1 Kings 19:9 (LXX 3 Kingdoms 19:9), the phrase καὶ ἰδοὺ ῥῆμα Κυρίου πρὸς αὐτόν shows that what Elijah receives is an event of speech.
The Word arrives as a messenger. The emphasis is movement—the Word comes—and address—the Word speaks.
2. λόγος – the revealing word
While ῥῆμα highlights the moment of utterance, λόγος carries a broader meaning: “word,” “reason,” “account,” “ordering principle.”
In classical Greek it could mean the rational pattern that holds the cosmos together. When Greek-speaking Jews adopted it, they used λόγος to describe the wisdom and purpose of God active in creation and revelation.
3. Jewish Wisdom and Targum traditions
Long before Hellenistic writers, Israel’s own literature had prepared this way of speaking.
In Wisdom of Solomon 9:1–2, creation is said to come through God’s Word, and the Aramaic Targums regularly spoke of the Memra of the LORD acting within history.
These texts show that the people of God already understood His Word as personal and active.
By the time Greek had become the language of many Jews, the idea of a living, working Word was deeply rooted in Scripture and synagogue life.
4. Philo of Alexandria – a Hellenistic Jewish voice
Philo of Alexandria (c. 20 BC – AD 50) later expressed similar ideas within Hellenistic Judaism. He described the Logos as “the first-born of God” and “the image of God” (On the Confusion of Tongues 146–147).
Philo was not a Christian teacher but a Jewish philosopher trying to translate biblical faith into the language of Greek thought. He was no Gnostic; his goal was to express the transcendent and holy God of Israel in categories his culture could grasp. His writing shows how the Jewish conviction that God reveals Himself through His Word could be heard in the wider intellectual world of his day.
John’s Gospel transforms that vocabulary by identifying the eternal Logos with the living person of Jesus Christ.
5. Bringing the two together
By the time of the New Testament, both ῥῆμα and λόγος belonged to the language of faith.
The ῥῆμα was the living voice of God’s command; the λόγος was the eternal meaning and reason behind that voice.
The Gospel writers use both: Jesus says that we live “by every ῥῆμα that comes from the mouth of God” (Mt 4:4), and John opens with “In the beginning was the Logos, and the Logos was with God, and the Logos was God.”
Together they tell one story—the Word who speaks in time is the same Word who orders eternity.
For Elijah, the ῥῆμα Κυρίου was the presence that entered his cave and restored his courage.
For the church, that same Word has now taken on flesh and spoken in the voice of Jesus. In Him the uttered ῥῆμα and the eternal Logos stand together: the divine speech that creates, confronts, and comforts has become a person who still comes and speaks.
VI. From Prophecy to Incarnation
All the earlier voices—the Hebrew dābār, the Aramaic Memra, the Greek ῥῆμα and λόγος—move in one continuous line of revelation.
The Word that came and spoke to prophets now comes and speaks in human flesh.
What Elijah heard in the cave becomes visible and audible in Jesus of Nazareth.
John’s Gospel gathers every strand into one radiant confession:
“In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God. … And the Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” (John 1:1, 14)
John describes the same divine voice that called Abraham, touched Jeremiah’s lips, and addressed Elijah in the stillness.
The Logos is the living God entering history in personal, saving presence.
The One who once said, “Let there be light,” now declares, “I am the light of the world.”
Early Christians recognized that the Word who spoke through prophets is the eternal Son.
Athanasius wrote in On the Incarnation (§ 16):
“The Word of God came in His own person, that as He is the image of the Father, He might renew man made after the image.”
The Word who revealed the Father through servants now reveals Him as Servant, sharing the nature He created.
Reformed teachers carried this same conviction.
Calvin, commenting on John 1, said the Son “was always the living Word of God, the fountain of all revelation.”
John Owen called Christ “the immediate author of all divine revelations from the beginning of the world” (Christologia, II.3).
For them, the line from Elijah’s hearing to the disciples’ seeing displayed the constancy of God: the same Lord who met the prophet in the whisper now meets sinners in the flesh.
The incarnation brings the story of revelation to its fullness.
When Jesus reads Isaiah in the synagogue and declares, “Today this Scripture has been fulfilled in your hearing,” He places Himself inside the prophetic formula.
The Word that came and spoke is present in the speaker. Revelation now bears a face, a tone of voice, and human tears.
Jack Miller liked to remind believers that grace has a human voice. The cave at Horeb appeared empty, yet the Word filled it; the world appeared hopeless, and the Word filled it too.
In Christ, divine speech gathers all its expressions—fire, thunder, whisper, and mercy—into one living Person.
The fire that consumed the altar on Carmel now burns as the warmth of redeeming love.
The voice that stirred Elijah’s heart now invites every weary soul: “Come to Me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.”
The Lord who spoke through storm and silence is also the Lord who sleeps in the boat, for the One who can say “Peace, be still” to the waves is the same One who governs the storm to begin with.
The Creator who commands the elements rests among them, revealing the majesty of divine power joined to the tenderness of divine compassion.
The story of the Word moves from the prophet’s ear to the believer’s heart. In Jesus, God’s communication that once arrived as command and promise arrives as grace and truth.
The Lord who speaks in every age—through storm, through silence, through Scripture—walks beside His servants still, ever coming, ever speaking, ever giving life.
VII. The Coming and the Speaking — The Cave as Gospel
Elijah’s cave shows how the living God restores His servant through presence and speech. The prophet expects God in force; instead, he meets Him in gentleness. The narrative slows so we can feel the difference between display and disclosure.
“And behold, the LORD passed by, and a great and strong wind tore the mountains and broke in pieces the rocks before the LORD, but the LORD was not in the wind. And after the wind an earthquake, but the LORD was not in the earthquake. And after the earthquake a fire, but the LORD was not in the fire. And after the fire the sound of a low whisper.”
(1 Kings 19:11–12)
Each natural wonder announces divine power; each pause reveals that the power itself is not the message.
The “low whisper” (literally “a thin sound of silence”) marks a different kind of nearness.
The God who sends wind, quake, and flame chooses to speak in a voice so slight that it reaches Elijah’s heart before his ears.
Jack Miller described this scene in relation to the cross:
“Elijah really deserved the fire to fall on him because he too was a sinner. … But when Jesus went to the cross, the fire came on the Greater Prophet.” (“Christ: A Greater Prophet than Elijah”)
The irony turns into gospel. The fire that once proved God’s supremacy at Carmel now falls on Christ at Calvary.
In that exchange the whisper finds its truest meaning: mercy speaking where judgment once thundered. The same Word who conquered idols now consoles His people.
This pattern shapes the gospel itself.
In Jesus, the Word comes again—still mighty, still holy, yet clothed in humility. The incarnation repeats Horeb’s rhythm: power hidden in mercy, glory wrapped in gentleness.
The Son of God walks into human sorrow and speaks peace. The mountain-shaking voice that once said, “Let there be light” now says “Your sins are forgiven.”
For those in ministry, Elijah’s cave offers a pattern of renewal.
The Lord restores His servants by coming near, not by scolding from afar. He sends His Word as truth that heals.
When the Word comes and speaks again—through Scripture read, prayer offered, or gospel preached—it carries the same tenderness that filled that quiet space at Horeb.
VIII. The Angel, the Word, and the Lord
Across Scripture God’s presence appears in two recurring ways: sometimes as the Angel of the LORD, sometimes as the Word of the LORD. Both carry divine authority; both speak in the first person as God; both reveal the same personal reality of the one Lord.
1. The Angel of the LORD
From Genesis onward this figure speaks and acts as the covenant Lord Himself.
- In Genesis 16, the Angel finds Hagar, promises her a future, and she names Him “the God who sees me.”
- In Exodus 3, the Angel appears in the burning bush, yet the text says, “God called to him out of the bush.”
- In Judges 6, Gideon meets the Angel, brings an offering, and the narrator concludes, “the LORD turned to him.”
The Angel is no mere messenger. He bears the divine name, receives worship, and forgives sin—actions belonging only to God.
The early fathers saw in this the Son of God appearing before His incarnation.
Justin Martyr, writing in the second century (Dialogue with Trypho, 56), identified the Angel as “the very same who appeared to Moses and who is called God and Lord.”
Irenaeus called Him “the Word of the Father, always present with the human race.”
2. The Word of the LORD
When prophets describe “the Word of the LORD coming to them,” they use language that overlaps with these visible appearances. The Word arrives, stands, touches, or speaks directly.
To Samuel the Word “revealed Himself;” to Jeremiah the Word “touched my mouth.”
These actions belong to a personal agent, not to abstract speech. In the cave at Horeb, Elijah experiences that same nearness in voice rather than sight: the unseen Word speaks into silence.
3. Unity of Angel and Word
The fathers and Reformers recognized that Scripture’s various forms of divine manifestation—Angel, Word, Wisdom, Glory—converge in one person.
- Augustine, in The Trinity (II.17), taught that “the Word of God appeared to the fathers in the form of a created thing, yet remained uncreated in Himself.”
- Calvin, commenting on Exodus 3, wrote, “There is no reason to doubt that the Angel was the same Son of God who was afterwards manifested in flesh.”
- John Owen, in Christologia (II.2), summarized: “He who appeared unto the fathers under various names and forms was the eternal Word, the Son, who was afterward made man.”
Their point is not speculation but continuity: the God who reveals Himself in these ways is one and the same. The Word who spoke from the bush and whispered in the cave is the Christ who later walked among His people.
4. Theological Significance
Recognizing this unity keeps the story of Scripture whole. God does not change His manner of relating; He deepens it.
In the Old Testament He comes by vision and voice; in the New He comes by incarnation and Spirit.
The Angel who carries the divine name, the Word who comes and speaks, and the Lord who dwells among His people all belong to one continuous revelation of the Triune God.
Elijah’s cave therefore stands within that larger history. The voice that reached him is the same voice that later said to the storm, “Peace, be still.”
The God who once spoke through the Angel now speaks through the Son, and through the Spirit still comes and speaks to the weary hearts of His servants today.
IX. Reformed Reflection – Word, Spirit, and Scripture
The Reformed heritage stands within the same stream that runs from Elijah’s cave to Christ’s voice: the living God reveals Himself through the Word, and the Spirit makes that Word present and powerful.
The Spirit Speaking in Scripture
The Reformers described revelation as the ongoing work of the Spirit speaking in the written Word.
1. The Westminster Confession of Faith (1.10) expresses it clearly:
“The supreme judge by which all controversies of religion are to be determined, and all decrees of councils, opinions of ancient writers, doctrines of men, and private spirits are to be examined; and in whose sentence we are to rest; can be no other but the Holy Spirit speaking in the Scripture.”
That line compresses centuries of conviction: the same Spirit who spoke to Elijah still speaks in the text. God’s Word is still living because God Himself goes with it.
2. Calvin writes in the Institutes (I.vii.4):
“Scripture exhibits fully as clear evidence of its own truth as white and black things do of their color, or sweet and bitter things do of their taste.”
For Calvin, the Spirit’s internal witness (testimonium Spiritus Sancti internum) does not replace Scripture but illumines it.
The believer hears God in the Word because the same Spirit who inspired it now opens the heart to receive it.
3. The Word and the Spirit Together
John Owen, in The Causes, Ways, and Means of Understanding the Mind of God, warned that neglecting the Spirit leads to “a dry letter,” while separating the Spirit from the Word breeds enthusiasm.
Owen’s solution was balance: “The Spirit and the Word are the means of all divine illumination.”
The Spirit who spoke in prophets and apostles continues to speak through their writings, never against them.
4. Herman Bavinck later gathered the same truth in his Reformed Dogmatics (vol. 1, p. 456):
“Revelation is completed in Christ, yet the Word and the Spirit still accompany each other. The Word remains the form; the Spirit gives it life.”
This unity guards both the authority of Scripture and the vitality of faith.
Without the Spirit, the text would remain a closed book; without the Word, our spirituality would dissolve into imagination.
Together they preserve the same balance Elijah experienced in the cave—divine nearness that speaks truth with gentleness.
5. A Living Voice for Every Age
Reformed theology therefore sees preaching, reading, and hearing as moments of divine address.
When Scripture is read and proclaimed, the Spirit again causes the Word to come and speak.
This is not new revelation but renewed encounter.
As Bavinck said elsewhere (vol. 1, p. 604), “In the church, Christ himself, through the Spirit, continues to speak by his Word.”
That conviction frees the preacher from striving to be original. The pulpit’s power lies not in novelty but in the nearness of the same voice that whispered to Elijah.
The Spirit speaking in Scripture turns reading into hearing and hearing into worship.
Every time the Word comes to us in power, the Lord who once passed by the cave passes by again.
X. Faith Comes by Hearing — The Word Preached and Believed
“So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” — Romans 10:17 (ESV)
1. Paul’s line of thought in Romans 10:1–17
Paul’s theme is the movement of the Word from God to the world.
He begins with Israel’s unbelief (10:1–4) and moves toward the way salvation comes to all who call on the Lord (10:5–13).
Then he asks a chain of rhetorical questions:
“How then will they call on him in whom they have not believed?
And how are they to believe in him of whom they have never heard?
And how are they to hear without someone preaching?” (10:14–15)
Finally, he concludes:
“So faith comes from hearing, and hearing through the word of Christ.” (10:17)
That sentence (ἡ πίστις ἐξ ἀκοῆς, ἡ δὲ ἀκοὴ διὰ ῥήματος Χριστοῦ) completes the same pattern seen in Elijah: The Word comes and speaks, and the prophet or preacher first hears before he proclaims.
2. Reception before speech
The prophet in the old covenant and the preacher in the new share one vocation: they are both hearers before they are speakers.
Elijah hides in the cave until the Word of the LORD comes and speaks; the apostle preaches only what he has heard from Christ.
Paul’s phrase ῥῆμα Χριστοῦ — “the word of Christ” — echoes the same term used in the LXX for “the word of the LORD.”
The continuity is deliberate.
Just as the ῥῆμα Κυρίου came to the prophets, the ῥῆμα Χριστοῦ now comes through the gospel.
Hearing is still the first act of grace; speech follows as obedience.
This is why Reformed confessions place such weight on the external Word preached—the Spirit uses hearing as His ordinary means of faith’s creation (Westminster Confession 14.1).
3. The Word’s descent and ascent
Romans 10 is framed by the quotation from Deuteronomy 30:
“Do not say in your heart, ‘Who will ascend into heaven?’ … ‘Who will descend into the abyss?’ But what does it say? ‘The word is near you, in your mouth and in your heart.’” (10:6–8)
Paul applies this to Christ: The Word has already come down.
The movement is the same as in Elijah’s cave—the transcendent God comes near, speaks, and awakens faith.
The prophet’s listening prefigures the believer’s hearing.
Every Christian conversion re-enacts Elijah’s moment: the living Word approaches, whispers through the preached gospel, and faith arises.
4. The Memra and the Word of Christ
Our exploration of the Memra sharpens this connection.
In the Targums, the Memra of the LORD is the way God’s speech becomes encounter.
In Romans 10, that same divine dynamic reaches its fulfillment: the ῥῆμα Χριστοῦ is the Memra of the Lord made flesh and proclaimed.
The Word once heard by prophets in vision is now heard by sinners in the preaching of Christ.
Thus Paul’s sentence — “Faith comes by hearing” — is a New-Covenant form of “the word of the LORD came and said.”
The same living presence that addressed Elijah in a whisper now addresses the church in the gospel.
5. The pastoral implication
For Elijah, hearing preceded mission: “Go, return on your way.”
For the church, hearing also precedes mission: “How shall they preach unless they are sent?” (10:15).
Preachers, like prophets, must receive before they speak.
Faith is born not from inspiration or noise but from the living Word that continues to come and speak through Scripture, by the Spirit, in the preaching of Christ.
Jack Miller understood this as the daily rhythm of gospel life.
In his Overview of A New Life, he wrote that the gospel possesses three elements—facts, promise, and power—but that he discovered a fourth:
“It was that the gospel is a preached message. A word of grace designed to be presented with persuasion, gentleness, and the authority of faith. A message that has power as it is taken to people where they live and presented to them by believing hearts.”
Preaching, for Jack, was not based on personality but on participation in God’s own speaking. That means anyone and everyone in Christ can boldly preach the gospel to themself, to other Christians, and to those who have not believed in Christ.
He continued:
“The gospel is itself the cause of faith in those who hear it. ‘Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the preached word of Christ.’ Therefore, I must preach the gospel to myself as the instrument for believing.”
The same grace that called Elijah from his cave calls every believer and non-believer from self-reliance into hearing faith.
In the preaching of Christ, the ῥῆμα Χριστοῦ —the Word of Christ—moves again through human voices, re-enacting the miracle of Horeb in every heart that listens.
Romans 10 thus stands as a New-Covenant counterpart to 1 Kings 19: the Word still comes; the Word still speaks; and through that hearing the Spirit raises the dead to life.
Every act of faithful preaching becomes a new Horeb—a moment when the whisper of grace fills the silence of human need.
XI. The Word Who Still Comes and Speaks
Elijah’s cave ends with movement. The Word who came and spoke now sends. The prophet wraps his cloak around his face, steps into the mouth of the cave, and hears the command, “Go, return on your way.” The encounter restores his calling.
The same Word that once said, “Let there be light,” now says, “Rise and walk again.”
Grace always concludes with a task because divine speech renews both heart and mission.
Through Scripture that same rhythm continues. The living Word of God still comes through Scripture, preaching, and sacraments (what we call God’s ordinary means of grace), yet it is always the living God Himself who comes near to us and speaks to us.
After all, “To be near to God and have God near to us is the whole purpose of human life.”
God still meets weary servants where courage has drained away, still whispers forgiveness where pride has hardened, still gives direction where confusion reigns.
The coming and the speaking that healed Elijah belong now to the church, for the risen Christ walks among His people as the Word who lives.
Reformed faith calls this the living voice of Scripture—viva vox Dei.
When the Spirit illumines the text, the believer hears not a memory but a presence: the same Lord who spoke in the story now speaking through it.
Every faithful sermon, every prayer shaped by the Psalms, every act of forgiveness within the body becomes another echo of that voice.
The Word continues to come; the Word continues to speak.
Jack Miller ended his sermon on Elijah with this assurance:
“The Lord wants to help you. He loves you. He loves you in ways that you could never, never understand.”
(“Christ: A Greater Prophet than Elijah”)
That same tenderness fills Elijah’s cave and the gospel itself. The fire that once fell in judgment now warms in mercy; the whisper that called Elijah out now calls the church into mission.
That nearness of God defines the Christian life. The Word that came to Elijah still comes through the Scriptures, in the Spirit, through the Son—calling every believer out of fear into fellowship.
God still draws near. He still speaks. And those who hear Him rise, wrap their cloaks around their faces, and step forward into the light of a world that still needs to know that the Lord, He is God.
