And he said to Gehazi his servant, Call this Shunammite. And he called her, and she stood before him.
Elisha has been passing through Shunem for a while, and a wealthy woman there has built him a room on her roof. Now he rests in it and sends his servant Gehazi to call her — why does a guest summon his hostess, and what does her standing before him mean?
The call is not business. It is an answer to something she had been doing for a long while without asking anything back.
So one day while he was there, he thought of a return of love for the love shown to him.
Then the verse notes where she stands. The position itself says something.
Elisha calls the Shunammite; he has something to give her. "She stood before him," as he himself stood before the Lord. There is beautiful harmony in the matching positions of this man of God and this woman of faith. He wishes to reward her care for him, but first he tests her to see whether their two hearts are beating together.
Elisha is summoning her from inside the very room she furnished. She had money enough to make it grand. She chose not to.
She hosts him according to the needs and tastes of her guest. She has no thought of raising herself in his eyes by putting her wealth on display. In the "little chamber" there was nothing to feed the lust of the eye, the lust of the flesh and the pride of life. But there was everything needed to meet the need of a heavenly stranger.
How did she read a stranger's needs so exactly? One writer finds the answer in what she herself was.
She knew him because she was like him. One spirit was in them both. She understood his pilgrim thoughts and habits, simply because she lived by them herself. And this is the only real, God-given way to know either the children of God or God Himself. It comes through the union and mind of the same spirit.
The verse never gives her name. She is simply "this Shunammite" — a woman known by her town. One writer sets that obscurity beside the greatness of the man she welcomed.
She could receive a prophet in the name of a prophet, according to the tastes of a prophet. And the great prophet of that day was God's witness in the land. He was the vessel that held the fullest divine treasure of the time. In the name of the Lord it shed its blessing wherever the might of the Spirit carried it. And he is of one mind with this unknown and distant daughter of Abraham in the borders of Issachar.
Gehazi is named here for the first time in the story. He carries the message and sees all that follows. His own story ends very differently from hers.
He had seen Elisha's miracles, even the raising of the dead. Yet he was tempted to deceive him and to gain a present from Naaman by fraud. As a result he was struck with leprosy... Gehazi is a striking example of how slow man is to grasp the goodness and power of God, even when they are shown clearly before his eyes, until judgement falls on him.
This scene sits inside a nation already under God's judgement. That is what makes one household stand out.
Besides the sons of the prophets, there was a testimony of individual faith among this people who were already judged and, in fact, rejected. The Shunammite woman is an example of this. This woman was rich, unlike the widow of one of the sons of the prophets, who had nothing at all. But she was a woman of faith, and her whole story proves it.
- Kindness first. She gave before anyone asked. The call in this verse is Elisha thinking of "a return of love for the love shown to him."
- Kindness fitted. The little chamber met the need of a heavenly stranger and put no wealth on display. She gave what suited her guest, not what suited her income.
- Kindness born of likeness. "She knew him because she was like him." The same spirit in her read his pilgrim habits. That shared spirit is the only way to know God's people, or God Himself.
- Kindness rewarded. She received a prophet as a prophet, so now the prophet calls her to stand before him. The giver becomes the receiver.
- Kindness missed. Gehazi carries the call and sees the miracles. Yet he grasps at a present and is struck with leprosy. Being near the man of God is not the same as trusting the God he serves.
And he said to him, Say now to her, Behold, thou hast been careful for us with all this care; what is to be done for thee? wouldest thou be spoken for to the king, or to the captain of the host? And she said, I dwell among mine own people.
The woman of Shunem gave the prophet Elisha a room in her house, and now he wants to repay her. Her refusal of his offer turns a small scene at home into a question: where does a believing heart find its portion?
Elisha has received kindness in that room. Now he looks for a way to give something back.
So one day when he was there, he thought of returning love for the love she had shown him. He called the Shunammite, and when she stood before him he said, "See, you have taken all this trouble for us; what is to be done for you? Would you have a word spoken on your behalf to the king or to the commander of the army?" We can hardly imagine such a question from Elijah. It suited Elisha exactly.
Elisha's question had a purpose beyond generosity.
He wishes to reward her care for him. But first he tests her, to see whether their two hearts are beating together. "Would you have a word spoken on your behalf to the king or to the commander of the army?" Does she want to increase what she owns in the world? She refuses. We shall see later that these things were added to her at a time of need, when they were no longer a snare to her.
Her answer has to be measured against what she was turning down.
He has just been the means of saving kings, captains, and their armies from an overwhelming disaster. No doubt at that moment he could have obtained favours from high places. Would this great woman like Elisha to speak to the king, or the commander of the army, on her behalf? Her answer is very beautiful... She is satisfied to stay outside the high circles of a corrupt world. She has no desire for its honours and favours.
Turning down an advantage you could have taken says something to everyone watching.
The Shunammite wants nothing that the king or the commander of the army can give. "I dwell among my own people," was the reply of her contented spirit. Can we testify to the world of its emptiness, and of the hollowness of all its offers, in any stronger way? If anything reaches the conscience of a worldly person, it is this. A child of God is so sure of his portion in his Father's love that he turns down a portion here within his reach.
Her answer names a people rather than a prize. One writer turns the same question on us.
Worldly honours had no attraction for her. She loved the simplicity of the place that was properly her own. How would we have answered a similar question? What is the world to us — anything or nothing?... Sometimes we make the mistake of seeing God's people as they are naturally, instead of seeing them in the light of the infinite grace of God. What they are to Christ should make them dearer to our hearts than anything else. So should the knowledge that He is present among them.
Another writer weighs what she saw in a nation that was already facing God's judgment.
Judgment is already hanging over this nation. Even so, she recognized it as her people, and she does not separate herself from it. She sees in it what God alone can distinguish, what faith alone can grasp. As long as God still recognizes something in it for Himself, this people is His people. She has no other desire than to be part of it.
She turned down what the palace could offer. Elisha had a better court to draw on.
Elisha, however, has other resources to draw on than the kings and captains of this world. He is in touch with higher powers and heavenly courts. He can draw on the mighty power of God, "who gives life to the dead." The woman will not refuse blessing from this heavenly source. Yet at the moment, what Elisha proposes seems almost beyond her faith.
- Kindness answered. Elisha's question is love returning love: she had cared for him, and he looks for a way to repay her.
- Kindness tested. The offer of access to the king exposes what she wants. She turns down the world's ladder while it stands in front of her.
- Contentment chosen. Her answer is the reply of a contented spirit, satisfied to stay outside the high circles of a corrupt world.
- A people owned. She claims a nation already under judgment as her own. She sees in it what God still sees, and believers face the same choice about the company they belong to.
- A better gift. What she refused from the king's court she received from a higher one. God, who gives life to the dead, gave her a son — and worldly help came later, when it could no longer be a snare.
And he said, What then is to be done for her? And Gehazi said, Verily, she has no son, and her husband is old.
A woman of Shunem has shown Elisha quiet, steady kindness, and when he offers to repay her she wants nothing. So he turns to his servant Gehazi with a question — what do you give someone who asks for nothing? — and Gehazi names the one gap in her life that she never mentioned herself.
Elisha's first offer had been influence: a word to the king, or to the commander of the army. She turned it down. So the search for a gift moved to other ground, and Gehazi named something no royal favour could supply.
The Shunammite woman showed that she was not interested in material rewards. So Elisha asked Gehazi, "What then is to be done for her?" Gehazi knew that in Israel it was a disgrace for a couple to have no children. He told Elisha that she had no son and her husband was old (v.14). This situation needed more than the backing of the king or the commander of the army. It needed God to step in, and Elisha had the simple confidence that God would indeed intervene.
She had not raised the subject. Someone else had to say it out loud on her behalf — and what he described was not a complaint but an emptiness she carried in silence.
The Shunammite's heart holds a secret desire, a great desire. It was so high and so far out of reach that she had never told anyone. But the prophet's servant could see that she lacked something, and without it her happiness would always stay incomplete. "She has no son, and her husband is old." ... For their faithful hearts this was the greatest trial possible. Their holy ambition was not just to have children. It was to be brought, through childbearing, into a direct or indirect link with the person or family line of the Messiah. To these women a son was the greatest good of all. The Shunammite did not put this need into words herself. She accepted the circumstances God's providence had placed her in. Only the emptiness was there, felt deep in her heart.
Gehazi's two facts — no son, an aged husband — close off every natural road. At that point the prophet draws on a supply beyond the reach of any throne.
Elisha, however, has other resources to draw upon than the kings and captains of this world. He is in touch with higher powers and heavenly courts. He can draw on the mighty power of God "who gives life to the dead." The woman will not refuse a blessing from this heavenly source, though at the moment what Elisha proposes seems almost beyond her faith. In time, though, she learns what Abraham's wife had learned long before, and what the wife of Zechariah would learn long after: that God can give life to the dead, and that He is able to do what He has promised.
The words Elisha then speaks over her repeat what was once said about Sarah.
He speaks the same words to her that the angel of the Lord had once announced about Sarah: "At this season, about this time next year, you shall embrace a son." (cf. Gen. 18:10) Ah! This child too is a promised son, of the same line as Isaac, who himself was a picture of the true seed, of Christ!
Some commentators read this small household scene as a picture of the nation itself: an old line with no heir.
Israel at this time was like the Shunammite. Her husband was old, and there was no child to carry on their name. The nation was growing old and ready to pass away, and there was no heir to carry it into new life and hopes. Gehazi, who I think stands for Israel in its natural state, sees this and tells the prophet how things stand. Elisha promises a son, and a son is born.
No one here asked for anything. That sets this story apart from the case just before it, where a woman in debt came to the prophet for help.
The blessing brought into the Shunammite's household was completely unsought. It was welcome, of course, but it stands in striking contrast to the case just before it, the woman and her creditor. It is well when trouble leads us to God as the only resource in difficulty and trial. He does encourage us to make Him our refuge and resource at such times. "Call upon Me in the day of trouble; I will deliver you, and you shall glorify Me."
- Asked — she turned down the offer of influence, and Elisha still looked for something to give: "What then is to be done for her?"
- Named — she never voiced her lack, so another named it for her. She had accepted her circumstances, but the emptiness was real.
- Impossible — no son and an old husband put the case past any king or commander; it needed God, who gives life to the dead.
- Promised — Elisha's words to her repeat what was once said about Sarah, tying her son to the promised line.
- Unsought — no one asked for this gift, which sets it in contrast with the woman in debt who had to cry for help.
And he said, Call her; and he called her; and she stood in the doorway.
Gehazi, Elisha's servant, has just told him that the woman of Shunem has no child and her husband is old. Elisha answers in two words: call her. She comes, stands at the door, and hears a promise she never asked for.
The prophet calls for her three times in this chapter. This is the middle call, and each one has its own purpose.
"Call her" — How this new call must have stirred the Shunammite! The first time (v. 12) the prophet called her to test the precious faith she had. The second time (v. 15) he called her to give her the child of promise, an object for her heart. The third time — what would he give her when mourning was filling her soul? Ah! She does not doubt; he would give her her son again, now in a completely new character: her son raised from the dead.
She does not step inside. One writer notes that detail, and that Elisha keeps his servant between himself and her — a distance her later grief will break through.
It was not the pressure of circumstances but the greatness of his person that made her cry out. She saw more in Elisha than even abundant grace. Still she had to reach further through sorrow! Elisha kept Gehazi between himself and her (2 Kings 4:11-17). She only stood in the door! The servant's power could not keep this woman in bitter grief from reaching the prophet's feet. The servant's weakness showed plainly when he tried to raise the dead!
Gehazi named the lack, not her. One writer hears a real ache in that silence — a longing that reached far beyond family happiness.
The Shunammite's heart holds a secret desire, a great desire — so high, so far out of reach that she has never told anyone. But the prophet's servant could see that she lacked something, and without it her happiness would always stay incomplete. "She has no son, and her husband is old." ... Their holy ambition was not just to have descendants. They longed that by bearing a child they would be linked, directly or indirectly, to the person or the family line of the Messiah. To these women a son was the supreme good. The Shunammite never spoke this need herself. She accepted the place God's providence had given her. Only the emptiness was there, felt deep in her heart.
The promise comes at the very point where she had laid the wish down.
Elisha had the Shunammite woman called again. He told her that about this same time next year she would hold a son in her arms (v.16). This was far more than the woman could have imagined, and she protested that his words seemed false. No doubt she had deeply desired a son, but had come to the point of being content without him. Is it not often true that when we learn to be content without something we have longed for, the Lord then lets us have it? So the spirit of being content with what God gives will bear unexpected fruit.
Earlier Elisha had offered to speak for her to the king or the army commander. She refused, so he turns to another source.
Elisha, however, has other resources to draw upon than the kings and captains of this world. He is in touch with higher powers and heavenly courts. He can draw on the mighty power of God "who gives life to the dead." The woman will not refuse blessing from this heavenly source, though at the moment what Elisha proposes seems almost beyond her faith. However, in due time she learns what Abraham's wife learned in a day that was past, and what the wife of Zacharias would learn in a day yet to come. God can give life to the dead. What He has promised He is able to do.
Elisha promises her a child, not a favour. One writer draws out the lesson: what satisfies the heart is a person to hold.
Even every spiritual blessing cannot satisfy us if we have not found an object for our hearts in personally having Christ Himself. To have Him, to know Him, to love Him, to hold Him in our arms like Simeon, to lean on His chest like the disciple He loved, to sit at His feet like Mary — all this and much more is the priceless happiness of those who belong to Him. The Lord gives this woman a son through Elisha. In the same way the Holy Spirit brings us Jesus through the Word and makes Him live in us — Christ, the hope of glory.
- Called — this is the second of three calls. The first tested her faith, this one gives the promised son, the third gives him back from the dead.
- Content — she asked for nothing from king or commander. The gift came to a heart that had learned to live without it.
- Concealed — the servant spoke her need, not her. She carried the longing in silence, tied to the hope of the Messiah's line.
- Capable — the promise rests not on friends in high places but on the God who gives life to the dead, as He did for Abraham's wife and the wife of Zacharias.
- Christ — the gift was a person to hold, a picture of the satisfaction found in having Christ Himself.
And he said, At this appointed time, when thy term is come, thou shalt embrace a son. And she said, No, my lord, man of God, do not lie to thy handmaid.
Elisha calls back a woman who has just refused his offer to speak for her to the king, and he promises her a son within a year. Her reply sounds more like fear than thanks — so why does this promise frighten her, and where does a poor prophet find such a gift?
Elisha had offered to speak for her to the king or the army commander, and she wanted neither. One writer notes that the prophet had nothing of his own to give, yet he was not out of resources.
If the prophet of Abel-Meholah, like an apostle of later days, has no silver and gold, and if the Shunammite does not care for what Elisha's temporary favour with the king might have gained her, he has influence at another court, and she does not refuse what the prophet promises on behalf of that "God who gives life to the dead and calls into existence the things that do not exist." She is childless, and her husband is old; but the prophet assures her that at the set time she will embrace a son.
A king could have arranged the favour she declined. No king could arrange what Elisha offers instead, and at first it is more than her faith can hold.
Elisha, however, has other resources to draw on than the kings and captains of this world. He is in touch with higher powers and heavenly courts. He can draw on the mighty power of God, "who gives life to the dead." The woman will not refuse blessing from this heavenly source, though at the moment what Elisha proposes seems almost beyond her faith. In due time she learns what Abraham's wife had learned long before her, and what Zechariah's wife would learn long after. God can give life to the dead. What He has promised He is able to perform.
She had asked for nothing. Elisha's servant named the one gap in her life: she had no son, and her husband was old. One writer explains why she never said it herself.
The Shunammite's heart nurtures a secret desire, a great desire. The desire was so high, so far out of reach, that she had never told anyone. But the prophet's servant could see that she lacked something, and without it her happiness would always stay incomplete. "She has no son, and her husband is old."... For their faithful hearts this was the greatest trial possible. Their holy ambition was not just to have children. They longed that through childbearing they might be linked, directly or indirectly, to the Messiah Himself or to His line. To these women a son was the supreme good. The Shunammite never spoke of this need. She accepted the place where God's providence had put her. Only the emptiness was there, felt deep in her heart.
The promise is not new wording. Elisha repeats what an angel once said to Sarah, who was also old and childless. Commentators differ on her reply; this writer hears joy in it rather than doubt.
The angel of the LORD had once announced the same thing about Sarah. Elisha now speaks those very words to her: "At this season, about this time next year, you shall embrace a son." (compare Gen. 18:10) Ah! This child is also a promised son, of the same lineage as Isaac, who himself was a type of the true seed, of Christ! How her heart thrilled at this word! "No, my lord, O man of God; do not lie to your servant." It is true then! Her joy is complete. She has found in this gift the satisfaction of all her desires.
Commentators differ on how far to press the picture. Another writer denies that the child himself pictures the promised Messiah. Yet he still sees in the boy's birth, death and restoration, and in the mother's later loss and recovery of her land, a chain "suggestive of Israel's future restoration to their inheritance" (The Bible Treasury).
H. L. Rossier draws the promise forward to us. A person, not a benefit, is what fills an empty heart.
It is the same for us Christians. No amount of spiritual blessing can satisfy us if we have not found our object in Christ Himself, personally ours... Through Elisha the Lord grants a son to this woman. In the same way the Holy Spirit, through the Word, brings us Jesus and makes Him live in us — Christ, the hope of glory.
God keeps the promise. One writer points to a harder lesson still waiting for her.
There is, however, another and deeper lesson she has to learn. Experience will teach her, hard as that is for the flesh, that the life-giving God is also the God of resurrection. Did not Abraham have to learn this lesson on Mount Moriah? And do we not have to learn it too? God not only gives life. He is also the God of resurrection, who can give life back after death has shown its power.
- Refused — She turned down the king's help, so the gift came from a higher court. Elisha's resource was not kings and captains, but the God who gives life to the dead.
- Unspoken — She never named her lack. Elisha's servant named it for her, and the emptiness she had quietly accepted was the very thing God filled.
- Promised — The words are the words once spoken about Sarah, so the son arrives as a promised son, not a lucky birth.
- Personal — No blessing satisfies without an object. The son given through Elisha answers to Christ, made ours by the Spirit through the Word.
- Raised — She must still learn that the God who gives life is also the God who gives it back.
And the woman conceived, and bore a son at that appointed time in the next year as Elisha had said to her.
The promise Elisha made to a childless woman at Shunem now comes true, on the exact schedule he had named. Commentators ask two questions here: why did God give what she never asked for, and what was He preparing her to learn through the gift?
The Shunammite's heart holds a secret desire, a great desire. It was so high and so far out of reach that she had never told anyone... The Shunammite did not speak of this need herself. She accepted the circumstances God's providence had placed her in. Only the emptiness was there, felt deep in her heart.
Earlier in the chapter, a woman in debt came to Elisha for help. Here no one asks for anything.
The blessing brought into the Shunammite's household was completely unsought. It was welcome indeed, but in sharp contrast to the earlier case of the woman and the creditor. It is well when trouble leads us to God as the only resource in difficulty and trial.
Her answer to Elisha carries a wider lesson.
This was far more than the woman could have imagined, and she protested that his words seemed false. No doubt she had longed for a son, but she had come to the point of being content without him. Is it not often true that we learn to be content without something we have longed for, and then the Lord allows us to have it?
Commentators differ on how to read her reply to Elisha. Grant hears a protest of disbelief; another reads the same words as a heart almost afraid to accept its own joy.
He speaks the same words to her that the angel of the Lord had in former days announced as to Sarah: "At this appointed time, thy term is come, thou shalt embrace a son." ... How her heart thrilled at this word! "No, my lord, man of God, do not lie to thy handmaid." It is true then! Her joy is complete.
This gift was beyond the reach of any king or army commander.
Elisha, however, has other resources to draw on than the kings and captains of this world... He can draw on the mighty power of God who gives life to the dead... In time, though, she learns what Abraham's wife had learned long before, and what the wife of Zacharias would learn long after. She learns that God can give life to the dead, and that what He has promised He is able to perform.
Nothing about her situation pointed to a child. A promise did.
She is childless, and her husband is old. But the prophet assures her that at the set time she will hold a son in her arms. God keeps the promise He has given. A child comes straight from His hand, and crowns the faith that had already produced such lovely fruit.
The birth is not the end of her lessons. A harder one is still ahead.
Through an experience that is very hard on the flesh, she will discover that the God who gives life is also the God of resurrection. Did not Abraham have to learn this lesson on Mount Moriah? And do we not also have to learn it? God is not only the One who gives life. He is also the God of resurrection, who can give life back when death has shown its power.
This gift has a meaning that reaches beyond her house.
All spiritual blessing cannot satisfy us if we have not found our object in possessing Christ Himself... Through Elisha, the Lord grants a son to this woman. In the same way, the Holy Spirit through the Word brings us Jesus and makes Him live in us — Christ, the hope of glory.
- Emptiness — she never asked. The desire stayed hidden, and God read the heart she opened to no one.
- Unsought — the woman before her came in trouble and debt. This blessing came with no asking at all.
- Contentment — she had learned to live without a son, and the gift landed in a heart no longer demanding it.
- Life — the son came from the God who gives life to the dead, the God that Abraham's wife also learned to trust.
- Resurrection — the gift was the first lesson; the second, harder one was that God can also give life back.
And the child grew, and it came to pass one day, that he went out to his father to the reapers.
The woman of Shunem had received her son as a gift from God, and he is now old enough to go out to his father among the reapers. Within a few verses he will die on her knees, and the chapter asks what faith does when God takes back His own gift.
Commentators see his going out to the reapers as the start of a second lesson, deeper than the first.
There is, however, another and a deeper lesson she has to learn. Through an experience that was hard on the flesh, she will discover that the life-giving God is also the God of resurrection. Did not Abraham have to learn this lesson on Mount Moriah? And do we not also have to learn it? God is not only the Quickener who gives life. He is also the God of resurrection, who can give back life when death has shown its power. To learn this lesson, Abraham, in his day, had to bind Isaac to the altar on Mount Moriah, and the woman must face the death of her beloved child.
Scripture says only that the child had grown. One writer fills in how much time had passed and what likely struck him down.
It would be four or five years later perhaps that the boy went into a field to his father, where harvest was in progress. Likely it was a hot day and the boy complained of pain in his head, which may have been from sunstroke. His father knew he needed his mother, and had a servant carry him to her (v.19). She held him in her arms briefly, then he died.
The time of year and the time of day matter here.
There is here a striking commentary on how quickly the choicest things in this life pass. The child had grown, it was harvest time and noon when he died on his mother's knees. The blow fell when the promise of that young life was brightest. It fell in the fullness of the year, when the earth gave up her wealth to the sickle, and at the height of the day. The mother's arms and the mother's love could not protect her child from it.
Some read the loss as God's schooling. Faith received the child; now faith must give him back.
We are set down to learn an important and instructive lesson: man cannot keep the blessing God gives. Faith may have been at work in the gift and in receiving it. Even so, we still need to learn how necessary it is to have to do with God alone and to go on with Him alone, even when we give up His own gifts. For if we are unable to do this, the blessing itself may become a snare… God must be more to us than all the blessings He has bestowed.
Instead of keeping the body, she laid it upstairs in the prophet's room — the room she had built for him.
The man of God is this woman's only resource. She lays the child there where the bearer of the Word had lain. She had received the child from him; now, in death, she entrusted the child to him. It is an act of faith.
Her husband was told nothing of the death — only that she needed a donkey and a servant.
It may seem strange that she said nothing to her husband about their son's death, but in this case it was the man of God she needed, not her husband. There are some things we may not feel free to share with the closest relative, but must take them only to the Lord Jesus.
Grief asks what is left to do. Faith, one writer says, asks something else.
"But her son is dead." What then? It was from God, who gives life to the dead, that she had received her son. "But what can she do?" No — that is not the question. What can, or rather, what can God not do? That is faith's question; and so there is no case too extreme for faith, because there is none too extreme for God.
Her husband saw no reason to go to a prophet on a day that was neither new moon nor sabbath.
If he thinks of the man of God, it is only in connection with new moons and sabbaths. Like many others today, he links God only with a religious festival or the outward keeping of a day. The links that faith has with God are matters of life and death. Faith may not be able to argue with unbelief. It may not answer the questions raised by mere reason. But faith can say in the darkest moment, "It is well."
- Given. The son was God's own gift, received from His hand and never earned.
- Grown. The testing starts the day he is old enough to walk out to the reapers. The blow falls at the brightest hour.
- Gone. A mother's arms and a mother's love could not hold back death — and the loss shows whether God Himself, or His gift, is our real treasure.
- Given back. She laid the child on the prophet's bed and went to the man of God: faith hands the gift back to its source.
- Given again. Faith stops asking "what can I do?" and asks "what can God not do?" — and can say over a dead child, "It is well."
And he said to his father, My head, my head! And he said to the servant, Carry him to his mother.
A boy born by promise goes out to the harvest field, cries out that his head hurts, and comes home to his mother. The verse raises the hardest question faith meets: what does it mean when God takes back the gift He gave?
This child was no ordinary blessing. He was God's own gift, and that is what made his loss cut so deep.
Yet in this world, even the mercies and the gifts of God are not without deep trial. So it was with the Shunammite's son. The more he was loved and valued as the gift of God, above all by his mother, the more sorrow was her portion. He fell sick, came home to his mother and died.
One writer reads the sudden headache as sunstroke:
It would be four or five years later perhaps that the boy went into a field to his father, where harvest was in progress. Likely it was a hot day and the boy complained of pain in his head, which may have been from sunstroke. His father knew he needed his mother, and had a servant carry him to her. She held him in her arms briefly, then he died.
The same writer draws a lesson about both parents:
Yet she was not just a possessive mother, and she was not afraid for her son's safety. She let him go out to his father at harvest time. When he complained about his head, his father knew where to send him. In times of trouble, how good for a child to have a loving mother!
One writer pauses on the hour and the season:
There is here a striking commentary on how quickly the choicest things in this life pass away. The child had grown, it was harvest time and noon when he died on his mother's knees. The blow fell when the promise of that young life was brightest. It fell in the fullness of the year, when the earth was giving up its wealth to the sickle, and at the height of the day. The mother's arms, the mother's love, could not protect her child from it. Death struck him, and in striking him it struck her and broke her heart.
Faith received the child. Now faith has a harder lesson:
This is an important lesson we are put here to learn: man cannot keep the blessing God gives. Faith may have been at work when the gift was received. Even so, we still need to learn how necessary it is to have to do with God alone, and to go on with Him alone, even when we must give up His own gifts. For if we are unable to do this, the blessing itself may become a snare… God must be more to us than all the blessings He has given.
There is a deeper lesson still, and it is about God Himself:
Through experience, trying indeed to the flesh, she will discover that the life-giving God is also the God of resurrection. Did Abraham not have to learn this lesson on Mount Moriah? And do we not also have to learn this? God is not only the One who gives life. He is also the God of resurrection, who can give life back when death has shown its power. To learn this lesson Abraham, in his day, had to bind Isaac to the altar on Mount Moriah. The woman must face the death of her beloved child.
Her son is dead on her lap. Everything now turns on the question she asks:
It is not that she questions His right to take back what His mercy had given. But her faith gathers from the past what God meant and purposed in dealing with her as He had done, and she is not without hope even now. "But what can she do?" No, that is not the question. What can, or rather what cannot, God do? That is faith's question; and so there is no case too extreme for faith, because there is none too extreme for God. Faith knows and trusts. "With God all things are possible."
- Given — The son was God's own gift, and the more he was valued as that gift, the deeper the sorrow when God took him back.
- Struck — At harvest and at noon, when that young life looked brightest, the blow fell, and a mother's love could not shield him.
- Surrendered — We cannot keep what God gives. A gift we refuse to surrender can become a snare, because God must be more to us than all He gives.
- Raised — The God who gives life is also the God of resurrection, who can give life back after death has shown its power.
- Asked — Faith does not ask "what can I do?" but "what cannot God do?" No case is too extreme for faith, because none is too extreme for God.
And he carried him, and brought him to his mother; and he sat on her knees till noon, and died.
The son God had given dies on his mother's lap at midday. The verse raises the hardest question faith can face: what does it mean when God takes back the very thing He gave?
The boy had been out with his father and the reapers when he cried out about his head. One writer pieces the day together.
It would be four or five years later perhaps that the boy went into a field to his father, where harvest was in progress. Likely it was a hot day and the boy complained of pain in his head, which may have been from sunstroke. His father knew he needed his mother, and had a servant carry him to her. She held him in her arms briefly, then he died.
This child was no ordinary child. He was God's own gift, and that is why his loss cut so deep.
Yet in this world, even God's mercies and gifts come with deep trial. So it was with the Shunammite's son. The more he was loved and valued as the gift of God, above all by his mother, the more sorrow fell to her. He fell sick, came home to his mother, and died.
Look at how she carried the loss.
Tenderly she held him on her knees until he died. But let us observe that her love for him was not so uncontrolled that she broke down. Without doubt deeply feeling this unexpected sorrow, she laid the boy on Elisha's bed and went out. Only faith in the living God could uphold her at such a time.
She did not look for a new source of help.
The one God used to give life is the one she turns to when death comes.
One writer draws the lesson of the whole story.
It is an important and instructive lesson we are set down to learn: man cannot keep the blessing God gives. Faith may have been at work in the gift and in receiving it. Even so, we still have to learn one thing. We must deal with God and go on with Him alone, even when we give up His own gifts. If we cannot do this, the blessing itself may become a snare... God must be more to us than all the blessings He has given.
One writer notices something surprising about the prophet Elisha.
It was remarkable that God did not even let His servant Elisha know what He was doing. Man could not help her. She had to come to God and deal with Him alone. Death had raised questions that God alone could answer.
One writer puts the bitter question first, then answers it.
Was it for this that God made Himself known as the One who gives life to the dead? Did He cause the barren woman to bear a son, only for the boy to be suddenly torn away once he was born? No, she has better thoughts of God than this. She does not question His right to take back what His mercy had given. But her faith gathers from the past what God meant and intended in all His dealings with her. Even now she is not without hope. "But her son is dead." What then? She had received her son from God, who gives life to the dead. "But what can she do?" No, that is not the question. What can God do — or rather, what can God not do? That is faith's question. So there is no case too extreme for faith, because there is none too extreme for God.
The death is not a reversal of the earlier miracle. It is the second half of one lesson.
Through an experience that is hard on the flesh, she will discover that the life-giving God is also the God of resurrection. Did not Abraham have to learn this lesson on Mount Moriah? And do we not also have to learn that God is not only the One who gives life? He is also the God of resurrection, who can give back life when death has shown its power.
- Gift. The child was God's own gift, and that is what made his death so bitter. Even God's mercies come with deep trial.
- Grief. She held him until he died and did not break down. Her love was deep but not out of control.
- Grip. No one can keep the blessing God gives. A gift held tighter than the Giver can become a snare.
- Question. Faith does not ask what she can do, but what God cannot do — and finds no case too extreme.
- God. The One who gave life is also the God of resurrection, able to give life back after death has shown its power.
And she went up, and laid him on the bed of the man of God, and shut [the door] upon him, and went out.
The son she had received through the prophet has just died. She does not cry out. She carries him upstairs to the room she had built for Elisha. The verse turns on two quiet actions: where she puts the body, and the door she shuts.
The bed was not her own. She had built that room and furnished it for Elisha.
The man of God is this woman's only resource. She lays the child there where the bearer of the Word had lain. She had received the child from him; dead, she confided the child to him. It is an act of faith.
She controls every movement here, and she tells no one in the house what has happened.
This severe trial brings out the faith of the Shunammite in a beautiful way. In perfect calmness she lays the dead child on the bed of the man of God. She shuts the door on him and goes out. She says not a word to her husband about what has happened. She simply asks him for a young man and one of the donkeys, so she can go to the man of God. The One who was the instrument to give life is the One to whom she turns in the presence of death.
The same facts crush one person and drive another to God.
Someone once wrote to me: "Faith rejoices in a dead life." And so it is. Where there is no faith, such circumstances produce complete despair. To faith, they are simply an opportunity to trust God alone and completely.
Laying the body on that bed had a second meaning: she was handing over a weight she could not carry. It also explains why she tells her husband nothing.
In laying her son's body on the bed of Elisha (v.21) she was in effect entrusting her sorrow to Elisha. We are told to do the same: "Cast your burden on the LORD, and He will sustain you" (Ps.55:22). She knew she herself could do nothing for her son now... It may seem strange that she said nothing to her husband about their son's death. But in this case it was the man of God she needed, not her husband. There are some things we may not feel free to share with the closest relative, but must take only to the Lord Jesus.
This is not the only shut door in the chapter, and the repetition tells us what kind of scene this is.
It is a private scene, and the nation that had turned away from God is in no way called to take part. Three times in this chapter (vv. 4, 21, 33) the door is shut. These scenes have nothing to do with a public testimony such as that of the great prophet who came before Elisha.
Why did God take the gift back? One answer is that no one can hold on to a blessing God gives.
It is an important and instructive lesson we have to learn: man cannot keep the blessing God gives. Faith may have been at work in the gift and in receiving it. Even so, we still need to learn how necessary it is to deal with God alone, and to go on with Him, even when we give up His own gifts. For if we cannot do this, the blessing itself may become a snare... God must be more to us than all the blessings He has bestowed.
She knew God as the one who gives life; now she must learn something further.
Through an experience that is truly hard on human nature, she will discover that the God who gives life is also the God of resurrection... And do we not also have to learn this? God is not only the One who gives life; He is also the God of resurrection, who can give life back when death has shown its power. To learn this lesson, Abraham had to bind Isaac to the altar on Mount Moriah. The woman must face the death of her beloved child.
- Given — the son came to her through the prophet, and no one can hold on to a blessing God gives.
- Returned — she gives the boy back to the one she received him from, laying him on the prophet's bed.
- Silent — she tells her husband nothing. Some things go only to the Lord, not to the closest relative.
- Shut — the closed door here, as in verses 4 and 33, marks a private dealing with God rather than a public display.
- Raised — the trial teaches what the gift alone could not. The God who gives life also gives it back after death.
And she called to her husband, and said, Send me, I pray thee, one of the young men, and one of the asses, and I will run to the man of God, and come again.
The Shunammite's son has died. She lays him on the prophet's bed, shuts the door, and calls her husband for a servant and a donkey. She says nothing to him about the death, and she plans on coming back. Commentators read both as the shape of her faith.
The child was God's own gift, given through the man of God. That made his death all the sharper, and one writer places her journey inside that pain:
Yet in this world, even the mercies and the gifts of God are not without deep trial. So it was with the Shunammite's son. The more he was loved and valued as the gift of God, especially by his mother, the more sorrow was her portion. He fell sick, came home to his mother and died… Her husband, who had little idea what was the matter, wonders at it, but he gives way. She sets out and comes in full haste to Mount Carmel.
She could have turned anywhere for help. She asks for a donkey and a servant to take her to Elisha, and one writer traces that choice back to the way the boy first came to her:
This severe trial very beautifully brings out the faith of the Shunammite. In perfect calmness she lays the dead child on the bed of the man of God, shuts the door on him and goes out. She says no word to her husband about what has happened. She simply asks him for a young man and one of the donkeys, so that she can go to the man of God. The one who was the instrument to give life is the one to whom she turns in the presence of death.
She asks to go and to come back. One writer finds in that hope the reason death could not shake her:
The Shunammite calls her husband, asking him for a donkey and a servant. What anguish filled her poor heart! But she shows the same faith that had marked her in receiving the prophet and then in laying hold of the hope set before her. Death had come in and had seemed to overthrow everything. Yet her faith and hope stay the same in the middle of what seemed to destroy them… The same hope sustains her that sustained the man whose faith reckoned that God was able to raise up Isaac from among the dead. God, who had given her this child and who had taken him back through death, could restore him in resurrection.
The most striking thing in her words is what is missing from them. One writer reads the bed upstairs and her silence together:
In laying her son's body on the bed of Elisha (v.21) she was in effect committing her sorrow to Elisha, just as we are told to "Cast your burden on the LORD, and he will sustain you" (Ps. 55:22). She knew she herself could do nothing for her son now. But she was determined to get to the man of God as soon as possible… It may seem strange that she said nothing to her husband about their son's death, but in this case it was the man of God she needed, not her husband. There are some things we may not feel free to share with the closest relative, but must take only to the Lord Jesus.
Her plan has urgency in it: she will go at once. One writer, quoting an older translation that reads "I will run," treats that speed as a safeguard against sorrow that turns inward:
Her sorrow did not rob her of her decision of character, and in this matter there was no time to be lost. This is true in all matters of lost joy and blessing, for sorrow can harden as well as soften. It will surely harden if the presence and sympathy of the Lord are not known. The spirit that becomes absorbed with sorrow becomes strangely dulled, insensitive, and self-centred… "I will run to the man of God, and come again," was this woman's settled purpose.
- Lose. The child was God's own gift. Commentators note that God's gifts are not free from deep trial — the more loved, the sharper the sorrow.
- Lay down. She could do nothing for her son, so she laid him where the man of God had lain and in effect committed her sorrow to him.
- Leave. She tells her husband nothing of the death; her need was for the man of God, and some griefs we take only to the Lord.
- Lose no time. She asks to go at once. Sorrow can harden as well as soften, and it hardens when the presence and sympathy of the Lord are not known.
- Look for return. She plans to come back again, and that is the word of faith. The God who gave the child and took him through death could give him back in resurrection.
And he said, Why wilt thou go to him to-day? It is neither new moon nor sabbath. And she said, [It is] well.
The Shunammite's only son is dead. She has laid him on the prophet Elisha's bed, and now she is on her way to Elisha himself, though her husband cannot see why she would go today.
New moon and Sabbath were the set religious days. Her husband assumes the man of God belongs to days like those, and not to an ordinary one.
Her husband, not knowing what has happened, asks, "Why will you go to him today? It is neither new moon nor Sabbath." If he thinks of the man of God, it is only in connection with new moons and sabbaths. Like many people today, he links God only with a religious festival, or the outward keeping of a day. The links that faith has with God are matters of life and death. Faith may not be able to argue with unbelief, or answer the questions raised by mere reason. But faith can say in the darkest moment, "It is well."
Another writer brings that into every day of ordinary life:
Her husband questioned why she should go to the man of God when it was not a special religious day. He was like many formal Christians who think Christianity is good for only certain days. But every believer should realise he needs Christ for every day of his life.
Her three words end the conversation. Writers note that her husband's question was not the only pull on her that day — the prophet's own suggestion of sending a staff by Gehazi would test her too, and she brushed past both.
Her husband's thoughts first, and then Elisha's way, both come as tempters of the steadfastness of her soul. "Why will you go to him today?" her husband says to her. "It is neither new moon nor Sabbath." And Elisha wants Gehazi to satisfy her: he would have him go ahead and lay his staff on the child's face. But the woman's faith silences both.
That answer had a source. Before she left, she was alone in the prophet's room:
First she laid her son upon the prophet's bed. What a burden she carried into that room, where the prophet had lived and slept. We see her enter it with bowed head and weeping eyes, bruised, battered, bewildered. Did she bow in lowly prayer there? I believe she did, for she came forth submissive and calm, with one word in her heart and on her lips with which to meet all questions: "It is well."
She never tells her husband the boy is dead. One writer finds a lesson in that silence for our own griefs.
It may seem strange that she said nothing to her husband about their son's death, but in this case it was the man of God she needed, not her husband. There are some things we may not feel free to share with the closest relative, but must take them only to the Lord Jesus.
Her "All is well" is not a mother pretending. It is a verdict about what God can still do with a dead child. (The writers quote her answer in the older wording, "It is well.")
"It is well," she says, when death was before her soul. What a word! Her son is dead, but it is well! Why? Because she is a worthy daughter of Abraham. The same hope holds her up that held him — the faith that counted God able to raise Isaac from the dead. God who had given her this child and who had taken him back through death, could restore him in resurrection.
The child was God's own gift to her. That is what makes his death a particular kind of test.
We are set down to learn an important lesson: we cannot keep the blessing God gives. Faith may have been at work in receiving the gift. Even so, we still have to learn how necessary it is to deal with God and go on with Him alone, even when we must give up His own gifts. For if we cannot do this, the blessing itself may become a snare… God must be more to us than all the blessings He has given.
- Calendar. Her husband tied the man of God to new moon and Sabbath. Faith's links with God are matters of life and death, not scheduled days.
- Silence. She said nothing about the death. Some griefs go past even the nearest relative, straight to the Lord.
- Steadfastness. Her husband's question and Elisha's offer of a staff both pulled at her. Her faith silenced both and pressed on to the prophet.
- Gift. The son was God's own gift. We cannot keep the blessings He give, and a blessing we clutch can become a snare.
- Resurrection. "All is well" was true. The God who gave the child, and took him back through death, could restore him — the hope Abraham had about Isaac.
Then she saddled the ass, and said to her servant, Drive and go forward; slack not the riding for me, except I bid thee.
Her son lies dead upstairs on the prophet's bed, and her husband has just asked why she needs the man of God on an ordinary day. She gives him no answer — she saddles the donkey and tells her servant one thing: do not slow down.
She never tells her husband that the boy is dead. One writer draws out where she turns instead.
In perfect calm she lays the dead child on the bed of the man of God, shuts the door on him, and goes out. She says nothing to her husband about what has happened. She simply asks him for a young man and one of the donkeys, so that she can go to the man of God. The one who was the instrument to give life is the one she turns to in the presence of death.
Another writer notes the place she chose for the body.
The man of God is this woman's only resource. She lays the child there where the bearer of the Word had lain. She had received the child from him; now that the child is dead, she puts him back into his hands. It is an act of faith.
Why such a hurry? One writer ties it to what she expected God to do when she arrived.
God had given her this child, and God had taken him back through death. He could restore him in resurrection. She expects no less of the man of God, but how she hastens! "Urge the animal on; do not slacken the pace for me," she tells her servant. She has lost the object of her heart, and she can know no rest until she has it back. Mary Magdalene gives us a similar example. She was untaught and no doubt little enlightened, but she wants Jesus, whatever it costs: "Tell me where you have laid him, and I will take him away." At that very moment, she finds Him risen. Any stopping is critical; a moment lost may ruin everything. This woman can find no rest until she has caught the man of God by the feet.
How far did she have to ride? One writer puts a number on it.
See her hurrying across the plain of Jezreel (perhaps thirty miles) to pour out her grief at the feet of the man of God at Mount Carmel.
Her husband had raised a religious objection to the trip. She answers it by getting on the donkey. One writer sees in him a type of person we still meet today.
He could not understand what use the man of God could be on any day but the Sabbath, or perhaps at the new moon. He was like so many people whose tiresome religion is only a matter of form and ceremony, a one-day-a-week affair. They have no sense of the need some of us feel to know our living Lord every day. In any case, this lady of Shunem had neither the heart nor the time to argue the point.
Her orders sound nothing like panic. The same writer explains why any delay at such a moment is dangerous.
Her sorrow did not rob her of her decision of character, and in this matter there was no time to be lost. This is true in all matters of lost joy and blessing. Sorrow can harden as well as soften. It will certainly harden if we do not know the presence and sympathy of the Lord. The spirit that becomes absorbed with sorrow grows dull, unfeeling, and self-centred.
Her calm and her hurry belong together. One writer turns them into a question for us.
Though her heart was breaking, her self-restraint is beautiful. She told the servant, "Urge the animal on; do not slacken the pace for me unless I tell you" (v. 24). This firm, decided purpose speaks to us. It asks whether we have the same fixed purpose of heart: to get to the Lord with our problem as fast as we can.
- Resource. The one whose word gave her the child is the one she runs to when death takes him — she lays the boy on the prophet's bed.
- Refusal. She will not argue about which days are right for seeking God; she saddles up and rides.
- Resolve. Sorrow can harden as well as soften, so she moves before it sets.
- Rate. "Do not slacken the pace" is faith weighing thirty miles of road against a hope of resurrection.
- Reckoning. The question the verse leaves is not whether we go to the Lord with trouble, but how fast.
And she went and came to the man of God, to mount Carmel. And it came to pass when the man of God saw her afar off, that he said to Gehazi his servant, Behold, there is the Shunammite
Commentary for this verse has not been generated yet.
run now, I pray thee, to meet her, and say unto her, Is it well with thee? is it well with thy husband? is it well with the child? And she said, It is well.
Elisha sees the Shunammite woman coming across the plain. He sends Gehazi ahead with three quick questions — about her, her husband, her child. Her son lies dead on the prophet's bed, yet she answers that all is well. Older translations put her answer as "It is well," and the writers below quote it that way. Everything in the verse turns on that answer: what does a believer mean by "it is well" when it plainly is not?
Her reply is not a report on her circumstances. It rests on what she expects God to do with the child He gave her.
"It is well," she says, when death was before her soul. What a word! Her son is dead, but it is well! Why? Because she is a worthy daughter of Abraham. The same hope holds her up that held him: his faith counted on God being able to raise Isaac from the dead. God, who had given her this child and who had taken him back through death, could restore him in resurrection. She expects no less from the man of God, but how she hurries! "Drive, and go forward; do not slacken the pace for me," she tells her servant. Having lost the object of her heart, she can know no rest until she has recovered it.
Before this, her husband had asked why she was going, since it was neither new moon nor Sabbath — and she gave him the same short answer.
If he thinks of the man of God, it is only in connection with new moons and Sabbaths. Like many another in this day, his only thought of God is tied to a religious festival or the outward keeping of a day. The links that faith has with God are matters of life and death. Faith may not be able to argue with unbelief, or answer the questions raised by mere reason; but faith can say in the darkest moment, "It is well."
Elisha sends Gehazi to ask, and Gehazi gets the answer — but nothing more. Notice that the prophet has to ask at all: God has not told him what happened. She presses on to Elisha himself, and only there does the whole grief come out.
"It is well" might do for her husband first and then for Gehazi. But to the man of God she reveals the depth of her sorrow, and in such a way as made it clear that she had grown wonderfully since the promise had been given. She reminds him that she had not asked for the son now lying dead in the prophet's room. Was this not the same as laying a claim on the living God that He should give her back her son in resurrection? Faith is bold, and God delights in encouraging and satisfying the faith that honours Him. Even Elisha finds himself at a loss. God used the prophet's ignorance of what had happened to complete the test, so that she might be thrown back on God Himself.
Her steady answer was not numbness. Faith did not make her loss hurt less; it changed where she took it.
It is clear that the deep struggles of her heart never showed in her outward manner. Faith and spiritual discernment had drawn her to the prophet, and to no one else would she make known her sorrow. It would have been a waste of time. Her behaviour under this deep trial was beautiful. Like another believer, she could say, "I have calmed and quieted my soul, like a weaned child."
One writer draws the general rule out of her example.
A friend once wrote to me — "Faith rejoices in a dead life." And so it is. Where there is no faith, such circumstances produce utter hopelessness. To faith, they are simply the occasion for trusting God alone and completely.
Her answer is not for her alone.
See her hurrying across the plain of Jezreel, perhaps thirty miles. She goes to spread out her grief at the feet of the man of God at Mount Carmel. Such was her confidence in God that she could answer all three questions — about herself, her husband, her child — with "It is well." Friends, it is always "well." "And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to His purpose" (Rom. 8:28).
- Well — Her one word is not a description of her situation but a verdict of faith on it; the child is dead and it is still well.
- Why — It is well because the God who gave the son can give him back; her hope stands on resurrection, like Abraham's with Isaac.
- Who — The short answer goes to her husband and to the servant; she pours out the full grief only at the feet of the man of God — who must himself wait on God.
- Weight — Calm speech did not mean a painless heart; her grief ran deep while nothing showed on the outside.
- Whatever — What crushes a life without faith pushes faith to trust God alone. For those who love God, it is always well.
And she came to the man of God to the mountain, and caught him by the feet; and Gehazi drew near to thrust her away; but the man of God said, Let her alone, for her soul is troubled within her, and Jehovah has hidden it from me, and has not told me.
A grieving mother clings to the prophet's feet, and his servant moves to push her off. Elisha stops him with one sentence — it names her distress and admits that God had kept it from him.
To her husband and to Gehazi she said only that all was well. The full weight came out at Elisha's feet:
"It is well" might be enough for her husband first and then for Gehazi. But to the man of God she reveals the depth of her sorrow, yet in a way that made it clear she had grown remarkably since the promise had been given. She reminds him that she had not asked for the son now lying dead in the prophet's room. Was this not the same as setting up a claim on the living God, that He should give her back her son in resurrection? Faith is bold, and God delights to encourage and satisfy the faith that honours Him.
Another writer explains why she would not stop for anyone:
Any delay is critical. A moment lost may ruin everything. This woman can find no rest until she has caught the man of God by the feet.
Gehazi meant to protect his master. One writer sets that zeal beside the husband's worldly wisdom and finds that both had to go:
The worldly wisdom of the husband must be set aside. He could see no reason or use in drawing near to God or seeking Him at such a time. In the same way, Gehazi's zeal for his master must be disowned. It would have kept her away from the Lord she sought. Officialism, or delegated power or authority, breaks down and completely fails to meet her case — but she never trusted it.
Elisha had no word from God about the boy. What he had was a read on the woman herself:
The prophet knew very well that there was some worthy cause for an action so unusual. "She is in bitter distress," he said, and he was sure of it, "and the LORD has hidden it from me" — hidden even from the man who was the witness of grace.
(Older translations read "her soul is vexed within her" here.)
The verse says the Lord had not told him. One writer gives three reasons for that silence:
The Lord had not revealed the child's sickness to the prophet, and this for more than one reason. If he had known the danger, he would have run there, and the child would not have died. So his dependence on God would have been tested. … And then, if Elisha had known the danger, the Shunammite would not "have seen the glory of God" who raises the dead. A third reason for hiding this event from the prophet was that the Shunammite's faith might be thoroughly tested. Even if the man sent by God had arrived at her home at the very moment her son died, there would have been no chance for her to be fully shown. In this way her faith had its perfect work.
Her trust in the prophet carried a danger of its own:
If there was anyone or anything in danger of coming between her soul and God, it was the prophet, the man of God. … But it was possible then — as, sadly, we find it now — for the channel to take, more or less, the place with the soul which belongs only to the source it is supplied from. In any case, the Shunammite is to learn that even the man of God can do nothing for her of himself.
The lesson was not only for her. The same writer says what the silence did to Elisha, and what it did not do:
That it had been hidden from him entirely … was enough to raise a question in the prophet's soul: would God teach him, too, that the power was not in him, but in God Himself? Elisha may have had to learn this lesson more deeply than before. But that was not to shake or weaken his faith in God. It was to test and strengthen it. Tried it was, but not shaken.
- Silence, then speech. She told her husband and Gehazi only that all was well. The grief came out at the feet of the man of God. There it became a claim on the God who raises the dead.
- Zeal that blocks. Gehazi's push was loyalty, not malice — and it would still have kept her from the Lord she was seeking. Delegated authority failed where faith got through.
- Sight without facts. Elisha knew nothing of the boy's death. He still saw real distress behind her unusual act, and made room for it.
- Hidden on purpose. God kept the news back for three reasons: to test the prophet's dependence, to let the mother's faith do its perfect work, and to let her see the glory of God who raises the dead.
- Channel, not source. The man who gave her the promise could do nothing of himself. The withholding pushed her past the servant of God to God.
And she said, Did I desire a son of my lord? did I not say, Do not deceive me?
The woman of Shunem had lost the son God gave her, and she rode hard to Carmel saying nothing of it to anyone. Only at Elisha's feet did she speak, and her words were not a plea but a reminder: she had never asked for this child.
Her words look back to a promise she had not sought. One writer ties her sorrow to the very thing that made the boy precious:
Yet in this world, even the mercies and the gifts of God are not free from deep trial. So it was with the Shunammite's son. The more he was loved and valued as the gift of God, above all by his mother, the more sorrow became her portion. He fell sick, came home to his mother, and died.
Her question carries its own answer: she never asked for a son. One writer looks at what was in her heart before the promise came:
Still, the Shunammite's heart holds a secret desire, a great desire. It was so high and so far out of reach that she had never told anyone. But the prophet's servant could see that she lacked something, and without it her happiness would always be incomplete. "She has no son, and her husband is old." … The Shunammite did not speak of this need herself. She accepted the circumstances where God's providence had placed her. Only the emptiness was there, felt deeply in her heart.
The second half of her sentence quotes herself. When the promise was first made she had answered, "Do not lie to your servant." Now she throws that back, and the ground she stands on is that nothing in this child began with her:
She counts on Him whose promises are never taken back. They rest only on the grace of the One who gives them when they were never asked for, so that nothing in them comes from her at all. She believes that even if men deceive, God does not. Had Elisha been a man like other men, he might have been mistaken, making a promise without keeping it. But he represented God, and a man of God could not act like that.
The Lord kept this trouble hidden from Elisha. Commentators read more than one purpose in that silence:
If he had known the danger, he would have run there, and the child would not have died. So his dependence upon God would have been put to the test. … And if Elisha had known the danger, the Shunammite would not have "seen the glory of God" who raises the dead. A third reason for hiding this event from the prophet was to test the Shunammite's faith to the full.
Her sentence has the shape of a complaint, but it functions as an argument. Having asked for nothing, she can ask for everything:
She reminds him that she had not asked for the son who now lies dead in the prophet's room. Was this not the same as laying a claim on the living God, that He should give her son back in resurrection? Faith is bold, and God delights to encourage and satisfy the faith that honours Him.
Notice how little she said, and to whom. To her husband and to Gehazi she gave the same answer: "All is well." She kept the whole grief for the prophet.
She had received the promise through Elisha. One writer names the danger in that:
But it was possible then — and, sadly, we find it now — for the channel to take, more or less, the place in the soul that belongs only to the source that supplies it. In any case, the Shunammite must learn that even the man of God can do nothing for her by himself.
Nothing else will fill that place — not the staff, and not her own grief:
Religious observances will not bring the child back. The staff, which may serve for everyday circumstances, is no use in this bitter trouble. Grief, however real, will not call the child back. It must be the Lord alone who can raise the dead.
- Unasked. She never asked for a son. The whole gift began on God's side, and that is the ground of everything she says here.
- Unbearable. The child was pure gift, and that is why losing him cut so deep. Even God's mercies come with trial.
- Unexplained. The Lord hid the crisis from Elisha to test the prophet's dependence and the woman's faith.
- Unanswerable. Her question is really a claim: the One who gave what was never asked for can give it back from the dead.
- Unmoved. No servant, no staff, no religious routine will do. She holds out for God Himself, and He is the only one who answers.
And he said to Gehazi, Gird up thy loins, and take my staff in thy hand, and go thy way. If thou meet any man, salute him not, and if any salute thee, answer him not again; and lay my staff upon the face of the lad.
Elisha has just learned why the Shunammite woman came running to him: her son is dead. He does not go himself but sends his servant ahead with his staff — can a symbol of power do the work of the living God?
The order to greet no one is not rudeness. It reflects a custom that would have swallowed the day.
Greetings in the East were often very long and merely a formality. That may well explain why those sent in a hurry were told to greet no one along the way. 2 Kings 4:29; Luke 10:4.
The whole shape of the command is single-minded. One writer reads it as a mission stripped of everything but its object.
He says to Gehazi, "Gird up your loins, and take my staff in your hand and go your way." He was to go without stopping, heeding no one, greeting no one. He had his mission to lay the prophet's staff upon the face of the child.
Commentators differ on what the staff pictures. One takes it as the mark of Elisha's own manner of life, handed to a man who had not lived it:
The staff is the emblem of the prophet's walk, but someone other than himself is carrying it. Will the Shunammite accept that as the remedy for her distress? No, her faith accepts no go-between, for it is not Gehazi who will save or who can save.
Another sees a picture of God's law. The point lies in what the law could not do.
Elisha's staff is symbolical of the law of God. But what could the law do, even in a servant's hands or in the hands of religious Pharisees? The law could tell a living person how to live, but what of a dead person? In the Old Testament the law had its opportunity to give life, if it could. But it only proved that people were dead in sins, just as the staff on the boy's face did nothing.
The errand went to a proud man, and nothing came of it. The silence that followed is a warning to anyone who handles the Word of God.
We can well understand his pride as he walked off with Elisha's staff. That staff had struck the Jordan and divided the waters. It was a mighty staff, and it had done such wonders! It was in his possession now! No doubt he imagined he was going to do great things with it as he laid it on the face of the dead child! But there was neither voice nor hearing. Is it possible to take the Word of God — that which is mighty to give life — and use it without effect, so that there is neither voice nor hearing? It is possible. If the staff is to be of any use in your hand you must be in touch with the One in whom is life and power.
She had been promised a son by this prophet. Now she will not swap him for his servant and his stick.
She preferred the living person to the lifeless staff, however much the staff might be a symbol of power. Perhaps Elisha was testing her, as Elijah tested him on the day he was taken up. If so, her faith responded nobly. How many in our time cling to lifeless forms to the neglect of the living Christ!
Her refusal is not stubbornness but discernment about where life comes from.
She rightly feels that servants and staffs will be of no use. Nothing but the power of God brought in by one who is in touch with God will restore the dead child.
Here the writers are candid that Scripture does not say. The verse before this one records that God had hidden the matter from Elisha, and one writer leaves the motive an open question.
Did the prophet do this under divine guidance, as a lesson for Gehazi and a test of the Shunammite's faith? Or had the Lord hidden the case from him, so that he was now left to act in his own wisdom and strength, without direct guidance from God? I would not say.
The same writer sees a danger in the woman's attachment to the prophet.
It was possible then — and, sadly, we find it now — for the channel to take more or less the place with the soul that belongs only to the source it is supplied from. At all events, the Shunammite is to learn that even the man of God can do nothing for her by himself.
- Haste — Greetings in the East were long and merely a formality. Those sent in a hurry were told to greet no one, as in Luke 10:4.
- Staff — Elisha's staff had divided the Jordan. Commentators read it either as the emblem of the prophet's own walk or as a picture of God's law.
- Silence — In Gehazi's hand that same staff produced neither voice nor hearing. You can hold the Word that gives life and see no effect, unless you are in touch with the One in whom is life and power.
- Substitute — The mother would not trade the living man of God for a lifeless symbol. Many still cling to lifeless forms instead of the living Christ.
- Source — Servants and staffs do not raise the dead. Only God's power restores life, and the channel must never take the place of the source.
And the mother of the lad said, As Jehovah liveth, and as thy soul liveth, I will not leave thee! And he rose up and followed her.
The child is dead, and Elisha's first move is to send his servant Gehazi ahead with a staff. The mother will not take it. She binds herself with an oath and will not move without the prophet himself.
Gehazi had real orders and real haste. That was still not enough for the mother.
He tells Gehazi to tie up his garment, take his staff in his hand, and go. He was to go without delay, paying attention to no one, greeting no one. He had his mission — to lay the prophet's staff on the face of the child. This would not satisfy the faith of the mother. The staff would not do. The prophet, and nothing else than the prophet, must go.
Her refusal was not stubbornness. It came from what she had learned near the prophet, and it left him no answer.
Will the Shunammite accept the emblem of the prophet's walk, carried by someone other than himself, as the remedy for her distress? No, her faith accepts no intermediate agent, for it is not Gehazi who will save, or who can save. She had learned in the prophet's school that blessing comes by staying in constant relationship with the One who is its source. "As the LORD lives," she says, "and as you yourself live, I will not leave you!" These were the very words Elisha had spoken to Elijah. How could the man of God resist this faith which took him as its model? How could he refuse to go?
Twice that day someone stood between her and the man of God. First her husband, then Gehazi.
The worldly wisdom of the husband must be set aside. He could see no reason or use in drawing near to God or seeking Him at such a time. So, too, must the zeal of Gehazi for his master be disowned. It would have kept her away from the Lord she sought. Delegated power or authority breaks down and completely fails to meet her case. She never trusted it. The words, "As the LORD lives and as you yourself live, I will not leave you," proved that her faith was real. They showed the depth and intensity of her spiritual convictions. … Her words are not mere sentiment. They are the unmistakable signs of God's own work in a person. Where all collective testimony is lost, that work makes the individual stand on divine principles and say to the Lord Jesus, "Come what may, I will not leave You."
The Lord kept the child's death from the prophet. One writer gives three reasons for that silence.
If he had known the danger, he would have run there, and the child would not have died. So his dependence on God would have been put to the test… Also, if Elisha had known the danger, the Shunammite would never have seen the glory of God, who raises the dead. There was a third reason for hiding this event from the prophet. It was to test the Shunammite's faith to the full… in this way her faith had its perfect work.
Commentators differ in emphasis here. Some read her refusal as faith holding to the prophet. Another sees a danger in the very man she held to.
If there was anyone or anything in danger of coming between her soul and God, it was the prophet, the man of God… But it was possible then, and it is sadly possible now, for the channel to take, in some measure, the place in the soul. That place belongs only to the source that supplies it. At any rate, the Shunammite is to learn that even the man of God can do nothing for her of himself… Elisha's staff in Gehazi's hands is as powerless as any other piece of wood. The prophet's staff without the prophet's faith accomplishes nothing.
Three things had to be shut out before the child could be raised. Each of them looked like help.
All must be shut out: the husband with his talk of new moons and Sabbaths, the servant with his staff, and the woman with her sorrow. Religious observances will not bring the child back. The staff may meet everyday needs, but it is no use in this hard place. Grief, however real, will not recall the child. It must be the Lord alone who can raise the dead.
- Substitute refused. Elisha offered a staff and a servant. She would have neither. The prophet himself, and no one else, had to go.
- Model borrowed. Her oath repeats Elisha's own words to Elijah, so her faith took him as its model and he could not resist it.
- Obstacles cleared. Her husband's reasoning and Gehazi's zeal both stood in her way. Borrowed authority failed, and she had never trusted it.
- Silence explained. God hid the child's death from the prophet. That tested her faith to the full and let her see God's glory in resurrection.
- Person required. Elisha shut religious observance, borrowed power and honest grief outside the door. Only the Lord raises the dead, and her words fit every believer: "Come what may, I will not leave You."
And Gehazi passed on before them, and laid the staff upon the face of the lad; but there was neither voice, nor sign of attention. And he returned to meet him, and told him saying, The lad is not awaked.
Elisha had promised a son to a childless woman at Shunem. The boy had died. Now the prophet sends his servant Gehazi ahead with his staff, and follows behind. The staff touches the child's face and nothing happens. What can touch death, then, and what only looks as if it can?
Gehazi's failed errand is not a random setback. It confirms the instinct that made the Shunammite refuse to go home with a servant and a stick in place of the prophet himself.
So here again was another test of faith, and she was right. "And Gehazi went on ahead and laid the staff on the face of the child, but there was no sound or sign of life." Yes, she was right.
Her refusal was not stubbornness but discernment about what the situation required.
She rightly feels that servants and staves will be of no avail. Nothing but the power of God brought in by one who is in touch with God will restore the dead child.
The staff had a history. A man through whom God worked wonders had carried it. None of that counted once it was in Gehazi's hand.
Gehazi had not the spirit for this work. He was a self-centred and ambitious man. We can well understand his pride as he walked off with Elisha's staff. It was the staff that had struck the Jordan and divided the waters — that mighty staff which had done such wonders! It was now in his possession! No doubt he imagined he was going to do great things with it as he laid it on the face of the dead child! But there was no sound or sign of life. Is it possible to take the Word of God — the thing that is mighty to give life — and use it without effect, so that there is no sound or sign of life? It is possible. If the staff is to be of any use in your hand you must be in touch with the One in whom is life and power.
The same failure appears elsewhere in Scripture.
To have power in one's hands is not everything. The disciples who were with the Lord had received from Him "power and authority over all demons and to cure diseases" (Luke 9:1). Yet when a boy with a demon needed healing, they could not heal him. The power to do that depended on their personal communion.
Commentators differ on what the staff pictures. One reading takes it as the law of God.
Elisha's staff is symbolic of the law of God. But what could the law do, even in a servant's hands or in the hands of religious Pharisees? The law could tell a living person how to live, but what about a dead person? In the Old Testament the law had its chance to give life, if it could. But it only proved people to be dead in sins, just as the staff on the boy's face did nothing.
Others see a lifeless thing chosen over a living person.
She preferred the living person to the lifeless staff, symbol of power though it might be... How many in our time cling to lifeless forms (sacraments and the like) and neglect the living Christ!
The trial cut deeper than Gehazi. The woman had to learn that even the man of God was not her resource.
It was possible then — and sadly we find it now — for the channel to take the place in the soul that belongs only to the source it draws from. In any case, the Shunammite is to learn that even the man of God can do nothing for her by himself... They meet Gehazi returning from his fruitless journey. It is one more witness that the outward forms and circumstances of faith are nothing by themselves. They are nothing apart from faith itself and the power of the living God, on which faith rests. Elisha's staff in Gehazi's hands is as powerless as any other piece of wood. The prophet's staff without the prophet's faith accomplishes nothing.
When Elisha arrives, everything that had been tried is shut outside the room.
The husband, with his talk of new moons and sabbaths; the servant, with his staff; and the woman with her sorrow, must all be shut out. Religious observances will not bring the child back. The staff may meet everyday circumstances, but it is no use in this hard place. Grief, however real, will not recall the child. It must be the Lord alone who can raise the dead.
And the raising is not done at arm's length, as the staff was.
He desires to identify himself completely with the child in death. And what grief, what anguish, what labour of soul! He has no rest until he has finished his work, taking the place of the dead child to give him life.
- Staff. The staff that struck the Jordan touched a dead boy's face and did nothing — no sound, no sign of life.
- Servant. The staff failed because of the man holding it. To use what gives life, you must be in touch with the One who is life.
- Standard. Read as a picture of the law, the staff could tell a living person how to live but only proved the dead to be dead.
- Source. The mother's faith would not stop at the channel — not at a servant, not at an object, not even at the prophet apart from God.
- Substitute. Life came only when Elisha shut the door on every other remedy. He lay on the child himself, taking the dead boy's place to give him life.
And when Elisha came into the house, behold, the child was dead, [and] laid upon his bed.
Elisha reaches the house at last, and there is nothing to see but a dead boy on the prophet's own bed. Two things decide the meaning of this scene: why the mother laid him there, and what Elisha does once the door is shut.
The mother — the woman of Shunem — did not leave the boy where he died. She carried him to the room where the prophet stayed and laid him on his bed.
She lays the child there where the bearer of the Word had lain. She had received the child from him; dead, she entrusted the child to him. It is an act of faith.
Elisha did not know the boy was ill until the mother reached him. God had kept it from him, and one writer gives three reasons for that.
If he had known the danger, he would have run there, and the child would not have died. So his dependence upon God would have been put to the test. … And then, if Elisha had known the danger, the Shunammite would not "have seen the glory of God" who raises the dead. A third reason for hiding this from the prophet was to test the Shunammite's faith to the full.
Elisha had already sent his servant Gehazi ahead with his staff. Gehazi came back with nothing to report.
Elisha said to him, "Take my staff and lay it on the face of the child." But Gehazi did not have the spirit for this. … Doubtless he imagined he was going to do great things with it as he laid it on the face of the dead child! But there was neither voice nor hearing. Is it possible to take the Word of God — which has power to give life — and use it without effect, so that there is neither voice nor hearing? It is possible.
Gehazi's failure also did something in Elisha.
That the whole matter was hidden from him, and that Gehazi's journey with the staff — which the prophet himself had ordered — proved completely useless, was enough to raise the question in the prophet's soul whether God would teach him too that the power was not in himself, but in God Himself.
Inside the house Elisha closes the door and prays. Who he shuts out matters as much as what he does inside.
He went into the room of death and "shut the door behind the two of them and prayed to the Lord." It was a solemn moment. The prophet felt his utter dependence on the Lord. More than that, he felt how deeply he needed to be alone with Him. The husband, with his talk of new moons and sabbaths; the servant, with his staff, and the woman with her sorrow, must all be shut out. Religious observances will not bring the child back. The staff may meet everyday needs, but it is of no use in a crisis like this. Grief, however real, will not bring him back either. It must be the Lord alone who can raise the dead.
It is not the first shut door in this chapter.
There had been the "shut door" with the woman and the oil, proving God in secret. Now another scene of the deepest gravity calls for the same "shut door" and the secret of God's presence.
Prayer was not all. Elisha lay down on the dead child himself.
The prophet, a dead body, and the living God who gives life to the dead! … He identifies himself so completely with the one for whom he intercedes; it is as though he would tell God that if the child were not restored to life he could only lie there with him in death. What faith! What holy boldness! Nor is it left without encouragement. "The flesh of the child grew warm."
The scene points forward to Christ. One writer marks where the likeness stops.
But there is a great difference between the picture and the reality it points to. Elijah and Elisha had to make this personal contact, for they could not die for another. Their action was only a figure of Christ's great work. The Lord Himself, when on earth working similar miracles, had only to speak the word "and it was done."
- Laid — she had received the boy through Elisha. Dead, she gave him back to Elisha, on his own bed.
- Hidden — God kept the news from Elisha. That tested his dependence and her faith, and it let her see God raise the dead.
- Useless — Gehazi carried the right staff and got "neither voice nor hearing." Holding the instrument is not the same as knowing the One who gives life.
- Shut — religious routine, borrowed power and honest grief all stayed outside the door. Only the Lord raises the dead, so Elisha met Him alone.
- Stretched — Elisha had to lie on the body, because he could not die for the boy. Christ needed only to speak.
And he went in and shut the door upon them both, and prayed to Jehovah.
Elisha arrives at the house and finds the boy dead on the prophet's own bed. His first act is not a wonder but a shut door and a prayer.
The door shuts "behind the two of them" — Elisha and the dead child, no one else. One writer names who stayed outside, and why.
He went into the room of death and "shut the door behind the two of them and prayed to the LORD." It was a solemn moment. The prophet felt his utter dependence on the Lord. More than that, he felt a deep need to be alone with the Lord. The husband, with his talk of new moons and sabbaths, the servant with his staff, the woman with her sorrow — all must stay outside. Religious observances will not bring the child back. The staff may meet everyday needs, but it is no use in this hard place. Grief, however real, will not recall the child. It must be the Lord alone who can raise the dead.
This is not the first shut door in the story. One writer ties it back to an earlier one, and says what such a door is for.
With Elisha, we see a deep searching of heart before God. … There had already been the "shut door" with the woman and the oil, proving God in secret. Now another scene of deepest seriousness calls for the same "shut door" and the secret of the presence of God.
Elisha had first sent his servant ahead with his staff. The mother would not settle for it. She wanted the man himself, and this verse shows she was right.
She preferred the living person to the lifeless staff, though the staff was a symbol of power. Perhaps Elisha was testing her. If so, her faith responded nobly. Sadly, how many in our time cling to lifeless forms (sacraments, and such) while neglecting the living Christ! … Even so, it is only contact with the living Christ that can give life, and also sustain the life once it has been received.
The failed errand had a lesson in it for the prophet himself.
The matter had been hidden from Elisha, and Gehazi's journey with the staff proved useless. That was enough to raise the question in the prophet's soul whether God would teach him too that the power was not in the prophet, but in God Himself. His faith was tried and strengthened, not shaken.
Behind that door are three: the prophet, a dead body, and God. One writer sees the prophet take the dead child's place.
"So he went in and shut the door behind the two of them and prayed to the LORD." The prophet, a dead body, and the living God, who gives life to the dead! … He identifies himself completely with the one he prays for. It is as though he would tell God that if the child were not restored to life, he could only lie there with him in death. What faith! What holy boldness!
God did not raise the boy the moment Elisha came in. One writer says what the delay was for.
All the world might have done it in vain. God was pleased in this way to draw out the mind and heart of the prophet. It was not to be a cold prayer, or even just an earnest one. It showed in the most vivid way that God had an interest in the prophet and answers faith.
The same picture returns in the gospel: a living man going down to where the dead lie.
A living man, the obedient one, has gone down into death. He did this to show His love in full, and to raise up those who lay under death. "Jesus said to her, I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in me shall never die." … Christ has come down into our depths of misery and death. He entered fully into our circumstances, so that He might deliver us and raise us to His heights.
- Shut out. The husband's religious calendar, the servant's staff, the mother's grief — all stayed outside the door. None of them could raise a dead child.
- Shut in. The closed door is the secret of God's presence. The same door had already proved God in the matter of the oil.
- Not a thing, but a Person. The staff was a symbol of power, and it failed. Only contact with the living Christ gives life and keeps it.
- Identification. Elisha prayed, then took the child's place, as if to tell God he would lie there in death unless the boy lived.
- Drawn out. God did not answer at once. He drew the prophet's heart out in prayer, showing that He has an interest in His servant and answers faith.
And he went up, and lay upon the child, and put his mouth upon his mouth, and his eyes upon his eyes, and his hands upon his hands, and bent over him; and the flesh of the child grew warm.
Elisha has shut the door on a dead boy and prayed. Now he does something stranger still: he climbs onto the body and matches himself to it, limb for limb. Why does raising the dead call for such close personal contact, and what did it cost the man who did it?
Before the contact came prayer, and before the prayer, a closed door. Elisha shut out everything that could not help.
It was a solemn moment. The prophet felt his utter dependence on the Lord. More than that, he felt his deep need to be alone with the Lord. The husband with his talk of new moons and sabbaths, the servant with his staff, the woman with her sorrow — all must be shut out. Religious observances will not bring the child back. The staff may meet everyday needs, but it is no use in this hard situation. Grief, however real, will not recall the child. It must be the Lord alone who can raise the dead.
Elisha had first sent his servant ahead with his staff. The mother refused it and held on to the man himself.
He told Gehazi to take his staff and lay it on the face of the child. This, however well meant, did not satisfy the Shunammite. She said to the prophet, "As the LORD lives, and as you yourself live, I will not leave you." She preferred the living person to the lifeless staff, even though the staff stood for power… How sad that so many today cling to lifeless forms and neglect the living Christ! … Even so, only contact with the living Christ can give life, and keep that life once we have received it.
The verse lists three points of contact. One writer reads each as a picture of what the Lord gives when He gives life.
How clearly this shows us that life can only come from life. In picture, the Lord puts His mouth on our mouth, breathing in the breath of life, which will have a pure effect on what we speak. His eyes on our eyes speak of light coming from His eyes to enlighten ours. His hands on our hands pictures the work of His hands giving to our hands the ability to work for Him. Elisha stretching himself on the child speaks of the energy the Lord expends to give life to us.
Elisha throws his whole self in with the one he prays for.
He identifies himself completely with the one he prays for. It is as though he would tell God that if the child were not raised to life, he could only lie there with him in death. What faith! what holy boldness! And encouragement came: "the flesh of the child became warm."
One writer weighs what this prayer was, and what it cost.
Do we not see in this fine scene the effective, fervent prayer of a righteous man? … Such faith has its reward. God answers the prayer, for we read, "the flesh of the child became warm." Yet even so, it did not come without the wrestling of faith and the agony of prayer.
Bending down to a child's size looks like shrinking, not stretching. One writer builds a lesson from that about work with children.
Put a living man's mouth on a dead child's mouth, his eyes on the child's eyes, his hands on the child's hands: we would have thought this needs shrinking, not stretching. Believe me, anyone who thinks this work is anything but supremely important makes a great mistake… We do not appeal to great minds and gifts. We appeal to great simplicity, great faith, great tact, and the love that hopes all things, endures all things, suffers long, and is kind.
Set beside the Gospels, the prophet's long labour looks nothing like the Lord's own way.
The Lord's simple and dignified way here stands in striking contrast with the way of the Old Testament prophets when they performed similar miracles. The Lord spoke and acted in His own right. The prophets had to look up with earnest longing for power to raise the dead, because that power was not in themselves… How different was the Lord's way. He took the child by the hand, said, "Talitha cumi," and at once she rose.
- Shut out. The staff, the religious routine, even a mother's grief — all went outside the door. Only the Lord can raise the dead.
- Person, not prop. She would not take the lifeless staff instead of the living prophet. Only contact with the living Christ gives life and keeps it.
- Life to death. Mouth to mouth, eyes to eyes, hands to hands: life can only come from life.
- Cost. Elisha lay where the dead child lay, as if to say he would stay there in death unless the child rose. Warmth came, but only with the wrestling of faith.
- Contrast. What cost the prophet agony cost the Lord a word — He spoke in His own right, and the child arose.
And he returned, and walked in the house to and fro; and went up, and bent over him. And the lad sneezed seven times, and the lad opened his eyes.
The prophet has already lain on the dead boy once, and the body has grown warm — yet the child is still not alive. Why does the prophet get up, pace the room, and lie on the child a second time before the boy opens his eyes?
The pacing and the repeated action are not restlessness. They mark how much this cost the man who prayed.
Do we not see in this fine scene the effectual fervent prayer of a righteous man? This is prayer that rightly shuts out everything of man and his efforts. It looks only to the Lord. It makes the need of the one prayed for its own. Such faith has its reward — the prayer is answered, for we read, "the flesh of the child became warm." Yet even so, it did not come without the wrestling of faith and the agony of prayer. For we read that the prophet "got up again and walked once back and forth in the house, and went up and stretched himself upon him." Then the child opened his eyes.
One writer finds the word "stretched" itself surprising, and draws a lesson from it for anyone who works with children:
When Elisha raised the Shunammite woman's son, we read that he "stretched himself upon him." We would have thought that laying a living man's mouth on a dead child's mouth, a living man's eyes on a dead child's eyes, a living man's hands on a dead child's hands would call for shrinking rather than stretching. Believe me, anyone who thinks this work is anything but very important makes a great mistake. Many a well-liked preacher quite fails to hold the interest and attention of children. We appeal not to great minds and gifts, but to great simplicity, great faith, and great tact. We appeal to the love that hopes all things and endures all things, that suffers long and is kind.
Elisha does not stand at a distance and command. He puts himself where the child is.
Elisha enters and closes the door upon the two of them. He desires to identify himself completely with the child in death. And what grief, what anguish, what labour of soul! He has no rest until he has finished his work, taking the place of the dead child to give him life. The child opens his eyes to the light.
The strangest detail in the verse is also the clearest sign that life has fully returned. The first contact warmed the body; the second brought the child all the way back.
Life was in the child, but the full vigour of life was lacking. So Elisha had to act a second time, to produce life "abundantly" (John 10:10). The child sneezed seven times and opened his eyes. The sneezing shows that life has power in itself to clear the channels of life, just as a sneeze clears the airways. The seven times speaks of the completeness of the work done. The Lord does not make us barely alive, but brings us to a state of enjoying the full vigour of life.
Nothing Elisha did explains what happened. No man and no method can raise the dead.
All the world might have done it in vain. It pleased God to draw out the mind and heart of the prophet in this way. It was not to be just a cold request, or even an earnest one. It showed in the most vivid way that God had an interest in the prophet and answers faith.
The scene pictures something larger. But writers are careful to mark where the likeness ends.
But there is a great difference between the picture and the One it pictures. Elijah and Elisha had to make this personal contact, for they could not die for another. Their action was only a picture of Christ's great work. When the Lord Himself worked similar miracles on earth, He had only to speak the word, and it was done.
One writer notices who was not in the room:
Outside the room was the mother, probably in step with all that the prophet was doing, and waiting on the God who raises the dead.
- Labour — The pacing and the second stretching show a man in agony of prayer, not a man performing a technique.
- Contact — Elisha gives life by taking the dead child's place. He takes no rest until the work is finished.
- Completeness — Seven sneezes and opened eyes are not bare survival. They mark the full vigour of life.
- Source — All the world could have tried this and failed. The power was God's, drawn out through the faith of His servant.
- Shadow — The prophet could lie on the child, but he could not die for him. Christ died, and He gives life by a word.
And he called Gehazi, and said, Call this Shunammite. And he called her; and she came to him. And he said, Take up thy son.
Elisha has shut himself in with a dead boy and prayed. Now the door opens: he sends Gehazi for the mother, and gives her back the son she carried in dead.
This is not the first time the prophet has sent for this woman. One writer traces the three calls and what each one brought her.
"Call her" — How this new call must have moved the Shunammite! The first time (v. 12) the prophet had called her to test the precious faith she had. The second time (v. 15) he called to give her the child of promise, an object for her heart. The third time — what would he give her when mourning was filling her soul? Ah! She does not doubt; he would give her her son, clothed in an entirely new character: her resurrected son. Oh, joy beyond words! Her heart is too full to speak; she bows down silently; she worships!
Elisha says almost nothing here, and she says nothing at all. One writer reads both silences, then finds a second lesson hidden in the name of her town.
His heart was so full that he did not trust himself to say more, and her heart was so full that she could say nothing. She bowed at his feet to the ground, took up her son and went out. They understood one another perfectly. But now the woman had learned of the grace and power of God not only in giving life, but in resurrection life. In fact, Shunem means "double rest." This dear woman had learned that double rest in the birth of her son and in his resurrection.
The striking thing about her response is what is missing from it.
The scene is full of moral greatness. There was no cry of delight or surprise at what had happened. No, she expected it. Her faith had gripped the God of resurrection. "Women received back their dead by resurrection" (Heb. 11:35). The Shunammite could only fall at the feet of the one who had brought life to her. In the same way we bow before Him. He has shattered the power of death for us, and secured for us life for ever.
She never asked for a son, and she never asked for him to be raised. The blessing came from the other side.
Here then was not only the gracious answer of what was good. Here was power greater than evil in its most terrible form to man on earth: power greater than death. And this too in perfect grace. It was not that the Shunammite had asked him for the blessing, for it was he who had sought to give the blessing. But at the same time God wrought in her heart to expect another, and she was not disappointed.
One writer turns the scene on the reader. He asks whether you have stopped at Christ's death, or have met Him risen too.
Dear Christian readers, have you had these experiences? Have you first learned to know Christ as the One who passed through death for you, who bore all its anguish? Surely the joy that you have known in this deliverance has been great, but have you remained there? Have you found yourself before a risen Christ? If this has not been so, you still have only half of Christianity, a half-joy, half an object for your faith. But if you have come to know Him in this character, then like the Shunammite you may bow down, take your son, and go out. Your portion is complete. There is nothing left for you but to take possession of your inheritance with Him.
- Given — the son was a gift she never asked for; the blessing came from the giver's side.
- Taken — God let the same gift die, because she had one more thing to learn: the God who gives life is also the God of resurrection.
- Called — the third summons of her life was the richest: the same son handed back in an entirely new character.
- Rested — Shunem means "double rest," and she learned both: rest in her son's birth, rest in his resurrection.
- Worshipped — she said nothing, bowed to the ground, lifted the child and walked out. That is the answer to resurrection: worship first, then carry a complete portion home.