Who Are You on LinkedIn?

“And Ahab had called Obadiah who was over the household. (Now Obadiah feared the Lord greatly, for it was so, when Jezebel massacred the prophets of the Lord, that Obadiah had taken one hundred prophets and hidden them, fifty to a cave, and had fed them with bread and water.)”

— 1 Kings 18:3–4

You are getting noticed.

Add me to your network.

See who viewed your profile.

If you spend any time on LinkedIn, you know these phrases by heart. They follow you around like a shadow, promising that with the right headline, the right photo, and the right list of accomplishments, the world will finally see how much you matter.

A few months ago, we sat through an excellent training on how to build a solid LinkedIn profile and a strong personal brand. It was genuinely good, and I have no complaint about it. But somewhere between the tips on headlines and endorsements, my mind drifted somewhere else entirely.

I started wondering what the heroes of the faith would have put on their profiles. Would they even have a LinkedIn account? What would their “About” section say? If you scrolled past their names in your feed, would you stop? Would you give them a like, a reply, a mention? Would you consider them for a job — for any job?

Be honest. Most of them would not make the honor roll at any university. Most of them would never land a six-figure offer. Some of them would not clear the first round of screening. And yet these are the men and women who changed history — whose lives we are still reading about thousands of years later.

Here is the quiet, uncomfortable truth I keep coming back to. We spend enormous energy polishing a brand and staying busy, comfortable, and safe. They spent their lives on something else entirely.

While we thank God for a roof over our heads and food on our table, some of them risked their lives to put food in the mouths of the hungry during a famine.

I am thinking of Obadiah.

Picture his LinkedIn intro:

Obadiah | Servant of the King | Keeper of hidden prophets | Faithful in famine

Obadiah worked for the two most powerful and most dangerous people of his day — Ahab, the most influential man in the land, and Jezebel, arguably the most notorious woman who ever lived. He was on the inside. He had a title, a position, a household to manage. During a famine that killed the cattle and turned the fields to dust, Obadiah still had bread. He still had water. He still had his life.

No one would have blamed him for stopping right there. No one would have thought less of him for simply thanking God for his safety and the security of his family and keeping his head down until the drought passed. There was a famine. People were dying of hunger and disease. Playing it safe would have looked not just reasonable but wise.

Instead, Obadiah took one hundred prophets of the Lord — the very men Jezebel was hunting down and slaughtering — hid them fifty to a cave, and fed them with bread and water.

Bread and water, when food was scarce and every loaf was precious. Bread and water, when the rains had failed for three years and no one knew when, or if, they would return. Do you think it never crossed his mind that there might not be enough left for his own family? Do you think he never lay awake calculating what would happen to him — to his wife, his children, his whole house — if Ahab or Jezebel discovered that their trusted servant was hiding the prophets they were trying to destroy?

He did the dangerous thing anyway. He stepped out of the safest position a man could have and put his life on the line — for ministry, for the people of God, for the truth.

We still tell his story. Not because he built a brand, but because he refused to let comfort be the last word. He gave sacrificially. He lived out what Jesus would later teach in Matthew 6 — doing his righteousness quietly, not to be seen by men, hiding a hundred lives in the dark where only God could see.

And here is what I want you to know: Obadiah is not only a figure from the past. He is alive today. We have met him.

We have the privilege of ministering to refugees across the Middle East — men and women who have lost their homes, their countries, and in many cases their families, and who have every earthly reason to keep their heads down and simply survive. No one would blame them for it. They live under the shadow of the very forces the prophets once feared. Yet like Obadiah, they refuse to let comfort — or even mere survival — be the last word.

They open their homes when it is dangerous to open the door. They carry Bibles that could cost them everything. They gather believers in quiet rooms, feed the hungry out of their own scarcity, and whisper the name of Jesus in places where that name is hunted. They hide the persecuted the way Obadiah hid the prophets, fifty to a cave, sharing bread and water they can barely spare. They will never appear on anyone’s honor roll. There is no LinkedIn headline for what they do. But heaven knows their names, and history — God’s history — is being written through them right now.

When we sit with them, we are not the strong ones bringing help to the weak. We are sitting with Obadiah. We come away asking not “how can we make them bold?” but “God, make us bold like them.”

So here is the question underneath the question. Who are you on LinkedIn? And more importantly — who are you when no one is watching, when the safe move is available and the costly one is calling your name?

You may not have a title in a palace. You may not have influence or a following. But you have a cave you could fill. You have bread you could share. You have a moment — this week, maybe today — where playing it safe is the reasonable choice and stepping out is the faithful one.

My prayer for myself and for you is simple. That we would stop measuring our lives by profile views and start measuring them by faithfulness. That we would be bold — proactive in ministry even when it costs us, even when it is uncomfortable, even when no one will ever see. That we would be sensitive to the Spirit of God, quick to discern His leading, and obedient to His prompting.

And I ask you to pray with us for our brothers and sisters — the refugees serving Jesus across the Middle East — who are living this out at the risk of their lives. Pray for their protection, their provision, and their courage. Pray that their bread and water would multiply. And ask God whether the cave He is calling you to fill might be nearer than you think.

The world is watching your profile. God is watching your obedience.

Be like Obadiah.