Elijah: The Prophet of Fire

Summary

Podcast Summary

The Chosen People – “Elijah: The Prophet of Fire”

Host: Pray.com
Release Date: August 5, 2026

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Episode Overview

This episode of The Chosen People delves into the dramatic and spiritual journey of Elijah, the renowned “Prophet of Fire,” as he confronts King Ahab in a court steeped in decadence and idolatry, proclaims a divine drought, flees into the wilderness, and experiences God’s surprising provisions and mysterious silences. Through vivid narration and intimate dialogue, the episode explores the themes of faith during hardship, obedience amid uncertainty, the cost of prophetic calling, and the quiet provision of God in desperate times.

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Key Discussion Points & Insights

1. Setting the Spiritual and Political Context

• [02:43] The narrative opens in Ahab’s indulgent throne room, rich with images of excess and spiritual decay: “The too sweet stench of overripe fruit… The scent of a kingdom that had long since stopped fearing Yahuwah.”
• King Ahab and Queen Jezebel are established as power-hungry, unrepentant, and deeply entwined with Baal worship.

2. Elijah’s Confrontation with King Ahab

• [05:06-08:37] Elijah bursts into the corrupt court and boldly prophesies a drought:
  • Elijah: “There will be no dew, no rain. Not even a whisper of moisture upon this land until I say otherwise.” ([05:58])
  • The confrontation is tense, alternating between scorn, conviction, and spiritual authority:
    • Ahab: “Do you think the heavens will obey you? ... Do you think I fear your God?” ([06:30])
    • Elijah: “You call the Lord my God, but you know very well he is your God too. The God you prayed to when you were a boy, before your body grew fat and your mind grew polluted…” ([07:17])
• Jezebel’s Influence: When Elijah invokes the queen, fear and tension escalate — her power perceived as ominous even by her absence:
  • Elijah: “Perhaps you should ask your queen what to do.” ([08:37])
  • Narrator: “Jezebel was not present, but her presence permeated every room. Everyone knew her power, how it coiled around Ahab's decisions like a serpent.” ([08:41])

3. Elijah’s Flight and Exile

• [11:13-12:58] After pronouncing judgment, Elijah hears God’s single, urgent command:
  • God: “Run.” ([11:13])
• A vivid depiction of Elijah's escape:
  • “He ran until his legs burned, until his vision blurred, until the adrenaline drained from his blood and left only the hollow ache of a man who. Who had just declared war on an entire kingdom.” ([11:14])
• Collapsing by the wadi Kereth, Elijah finds solace in water and startling silence from God:
  • Elijah: “Well, here I am.” ([12:58])
  • God’s instruction: “For a time. Until the brook is no more.” ([13:50])

4. ** Provision by the Ravens: Faith and Humility**

• [14:43-16:24] Elijah expresses his discomfort about God's chosen means of provision — being fed by unclean ravens:
  • Elijah (sarcastic): “You send manna to our fathers bread from heaven, and to me, unclean scavengers. This is the great provision.” ([15:41])
  • God: “Does it not fill your stomach the same?” ([15:50])
• Elijah’s reluctant but faithful acceptance:
  • “Well, if this is my fate.” (He eats what the ravens bring.) ([16:20])

5. The Drying Brook: Learning to Trust

• [18:31-21:07] Elijah’s days by the brook are marked by uncertainty as the water slowly dries up:
  • Elijah (wrestling): “I thought I was supposed to be your prophet... I see. Now I'm just waiting to watch the brook run dry, aren't I?” ([20:08])
  • God (unapologetic): “I lead where I lead, Elijah. Abraham knew this. Moses knew this. You will learn faith, Elijah. Trust.” ([14:30] and [20:41]**)
• When the brook is finally dry, God sends Elijah to Zarephath:
  • God: “Good. Rise. Go to Zarephath. There a widow awaits.” ([21:07])

6. Elijah and the Widow of Zarephath

• [21:15-28:24] The town is gripped by famine; Elijah finds a widow gathering sticks with her starving son.
• He makes a bold, compassionate request for food and water, even after she confesses her dire circumstances:
  • Widow: “I swear on the Lord your God I don't have any bread. Just a handful of flour, a little oil. ... one last meal for me and my boy...” ([23:56])
  • Elijah: “Go ahead. Make your meal. But first, make me a small loaf... Because Yahweh says this: The flour will not dry out. The oil will not dry out. Not until the rain comes.” ([24:52])
• Miraculously, her supplies do not run out; over time, a makeshift family forms.

7. Tragedy and Resurrection: Wrestling with God

• [28:24-31:43] The widow’s son falls ill and dies. In her grief, she confronts Elijah:
  • Widow: “You made me hope. ... Now my son is dead.” ([28:34-28:39])
• Elijah’s raw, honest prayer as he pleads with God for resurrection:
  • Elijah: “You topple kings. You provide for widows. You send birds to feed old fools. I ask you to do what only you have the power to do. Breathe life into this boy as you once did for Adam…” ([30:31])
• Miraculously, the boy revives. The moment is marked by relief and awe:
  • Narrator: “Elijah let out a breath. Then he laughed. He scooped the boy into his arms, laughing through the tears. Yahuwah had not abandoned him. Not at the brook, not here. Not ever.” ([31:43])

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Notable Quotes & Memorable Moments

• Elijah, standing firm before Ahab:

  “You will learn. When the rivers crack into dust, when your fields shrivel and die, when the sky above you is as unyielding as iron, you will know that it is not BAAL who commands the rain.” ([08:02])

• God’s challenge to trust:

  “I lead where I lead, Elijah. Abraham knew this. Moses knew this. You will learn faith, Elijah. Trust.” ([14:30])

• Elijah’s humility in hardship:

  “You send manna to our fathers bread from heaven, and to me, unclean scavengers. This is the great provision.” ([15:41])

• The widow’s deep lament:

  “You made me hope. ... Now my son is dead.” ([28:34-28:39])

• Elijah’s desperate prayer:

  “I know you can change this. I've seen your power. Let this boy live.” ([29:57]) “You topple kings. You provide for widows. You send birds to feed old fools. … Breathe life into this boy as you once did for Adam.” ([30:31])

• Narrator, after the miracle:

  “Yahweh had not abandoned him. Not at the brook, not here. Not ever.” ([31:43])

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Timestamps for Important Segments

• [02:43] – Introduction to Ahab’s court; Elijah’s dramatic entrance
• [05:06-08:41] – Elijah confronts Ahab, proclaims drought, references Jezebel
• [11:13-12:58] – Elijah flees into the wilderness, divine command to "run"
• [14:43-16:24] – God’s provision by the ravens and Elijah’s struggle with humility
• [18:31-21:07] – Brook dries up; lesson in trust and transition to Zarephath
• [23:24-25:13] – Encounter with the widow; promise of provision
• [28:24-31:43] – The son’s death, Elijah’s anguished prayer, and miraculous resurrection

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Podcast Tone and Style

The episode maintains a lush, evocative storytelling style tinged with both humor and poignant gravity. The dialogue captures both the defiance of the prophets and the trembling uncertainties of those suffering. The podcast uses dramatic narrative techniques, immersive sound design, and careful pace shifts to draw listeners emotionally into Elijah’s ancient but relevant struggle.

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Conclusion

“Elijah: The Prophet of Fire” brings the Old Testament prophet’s legend vividly to life, inviting listeners to reflect on the challenge of faith when divine provision feels confusing or incomplete. Through moments of both bold confrontation and intimate vulnerability, the episode paints a portrait of a prophet learning to trust God’s unpredictable, sometimes uncomfortable ways—showing how hope and provision might look different than expected, but are no less miraculous.

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Transcript

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See Terms previously on the Chosen People. With the death of Rehoboam, the house of David was diminished. Meanwhile, in the northern kingdom, the house of Jeroboam was doomed. And though the fathers had gone astray from the Lord, it was their sons who would drive their kingdoms to ruin. For Omri was not just a soldier, he was a builder, a strategist, a king who would leave a lasting mark. It would be in his son, Ahab, a name that would become legend, a name that would become a curse. For it was said of him, he did more evil in the eyes of the Lord than any who came before him. He and his queen Jezebel would shape the world to their liking.

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[Narrator]

The throne room of Samaria reeked of indulgence. Roasted meats dripping fat onto polished stone. The too sweet stench of overripe fruit left half eaten on golden trays. The scent of a kingdom that had long since stopped fearing Yahuwah. The air was warm, humid with breath and laughter and the lazy murmur of priests who knew their prayers were more performance than devotion. Ahab, King of Israel, lounged at the center of it all, sprawled in his throne like a man who had never known hunger, whose hands had never known the weight of real labor, whose problems had always been someone else's to solve. He smirked at the latest toaster, baal, his fingers tapping absently against his goblet. Then the doors slammed open with a crack. A priest's voice wavered mid incantation, a musician's lyre. Strings snapped. Goblets rattled against platters. For a single stretched moment, the court was frozen in tableau wine, spilling hands hesitating, heads turning. And there in the doorway stood Elijah, the Prophet of Fire. His words had already burned their way through the land, they said. When he spoke, men felt their ribs tighten like they'd breathed in smoke. When he prayed, the wind changed. Now here he was, standing in the doorway like something torn straight out of the wilderness. His cloak was travel stained, his skin roughened by sun and wind. His hands were empty. He carried no sword or scroll. He didn't need such tools to command the room. He had the voice. The guards hesitated. No one wanted to be the first to stop him. Elijah walked forward without hurry, his eyes scanning the throne room like like a man weighing the worth of every soul in it. Ahab watched him approach, one brow arching, smirk deepening.

[King Ahab]

Well, if it isn't the Prophet of Fire. Tell me, have you come to burn down my palace? Or did you simply get lost on the way back to whatever godforsaken cave you crawled out of?

[Elijah]

I've come with a message from God.

[King Ahab]

And which God would that be, Elijah?

[Elijah]

There are many. The God of Israel. The God whom you have abandoned. The God your fathers knew before you sold their birthright for foreign gods.

[Narrator]

Yahweh.

[King Ahab]

I'm not in the mood, Elijah. Scurry back to your hovel in the woods.

[Elijah]

Hear the judgment of Yahweh. There will be no dew, no rain. Not even a whisper of moisture upon this land until I say otherwise.

[Narrator]

The words hit like a hammer against stone. Ahab's smirk twitched. The torches flickered. Somewhere in the back of the room, a servant swallowed audibly. A priest of BAAL shifted in his robes, hands tightening around his staff. Then Ahab laughed.

[King Ahab]

You say there will be no rain. You, a wandering zealot from the wilderness. Do you think the heavens will obey you? Will the rivers dry up because you make threats in Yahweh's name? Or do you think I'm like my father? Do you think I'm some weak kneed fool who trembles at the ramblings of a desert rat? Do you think I fear your God?

[Elijah]

You should.

[King Ahab]

Should I?

[Narrator]

Elijah's eyes flicked just for a moment toward the hulking golden statue of BAAL behind the throne, grotesque and unmoving.

[Elijah]

Ahab. You call the Lord my God, but you know very well he is your God too. The God of your fathers. The God you prayed to when you were a boy, before your body grew fat and your mind grew polluted with lies that reek like the dung of camels. Now look at you. You bow to a God who cannot speak, who cannot move, who cannot even keep his own priests from bleeding all over his altars, crying out for a voice that never answers.

[Narrator]

One of the BAAL priests shifted uncomfortably. Elijah took a slow step forward.

[Elijah]

But you will learn. When the rivers crack into dust, when your fields shrivel and die, when the sky above you is as unyielding as iron, you will know that it is not BAAL who commands the rain.

[Narrator]

Elijah let the words settle. He wanted King Ahab to feel the weight of them wrap around his throat like the first signs of thirst. And then, slowly, deliberately, Elijah's mouth curled into something resembling a smirk.

[Elijah]

Perhaps you should ask your queen what to do.

[Narrator]

The reaction was instant. Ahab's amusement vanished. The room was suddenly too still, too tense. Every breath held. A BAAL priest shifted his grip on his staff, knuckles paling. The torches flickered lower, as though even the flames knew better than to burn too loudly. When she was mentioned, Queen Jezebel was not presence, but her presence permeated every room. Everyone knew her power, how it coiled around Ahab's decisions like a serpent. Her whispers carried more weight than the voices of a hundred advisors.

[King Ahab]

Careful, prophet.

[Elijah]

Why? Afraid she will hear enough?

[Narrator]

Ahab stood. His voice cracked through the silence like a whip. The goblets on the table clattered as his sudden movement sent a tremor through the stone beneath them. Everyone flinched.

[King Ahab]

I should have had you executed for speaking against my queen.

[Elijah]

You cannot kill what Yahweh has sent.

[King Ahab]

We'll see about that.

[Narrator]

The words rang hollow. The rage was real. But something else had settled over the room now. Something older, something heavier than Ahab's anger. Elijah had spoken, and the words were no longer his. Without another word, the prophet turned on his heel and walked away. He left the palace behind. Left the torches and the murmurs and the barely contained fury of a king whose power was already slipping through his fingers. Left the last echoes of laughter still hanging in the air, now tainted with something colder. And as the door slammed shut behind him, the silence in Ahab's court deepened and the king's rage began to boil into malice. The moment the words left his mouth, the minute the last syllable of his prophecy burned through the air of Ahab's court like a dying ember, Elijah heard Yahweh's voice. Not thunder, not wind. Not the crack of fire. Just one word.

[Elijah]

Run.

[Narrator]

It hit like a hammer in his chest. Urgent. Undeniable. He didn't think. He didn't question. He ran through the palace gates before the weight of his words had fully landed. Through the market streets, past the smell of spice and livestock and human sweat, past merchants barking prices and children darting between carts. He ran until the shouts of guards faded behind him and Samaria's walls were a distant stain on the horizon. The wilderness swallowed him whole. His feet tore over dry ground. His breath turned ragged. The heat clawed at his skin. He ran until his legs burned, until his vision blurred, until the adrenaline drained from his blood and left only the hollow ache of a man who. Who had just declared war on an entire kingdom. He had expected fire, thunder, the heavens shaking. Instead, he had received one command and the sound of his own heartbeat pounding in his ears. By the time he reached the wadi Kereth, his limbs were useless things, barely able to drag him to the brook. He collapsed by the water's edge, plunged his face into the stream and drank deep. The cold hit his tongue like mercy. He drank until his stomach cramped, then rolled onto his back, gasping, staring up at the sky that was still for now. Blue. The wind whispered through the reeds. The water murmured over smooth stone. But Yahweh was silent.

[Elijah]

Well, here I am.

[Narrator]

The wind shifted. A pressure, not weight, but presence, settled over him, familiar and vast. A voice deep enough to make his ribs tremble hummed through the marrow of his bones.

[King Ahab]

Here you are, Lord.

[Elijah]

This is. Is the great mission. This is the work of a prophet. I declared judgment over a king and Now I'm living like an exile.

[King Ahab]

Declared judgment. You did, ran. You did, obeyed. You have.

[Narrator]

Elijah sat up, brushing dirt from his cloak, frowning toward the sky.

[Elijah]

And what now? Do I stay here forever?

[King Ahab]

For a time. Until the brook is no more.

[Narrator]

Elijah tensed. The voice of Yahuwah carried no urgency, no worry, only the certainty of a truth that had already been set into motion. Wait.

[Elijah]

The brook will dry.

[King Ahab]

It is as you have said. No rain, no dew, and so no brook there shall be.

[Narrator]

Elijah exhaled sharply, rubbing his hands over his face.

[Elijah]

Wonderful. You could have led me somewhere with the well.

[King Ahab]

I lead where I lead, Elijah. Abraham knew this. Moses knew this. You will learn faith, Elijah. Trust.

[Narrator]

Elijah scoffed, but said nothing. Then came the sound, a sharp cawing. Elijah frowned, looking up. Ravens. Three of them, circling, dipping lower. His stomach twisted, not with hunger, though he felt it gnawing at his ribs, but with something colder. He had a feeling about what was coming next, and he didn't like it. The birds flapped down onto the rocks near him, their claws clutching scraps of meat torn and red crusts of bread half mangled by their beaks. They dropped the food unceremoniously, then hopped back, clicking their beaks, watching him like a jury waiting for a verdict. Elijah stared.

[Elijah]

You have got to be kidding me.

[Narrator]

Eat the ravens.

[King Ahab]

So they are.

[Elijah]

You send manna to our fathers bread from heaven, and to me, unclean scavengers. This is the great provision.

[King Ahab]

Does it not fill your stomach the same?

[Narrator]

Elijah dragged a hand down his face, muttering under his breath. The ravens cawed louder, hopping closer, impatient. His gut clenched. Ravens. Unclean. Vile creatures. Feeding on carrion, feasting on the dead. And now feeding him. He pressed his lips together, then sighed through his nose.

[Elijah]

Well, if this is my fate.

[Narrator]

He picked up a piece of bread, brushed off the dirt, and took a bite. Elijah silently noticed it somehow tasted much better than it looked. The ravens flapped their wings, seeming satisfied. The Lord said nothing, but Elijah swore he was watching.

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[Narrator]

Days passed. Elijah drank from the brook, ate what the ravens brought, and let his body recover from the journey. He still spoke, though his words were now for God alone. At first it was bitter, muttered complaints, complaints in the dark, then slow acceptance. By the fourth day he had stopped doubting the birds. By the seventh, he expected them. He did not ask where the food came from, if it was stolen from the table of the wicked or plucked from the hands of a dying beast. It came. That was enough. But then one morning, the brook was different. He crouched beside it, cupped the water in his hands, drank, and frowned. It tasted the same, but the sound had changed. He listened. The rush of water over stone was less, just barely, but enough. Elijah stilled. The next day the brook had decreased more. The reeds that had once swayed in the current now leaned dry against the bank. By the fifth day, the trickle of water had grown thin. He tried rationing, drinking only when the sun reached its highest, but the cracks in the riverbed deepened. The brook was dying, and the Lord was silent. Elijah sat on the ground, staring at the vanishing stream, his fingers dug out absently into the dirt.

[Elijah]

So this is the plan. I thought I was supposed to be your prophet. I. I thought you sent me here to provide. But I see. Now I'm just waiting to watch the brook run dry, aren't I? You could make it last. You could split a rock, make rivers flow in the desert. You did it for Moses.

[King Ahab]

I could.

[Elijah]

But you won't.

[King Ahab]

No.

[Narrator]

Elijah exhaled slowly.

[King Ahab]

What have you learned, Elijah?

[Narrator]

He was quiet for a long time.

[Elijah]

Then the brook isn't this horse.

[Narrator]

You are the last of the water trickled over stone. Elijah wiped the sweat from his brow and closed his eyes.

[King Ahab]

Good. Rise. Go to Zarephath. There a widow awaits.

[Narrator]

Elijah opened his eyes. The brook was dry, the sky empty, but he was not afraid. Zarafath was on its last breath. The drought had sunk its claws into the land, and it wasn't letting go. People shuffled through the streets with hollow eyes, their ribs showing beneath worn tunics. The market stalls were mostly empty, just a few shriveled vegetables, some desperate merchants haggling over things that would have been worthless a year ago. Baal's priests stood on the street corners, their voices hoarse from shouting prayers to a God that wasn't answering. The smell of burnt sacrifices clung to the air. Animals mostly, for now, But Elijah had heard the whispers. They were running out of livestock, and when that happened, Elijah BAAL would demand more. Elijah pulled his cloak tighter around him and walked through the streets, keeping his head low. He shouldn't have been there. Zarephath belonged to Jezebel. Her father had ruled this place, and her priests ran it. Now, if they knew who he was, they'd drag him straight to her. But the Lord had sent him here to fight. Find a widow. Elijah searched for a long while. Then he found her outside the city, crouched near a pile of brittle twigs, her son at her side. The boy was small, maybe seven, his face smudged with dust, his ribs showing beneath his tunic. He clung to her sleeve, eyes darting between Elijah and the road, like he was used to men showing up and taking things. The woman was thin, her movements slow, careful, like she was rationing her own strength. When she looked up, there was no curiosity in her face, just exhaustion.

[Elijah]

Oh, there, my lady. Would you bring me a little water?

[Narrator]

She stiffened, her fingers tightening around the bundle of sticks, but she stood without argument. Water was precious, but not impossible. Her mother had always taught her to show hospitality to the stranger. She turned toward the well and a piece of bread. The widow stopped cold. The boy clung tighter to her, his small hands gripping her robe. Slowly she turned back, and this time there was something sharp in her face, something tired and angry. Listen, sir. I swear on the Lord your God I don't have any bread. Just a handful of flour, a little oil. That's it. I was gathering these sticks to make one last meal for me and my boy.

[Elijah]

Before. Before.

[Narrator]

Before we sleep. And don't wake up again. Elijah's throat felt tight. He had seen hunger before, but this. This was surrender.

[Elijah]

Such a dire outlook. Don't be afraid, my child. Your way sees your struggle. Huh?

[Narrator]

The words came out softer than he expected.

[Elijah]

Go ahead. Make your meal. But first, make me a small loaf. Then one for yourself and your son. Because Yahweh says this. The flour will not dry out. The oil will not dry out. Not until the rain comes.

[Narrator]

The woman stared at Elijah for a long moment, her lips pressed together, her eyes flicking to her son. And then she moved. Why? She wasn't quite sure herself. It certainly was not because she believed. Not yet. After what she had seen, it was too hard to believe in anything anymore. Inside the house, she scraped the last of the flour into a bowl. She tipped the jug, watching the final drops of oil slide out. Her hands moved quickly, practiced kneading the dough with the same quiet precision of a woman who had done this a thousand times before. She turned to stoke the fire. Then she turned back, and the flour jar wasn't empty. Her breath hitched. The oil jug was heavier. She grabbed it, shaking it lightly. Liquid sloshed like golden honey. Her son tugged on her robe, peering into the jar. Her knees nearly gave out. Elijah, standing in the doorway, watched. He smiled gently because he knew he had learned it at the brook. Provision comes not all at once, but as you need it. Weeks passed. The boy, once too weak to play, was running again, his laughter echoing through the small house. The widow smiled more, though sometimes Elijah caught her checking the flower jar when she thought no one was looking. Old habits, he understood. But the oil never failed. The flower never ran out. The three of them settled into something strange, something Elijah hadn't known in years. Family. It happened slowly. The widow stopped calling him the Prophet and just started calling him Elijah. He started referring to her as Sister, half jokingly at first, until it wasn't a joke anymore. The boy, in the way children know things before adults do, started calling, calling him Uncle Elijah. And Elijah didn't correct him. Then the fever came. It started small, just heat, just a little tiredness. Then the boy stopped eating, stopped moving. His breathing grew shallow. And then one morning, he didn't wake up. The house sat in hollow silence. Elijah sat by the fire, fingers wrapped around a clay cup, staring into the embers. Then he heard her cry. It was the sound of something breaking. The cup slipped from his fingers, shattering on the floor. He turned and she was standing in the doorway, the boy limp in her arms. Her breath was ragged, her eyes red, her whole body shaking.

[Elijah]

What if you did done to me?

[Narrator]

Elijah's stomach dropped.

[Elijah]

You came here.

[Narrator]

You brought your God with you. You made me hope.

[Elijah]

You made me believe.

[Narrator]

And now.

[Elijah]

Now my son is dead.

[Narrator]

Her hands clenched in the boy's tunic, her fingers curling around the fabric like she could hold him here, like she could anchor him to life if held tight enough. Elijah swallowed hard. His hands curled into fists. This wasn't supposed to happen. He took a step forward.

[Elijah]

Give him to me.

[Narrator]

She hesitated, her whole body tense. Then slowly she let him go. Elijah carried the boy upstairs, his heart pounding. He laid him on the bed and shut the door. The air felt heavy, pressing down on him. He knelt beside the bed, hands gripping the edge. Yahweh. What is this Silence.

[Elijah]

She trusted you. I trusted you. And now her. Her. Her child. Oh God. The boy. Please, Lord, save the boy.

[Narrator]

No answer. Elijah exhaled sharply and leaned over the boy, pressing his hands against the child's still chest.

[Elijah]

Yohei. My God. Why have you done this? I. I know you can change this. I've seen your power. Let this boy live.

[Narrator]

Nothing. His breath shook. He stretched himself over the child, forehead to forehead, hands gripping the bed.

[Elijah]

Please.

[Narrator]

Still nothing. He pulled back, shaking. This couldn't be the end. He wouldn't accept it. He pressed his hands against the boy again, voice breaking.

[Elijah]

Yahweh. My God. You are the giver of life. Every breath we take is a gift given by you. You topple kings. You provide for widows. You send birds to feed old fools. I ask you to do what only you have the power to do. Breathe life into this boy as you once did for Adam. I know you can. I beg you in your mind, please bring this child back.

[Narrator]

Suddenly the air shifted. The stillness cracked. And then the boy gasped. Elijah jerked back, eyes wide, watching the color rush back into the boy's cheeks, his chest rising, falling, rising again.

[Elijah]

And then. My boy. My boy. Thank you. Thank you. My boy. My boy.

[Narrator]

Elijah let out a breath. Then he laughed. He scooped the boy into his arms, laughing through the tears. Yahuwah had not abandoned him. Not at the brook, not here. Not ever. This prey.com production is only made possible by our dedicated team of creative talents. Steve Katina, Max Bard, Zach Schellewager and Ben Gammon are the executive producers of the Chosen People. Narrated by Paul Coltofianu Characters are voiced by Jonathan Cotton, Aaron Salvato, Sarah Seltz, Mike Reagan, Steven Ringwald, Sylvia zaradoc, Thomas Copeland Jr. Rosanna Pilcher and Mitch Leschinsky. Music by Andrew Morgan Smith written by Aaron Salvato, Bree Rosalie and Chris Baig. You can hear more prey.com productions on the prey.com app available on the Apple App Store and Google Play Store. If you enjoyed the chosen people, please rate and leave a review.

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[Narrator]

Every act of change begins with a neighbor, with someone saying, we take care of each other.

[King Ahab]

Here.

[Narrator]

In food banks and food pantries, neighbors pack fresh food and dignity into every box, moving food from farms to families through Feeding America's nationwide network. So when that box reaches a home, it carries more than food. It carries a promise that together we can end hunger. Feeding America, led by neighbors, Give now

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