Sticks

“Am I a dog,” he said to David, “that you come at me with sticks?” And the Philistine cursed David by his gods.

So Elijah got up and went to Zarephath. When he arrived at the city gate, there was a widow gathering sticks. Elijah called to her and said, “Please bring me a little water in a cup, so that I may drink.”

But she replied, “As surely as the LORD your God lives, I have no bread—only a handful of flour in a jar and a little oil in a jug. Look, I am gathering a couple of sticks to take home and prepare a meal for myself and my son, so that we may eat it and die.”

My strength is dried up like a potsherd, and my tongue sticks to the roof of my mouth. You lay me in the dust of death.

When the sticks on which you write are in your hand and in full view of the people,

Paul gathered a bundle of sticks, and as he laid them on the fire, a viper, driven out by the heat, fastened itself to his hand.