The God Who Supplies says, “Fear not!”

A voice spoke as the widow reached for a twig on the ground.

“A drink, please. A little water in a jar.”

She squinted through the midday glare at the wild, unkempt man. Dressed in camel’s skin, he looked like a refugee of the present famine. Or a lunatic. But she was alert to the possibility he might be the prophet God commanded her to care for — not that her life wasn’t hard enough already.

“Then please bring me a piece of bread,” the wild man asked.

She laughed. “I’ll get you a drink of water — not that there is a lot of water to be had — but as for bread, as surely as the LORD your God lives, I don’t have any. All I have is a little meal and oil and I’m going to bake a biscuit over these twigs and share it with my son. Then we’ll starve to death.”

The man spoke with authority. “Do that. Make a biscuit for yourself and your son. But first, make one and bring it to me. For this is what the LORD, the God of Israel says, 'The canister of flour will not be used up or the cruet of oil will not run dry until the day the God Who Supplies sends rain.'

“Fear not!”

As if moving in a dream the widow made the bread, her son watching with hungry eyes. As the aroma of bread filled the house, he whimpered and reached for it.

When it was baked, before she changed her mind, she ran through the streets back to the prophet, her son’s hungry wails echoing behind her. She thrust the biscuit and jar of water into the hand of the prophet and went home. Had she lost her mind to stake her own life and that of her son on God’s provision?

Trembling, she reached for the flour canister to shake the meager dregs into her kneading bowl. To her surprise, a healthy measure fell out. She poured a stream of oil. Despite what she had given to the prophet, there was enough to provide for today.

And the next day, after she fed the prophet, there was enough again. And the day after that. And everyday after that until sky finally turned dark and the rain fell.