Commentary - 2 Kings 4:18-37

Bird's-eye view

This passage presents a stark and glorious picture of death and resurrection, a powerful Old Testament foreshadowing of the gospel itself. The son of promise, given miraculously to the Shunammite woman, is just as miraculously taken away. His sudden death is a picture of the curse, the wages of sin which is death. But the mother's response is not one of despair, but of a tenacious, bulldog faith. She does not accept death as the final word. She goes immediately to the man of God, the representative of the God of life. Her faith is tested, her husband questions her, the prophet's servant is an ineffectual substitute, but she will not be deterred. She knows that the God who gave life can also restore it. Elisha, acting as God's instrument, confronts death head-on. The failed attempt with the staff shows that resurrection is not a matter of magical objects or detached ritual; it requires personal, intense, and prayerful engagement. Elisha's actions, stretching himself out over the boy, are a vivid illustration of life overcoming death through intimate contact. The boy's revival is a direct result of God's power working through His prophet, a signpost pointing to the ultimate victory over the grave that would be accomplished by Jesus Christ.

The story is a microcosm of God's redemptive plan. A promised son dies, and through the intercession of a mediator, he is brought back to life. This is the shape of the gospel. It teaches us that faith does not deny the reality of death and sorrow, but it refuses to let them have the last word. It clings to the God of resurrection, the God who brings life out of death, and who will one day wipe every tear from our eyes.

Outline

Context In 2 Kings

This story is part of a cycle of miracles performed by Elisha that demonstrate Yahweh's power and authority in the apostate northern kingdom of Israel. These miracles are not random acts of power but serve as signs pointing to the true God in a land riddled with Baal worship. Elisha's ministry, following Elijah's, is a continuation of God's prophetic war against idolatry. This particular miracle, the raising of the dead, is one of the most profound. It stands alongside the story of Elijah raising the widow of Zarephath's son (1 Kings 17) as a powerful testimony that Yahweh is the Lord of life and death, a claim no pagan deity could make. The narrative reinforces the authority of God's prophet and provides a tangible picture of the hope of resurrection, a doctrine that would find its ultimate fulfillment in Christ.

Key Issues

Commentary

4:18 Then the child was grown. And the day came that he went out to his father to the reapers.

The story begins with the mundane. The miracle child, the son of promise, is no longer an infant. He is grown enough to go out to the fields where the real work of life is happening. This is a picture of normalcy, of life proceeding as it should. The harvest is a time of blessing and provision, the fruit of labor. But it is in the midst of this ordinary blessing that the crisis strikes. This is how life works. The serpent is in the garden, and death intrudes upon our most cherished gifts.

4:19 And he said to his father, “My head, my head.” And he said to his young man, “Carry him to his mother.”

The cry is sudden and sharp. "My head, my head." It could have been sunstroke, a brain aneurysm, we are not told the medical cause because the spiritual cause is what matters. A sudden, catastrophic affliction. The father's response is practical. He delegates the task to a servant. "Carry him to his mother." The father is busy with the harvest, and in that moment, he likely does not grasp the severity of the situation. It is the mother who will bear the immediate weight of this tragedy.

4:20 Then he carried him and brought him to his mother, and he sat on her knees until noon, and then died.

Here is a picture of profound sorrow. The mother holds her dying son. The hours tick by until noon, the height of the day, and at that very point, the light of her life goes out. He sat on her knees, the place of comfort and security, and it became the place of his death. This is the curse in its rawest form. The gift of God is snatched away by the last enemy, death. There is no sentimentality here, just the brutal fact of loss.

4:21 Then she went up and laid him on the bed of the man of God and shut the door behind him and went out.

Her actions here are remarkable. There is no wailing, no public display of grief. Instead, there is a quiet, determined resolve. She takes her dead son and lays him on the bed of Elisha, the "man of God." This is an act of faith. She is placing the problem, the embodiment of death, squarely in the domain of God's power. The bed was a place of rest and life for the prophet; she is consecrating her dead son to the God of that prophet. Shutting the door is also significant. She is sealing the situation, leaving it with God, and turning to the next necessary step.

4:22 And she called to her husband and said, “Please send me one of the young men and one of the donkeys, that I may run to the man of God and return.”

She does not tell her husband the boy is dead. Why? Perhaps to avoid a debate, to prevent his despair from hindering her faith. She knows what she must do, and she needs to move with urgency. Her request is simple and direct. She needs transportation, and she needs to go to the source of the original promise, the man of God. Her faith is active; it "runs."

4:23 And he said, “Why will you go to him today? It is neither new moon nor sabbath.” And she said, “It is well.”

The husband represents the voice of conventional religion and worldly reason. People visited the prophet on special days, holy days, for instruction. Her trip is outside the established norms. It doesn't make sense from a calendar perspective. This is a test. Will she be deterred by the ordinary expectations of others? Her answer is one of the great confessions of faith in all of Scripture: "It is well." The Hebrew is simply "Shalom." Peace. How can she say this with her son lying dead at home? Because her faith is not in her circumstances, but in her God. She is declaring that, despite the evidence, all will be well because God is in control. It is a refusal to let the visible reality dictate her confession.

4:24-25 Then she saddled a donkey and said to her young man, “Drive and go; do not hold back the pace of the ride for me unless I tell you.” So she went and came to the man of God to Mount Carmel.

Her faith is not a passive resignation; it is a driving force. "Drive and go; do not hold back." She is pressing on with all haste. There is an urgency born of a desperate hope. She is not meandering; she is on a mission. She knows where help is to be found, and she will let nothing slow her down.

4:26 Please run now to meet her and say to her, ‘Is it well with you? Is it well with your husband? Is it well with the child?’ ” And she answered, “It is well.”

Elisha sees her from a distance and sends Gehazi, his servant, with the standard greeting. The threefold question covers the whole of her life: you, your husband, your child. It is a comprehensive inquiry into her shalom. And again, for the second time, she makes the good confession: "It is well." She says this to the servant, the intermediary. She is saving her true plea for the man of God himself. She will not pour out her heart to a subordinate. But her confession remains steadfast. This is a woman whose faith is a shield, guarding her heart and her words even in the furnace of affliction.

4:27 Then she came to the man of God to the hill and took hold of his feet. And Gehazi came near to push her away; but the man of God said, “Let her alone, for her soul is bitter within her; and Yahweh has hidden it from me and has not told me.”

When she finally reaches Elisha, her composure breaks. She grabs his feet in a gesture of desperate supplication. Gehazi, ever the officious functionary, tries to maintain decorum and push her away. But Elisha understands. He sees past the breach of etiquette to the raw anguish. "Her soul is bitter." And he makes a crucial admission: "Yahweh has hidden it from me." This is important. Prophets are not omniscient. They are instruments, and God reveals to them what He chooses, when He chooses. Elisha is not operating out of his own power or insight.

4:28 Then she said, “Did I ask for a son from my lord? Did I not say, ‘Do not deceive me’?”

Here, the bitterness spills out. It is not a denial of faith, but an honest cry of pain. She reminds Elisha of the original promise. She had been content in her childlessness, and had even cautioned him against raising false hopes. Her words are a sharp reminder that this gift, now taken, was his idea, God's idea. The implication is clear: the one who initiated this must see it through. The one who gave the gift is responsible for it. It is a bold, anguished, but faith-filled appeal to God's own character and His past promises.

4:29 Then he said to Gehazi, “Gird up your loins and take my staff in your hand, and go... and lay my staff on the boy’s face.”

Elisha responds with urgency. He sends Gehazi with his staff, a symbol of his prophetic authority. The instructions are to go without any social delay, indicating the seriousness of the mission. The hope is that the authority of the prophet, represented by the staff, will be sufficient to accomplish the task. It is a test, both of Gehazi and of the nature of the miracle required.

4:30 But the mother of the boy said, “As Yahweh lives and as your soul lives, I will not forsake you.” And he arose and followed her.

The mother is not satisfied with a proxy. Her faith is not in the staff, but in the God of the man. She knows that a detached, second-hand intervention is not what this situation calls for. She binds Elisha with a solemn oath, "As Yahweh lives." She will not leave without him. This is not stubbornness but a profound spiritual intuition. She understands that this is a battle that requires the personal presence of God's anointed representative. Her faith compels Elisha to go himself.

4:31 Now Gehazi passed on before them and laid the staff on the boy’s face, but there was no sound or response. So he returned to meet him and told him, saying, “The boy has not awakened.”

The staff fails. Why? Because resurrection is not magic. It is not a power inherent in an object, to be wielded mechanically. Perhaps Gehazi lacked faith. Perhaps God intended to show that this kind of life-giving power cannot be delegated in this way. Whatever the reason, the lesson is clear: symbols of authority are useless without the personal presence and power of God. The law, represented by the staff laid on the face, cannot give life. Only the Spirit can.

4:32-33 Then Elisha came into the house, and behold, the boy was dead and laid on his bed. So he entered and shut the door behind them both and prayed to Yahweh.

Elisha arrives and confirms the reality: the boy is dead. He then does what the mother did earlier, and what must be done in the face of death. He isolates himself with the problem. He shuts the door, closing out all distractions and spectators. It is now just the prophet and the dead boy before God. And he does the one thing that is necessary: he "prayed to Yahweh." The power for resurrection comes not from human technique but from divine communication.

4:34 And he went up and lay on the child and put his mouth on his mouth and his eyes on his eyes and his hands on his hands, and he stretched himself on him; and the flesh of the child became warm.

This is a startling, intimate act. Elisha identifies completely with the dead child, pressing his own living body against the cold, lifeless one. Mouth to mouth, eye to eye, hand to hand. This is a picture of incarnation. Life is not imparted from a distance. The prophet pours his own warmth, his own life, into the vessel of death. And God honors this prayerful, desperate act. The first sign of victory appears: "the flesh of the child became warm." Life is returning.

4:35 Then he returned and walked in the house once back and forth, and went up and stretched himself on him; and the boy sneezed seven times and the boy opened his eyes.

The process is not instantaneous. Elisha walks, perhaps in continued prayer or anticipation. He then repeats the act of stretching himself over the boy. The climax comes with a violent expulsion of whatever was holding death in place. The boy sneezes seven times, the number of completion and perfection. It is a convulsive return to life. And then, the goal is reached: "the boy opened his eyes." He sees again. He lives again.

4:36-37 Then he called Gehazi and said, “Call this Shunammite.” So he called her. Then she came in to him, and he said, “Take up your son.” Then she came in and fell at his feet and bowed herself to the ground, and she took up her son and went out.

The restoration is complete. Elisha's words are simple, yet profoundly powerful: "Take up your son." The gift is restored. The mother's response is no longer the desperate clutch of grief, but the humble bow of worship. She falls at his feet not in supplication, but in overwhelming gratitude. She came with a dead son and a bitter soul. She leaves with a living son and a worshipping heart. She takes up her son, a tangible symbol of the power of her God over the grave, and goes out to resume her life, a life now forever marked by the reality of the resurrection.

Application

This story is for us. We live in a world where death has its say every day. Our promised gifts, our children, our health, our hopes, can be snatched away in a moment. The first lesson from the Shunammite is to refuse despair as the final response. When death strikes, our first move should be to take the problem and lay it on the bed of the Man of God, Jesus Christ. We must, by faith, place our impossible situations in His presence and under His authority.

Second, we learn the nature of a living faith. It is not quiet acceptance of tragedy. It is a stubborn, running, seeking, demanding faith. It says "It is well" not because it denies the pain, but because it affirms the power and goodness of God over the pain. It is a faith that is not put off by convention, by the questions of doubters, or by initial setbacks. It holds on, and refuses to let go until the blessing comes.

Finally, we are reminded that the answer to death is not a formula, a relic, or a ritual. The answer to death is a person. The staff did not work, but the prophet did. The law cannot give life, but the gospel can. Jesus Christ did not send a representative to deal with our sin and death; He came Himself. He stretched Himself out, not on a bed, but on a cross. He put His mouth in the dust of death for us. And because He did, He can now say to all who believe, "Take up your life." He is the resurrection and the life, and all who fall at His feet in faith will be raised up with Him.