Latest / Intentional Guy / Under the Tree
Transcript
- Michael chestnut: What if I told you one of the strongest men in the Bible, one of the boldest prophets in Scripture, one day sat under a tree and asked God to let him die? Not because he didn't love God, not because he had no faith, but because he was exhausted, depleted, burnt out. And maybe that's where some of you are right now. You still show up. Still smile, still function, but deep down, you're tired, tired of the addiction, tired of the shame, tired of fighting your own mind, tired of pretending you're okay. Today I want to talk to the man sitting under his own tree, wondering if his story is over. There's a moment in Scripture that hits differently when you're actually living through brokenness. Not polished church brokenness, real brokenness. The kind that keeps you awake at night. The kind where shame feels heavier than hope. The story is found in 1 Kings 19. Most people know Elijah for Mount Carmel, calling fire down from heaven, victory, power, boldness. He stood before hundreds of false prophets and prayed, and God answered by fire. Can you imagine the adrenaline rush of that moment? The pressure? The intensity? It looked like strength. It looked like certainty. It looked like a man completely full of faith. But what most people don't realize is this. Right after Elijah's greatest victory came one of the darkest moments mentally. Because sometimes men don't break down during the battle. Sometimes they break after the battle is over. And that's where we find Elijah. Not on the mountain, not preaching, not leading, not winning. We find him alone under a tree. Asking God to let him die. Think about that. Prophet, a man of God, a man used powerfully by heaven, and now he's sitting in the wilderness whispering God, I've had enough. Man, some of you know exactly what that feels like. You may still be going to work, still paying bills, still providing, still sit in church, but internally. You're exhausted, soul exhausted. You're tired of carrying pressure no one sees, tired of fighting thoughts you can't tell anybody. Some men listening are drowning in shame. Some are secretly battling lust. Some are struggling with depression. Some feel trapped in addiction. Some feel like failures as husbands. Father or Christian men, and eventually the enemy starts whispering lies. You'll never change. You've ruined everything. You're too far gone. Everybody would be better off without you. That's wilderness talk. And if I'm being honest, I know something about sitting under the tree myself. There was a season in my life where everything fell apart. Not publicly at first. Most brokenness starts in secret. Mine started with lust, compromise, addiction, hidden chains that slowly hollowed me out from the inside. And eventually the weight of my own sin crushed me. I carried so much shame. Shame as a husband. Shame as a father. Shame as a Christian man. And maybe the hardest part was I knew better. I knew truth. But I still felt trapped. And eventually the darkness got so heavy, I found myself laying in a hospital bed in a mental ward, wishing I was dead. Not because I hated God. I just couldn't see a future anymore. I couldn't see restoration. I couldn't see purpose. I couldn't imagine God doing anything good with the wreckage I had made. And just like Elijah, I was depleted, emotionally depleted, mentally depleted, spiritually depleted. I was tired of fighting myself. Tired of disappointing people, tired of carrying the crushing weight of shame. And here's what I've learned. When you're under the tree, you cannot see what God sees. All you can see is failure. But God sees restoration. God sees survival. God sees the future version of you. That will help pull other men out of darkness. I had no idea back then that it would take fifteen years for God to fully restore me from what I was broken. Fifteen years. Most people want overnight healing, but sometimes God rebuilds a man slowly, piece by piece, truth by truth, scar by scar. And now One of the greatest honors of my life is sitting across from broken men over coffee almost weakly, telling them, brother, I know what hopelessness feels like. I know what shame feels like. I know what it feels like to think your story is over. But God restores broken men. And that's why this part of Elijah's story matters so much to me. Because when Elijah collapsed under the tree, God did not show up with shame. God did not scream at him. God did not say, You should have more faith. Why are you struggling? What's wrong with you? No. God let him rest. Then an angel touched him and said, Get up and eat. I love that. Before correction came compassion. Before instruction came rest. God understood Elijah was exhausted. And maybe somebody listening needs to hear this. Sometimes the most spiritual thing a broken man can do is admit he's exhausted. Not hide. Not numb himself, not isolate, not pretend, just finally tell the truth. And hear me clearly. If you are struggling mentally, reach out for help. Counseling is not weakness. Recovery is not weakness. Talking to someone is not weakness. Weakness is pretending your soul is fine. While everything inside you is collapsing. The enemy loves isolated men, men sitting in dark rooms believing lies, men convinced nobody understands. But Elijah wasn't alone. Even when he felt alone, he was not, and neither are you. Because the powerful thing about this story. Is Elijah thought the tree was the end, but God still had purpose ahead of him, still had assignments, still had people connected to his obedience, and maybe the enemy's greatest fear is that you survived this season. Because if you survive it, God may use your wound to help heal somebody else. That's what he did with me. The hospital bed wasn't wasted. The tears weren't wasted. The wilderness wasn't wasted. The years were not wasted. God took the very thing that almost destroyed me and turned it into a bridge to help other broken men find hope. Only God can do that. So here's my challenge for you this week. Stop hiding under the tree alone. Tell somebody the truth. One person. A pastor, a brother, a counselor, a friend, your wife. But stop fighting in silence. And maybe before you do anything else, rest. Breathe. Put the mask down. Because exhausted men make hopeless decisions. And if all you can do right now is hold on, then hold on. Because your story is not over. And brother, God still meets men in the wilderness.