Twenty-four point eight miles.
It’s just a number, really. A short distance that most of us drive without a second thought. The kind of distance a jogger covers on a good morning, or a horse traverses in an easy hour. But sometimes the shortest distances hold the deepest mysteries of faith.
Just ask David. For him, those 24.8 miles between Elah and Ziklag might as well have been the distance between heaven and earth. Between triumph and tragedy. Between giant-slayer and broken warrior.
Remember Elah? The valley where a shepherd boy stood toe-to-toe with a giant, armed with nothing but five smooth stones and mountain-moving faith. Where the air itself seemed to crackle with divine possibility. Where victory danced on the wind and courage ran like a river. Young David, shoulders straight, eyes blazing, standing tall in the shadow of Goliath. The crowd’s roars still echo through time: the king’s daughter, instant wealth, glory untold.
But then there’s Ziklag.
Oh, Ziklag. Just a day’s journey away, but worlds apart. Where smoke rises from ransacked homes and tears fall like rain. Where mighty warriors whisper of stoning their leader, and David – yes, that same David – finds himself stripped of everything. Family. Possessions. Hope itself.
Isn’t it amazing how life can turn on a dime? One moment we’re standing in Elah, tasting victory’s sweet nectar, and the next we’re stumbling through Ziklag’s ashes. I know that journey all too well. Maybe you do too.
We all want to live in Elah. We love those mountaintop moments when faith feels invincible and God seems as close as our next breath. But life has a way of leading us down that 24.8-mile road to Ziklag. The pink slip arrives. The doctor’s call comes late at night. The child rebels. The marriage crumbles.
But here’s the beautiful truth hidden in those 24.8 miles: the same God who stood with David in Elah walked with him to Ziklag. And when David had nothing left – when his men were ready to stone him and his world lay in ashes – Scripture tells us he “found strength in the Lord his God.”
Found strength. Not created it. Not manufactured it. Found it. Like a treasure waiting to be discovered in the rubble of defeat.
You see, sometimes God allows us to travel those 24.8 miles because He wants to show us something profound: that victory isn’t about location – it’s about presence. His presence. The same presence that helped David slay Goliath was right there in Ziklag’s ashes, waiting to help him rise again.
And rise he did. From those very ashes, David rallied his men, pursued the raiders, and “recovered all.” Every lost treasure. Every stolen blessing. Every shattered dream.
Maybe you’re standing in your own Ziklag right now. The smoke of defeat burns your eyes, and victory seems a million miles away. But take heart, dear friend. Elah isn’t as far as you think. The same God who gave you victory before is right there with you, ready to do it again.
Because here’s the miracle: sometimes the 24.8 miles between defeat and victory is simply the distance it takes to fall to your knees.
Remember, God specializes in turning Ziklags into Elahs. After all, He’s the One who turned a cross into an empty tomb. And He’s not finished yet.
So stand up, dust off those ashes, and lift your eyes. Victory isn’t 24.8 miles away.
It’s as close as your next prayer.
