A Dead Boy Opens His Eyes Text: 2 Kings 4:18-37
Introduction: Faith That Will Not Let Go
We live in a soft age. Our Christianity is often a mile wide and an inch deep, perfectly suited for a world of comfort, convenience, and manageable problems. We like a God who is a cosmic concierge, there to smooth out the wrinkles in our lives. But what happens when the fabric of life is not just wrinkled, but ripped violently in two? What happens when the gift God gave you, the promise He fulfilled, is snatched away without warning? What do you do when the laughter in your house is replaced by a deafening silence?
This is the world of our story. This is not a story for the faint of heart, and it is certainly not a story for sentimentalists. It is a story about a woman whose faith was forged in the fire of an impossible grief. It is about a God who gives, a God who takes away, and a God who gives back again in a way that shatters the finality of the tomb. This woman, the Shunammite, is a portrait of tenacious, muscular, covenant faith. She does not weep in a corner. She does not curse her fate. She saddles a donkey and runs straight into the heart of the problem.
We are going to see the difference between true faith and second-hand religion. We are going to see the difference between a symbol of power and the personal presence of the God of power. And we are going to see a stunning, Old Testament preview of the central event in all of human history: the resurrection of the dead. This is not just a touching story about a boy coming back to life. It is a theological thunderclap, revealing the character of God and the kind of faith He honors. It shows us that for the people of God, death is not a period at the end of the sentence. It is a comma.
The Text
Then the child was grown. And the day came that he went out to his father to the reapers. And he said to his father, "My head, my head." And he said to his young man, "Carry him to his mother." Then he carried him and brought him to his mother, and he sat on her knees until noon, and then died. Then she went up and laid him on the bed of the man of God and shut the door behind him and went out. 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." And he said, "Why will you go to him today? It is neither new moon nor sabbath." And she said, "It is well." 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. Now it happened that when the man of God saw her at a distance, he said to Gehazi his young man, "Behold, there is the Shunammite. 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." 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." Then she said, "Did I ask for a son from my lord? Did I not say, 'Do not deceive me'?" Then he said to Gehazi, "Gird up your loins and take my staff in your hand, and go; if you meet anyone, do not greet him, and if anyone greets you, do not answer him; and lay my staff on the boy's face." 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. 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." 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. 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. 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. 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.
(2 Kings 4:18-37 LSB)
Sudden Grief, Singular Focus (vv. 18-21)
The story opens with brutal speed. The promised child, the miracle son, is now grown enough to go out to the fields with his father.
"And he said to his father, 'My head, my head.' And he said to his young man, 'Carry him to his mother.' Then he carried him and brought him to his mother, and he sat on her knees until noon, and then died." (2 Kings 4:19-20)
Just like that. A sunstroke, a brain aneurysm, we do not know. The text is sparse because the details do not matter. What matters is the result: the promise is dead. The child she held on her lap, the answer to her barrenness, breathes his last. What is her response? It is not hysteria. It is not a collapse into despair. Her response is immediate, deliberate, and full of a staggering, unspoken faith.
She takes her dead son, goes up to the room she had built for Elisha, and lays the boy on the bed of the man of God. Then she shuts the door and goes out. This is a profound act of faith. She is not just getting the body out of the way. She is taking the problem, this impossible, heartbreaking problem, and she is placing it squarely in the jurisdiction of God's authority. She is laying her dead promise on the bed of the promise-giver's representative. She is, in effect, saying, "This is your department. This is your problem now." She shuts the door, containing the crisis and refusing to let it spill out into faithless wailing. She has a plan.
A Faith That Rides (vv. 22-26)
Her plan involves a donkey and a desperate ride. She calls to her husband for supplies.
"And he said, 'Why will you go to him today? It is neither new moon nor sabbath.' And she said, 'It is well.'" (2 Kings 4:23)
Her husband's response is telling. He thinks in terms of the religious calendar. His framework is ordinary time, ordinary worship. But his wife understands that a covenant crisis transcends the normal schedule. She does not have time for a theological debate. She gives him a one-line answer that has echoed through the centuries: "It is well." In Hebrew, it is one word: Shalom. Peace.
Is she lying? Is she in denial? Not at all. This is one of the most robust declarations of faith in all of Scripture. She is not saying, "It is well with the circumstances." The circumstances are catastrophic. She is saying, "It is well with my soul." She is declaring that her ultimate standing before the covenant-keeping God is secure, and because He is God, He can and will make this situation right. It is a confession of faith in the face of all contrary evidence. She tells her servant to ride hard and not to slow down. This is not a leisurely trip; this is a spiritual emergency.
When Elisha's servant Gehazi meets her with the standard, polite greeting, "Is it well with you? Is it well with your husband? Is it well with the child?" she gives the same answer: "It is well." She refuses to be sidetracked by pleasantries or to entrust her crisis to a subordinate. She must get to the man of God himself.
No Proxies Allowed (vv. 27-31)
When she finally reaches Elisha, the dam of her composure breaks. She falls and grabs his feet. This is raw, desperate, unvarnished grief.
"Let her alone, for her soul is bitter within her; and Yahweh has hidden it from me and has not told me... Did I ask for a son from my lord? Did I not say, 'Do not deceive me'?" (2 Kings 4:27-28)
Notice two things. First, Elisha admits his own dependence. God had not revealed this to him. Prophets are not omniscient; they are instruments. Second, the woman's charge is a covenant lawsuit. She is saying, "I did not ask for this. You, as God's man, initiated this promise. To give me a son only to take him away feels like a cruel deception." She is holding God accountable to His own character and His own word.
Elisha's first response is to delegate. He tells Gehazi to take his staff, go quickly, and lay it on the boy's face. This is an attempt at a solution-by-proxy. The staff is the symbol of the prophet's authority. But the woman will have none of it. "As Yahweh lives and as your soul lives, I will not forsake you." She knows instinctively that a stick is not enough. She needs the man. She needs the personal presence of God's power, not just a religious artifact.
And she is right. Gehazi goes, applies the staff, and the result is nothing. "The boy has not awakened." This is a permanent lesson for the church. We are always tempted to send Gehazi with the staff. We are tempted to think that our programs, our techniques, our traditions, our symbols of power can do the work. But resurrection power is not transferable through objects. It requires the personal, prayerful, engaged presence of God's people. Formalism is impotent in the face of death.
Incarnational Power (vv. 32-35)
So Elisha goes himself. He enters the room, sees the dead boy on his bed, and shuts the door behind them both. The first thing he does is pray to Yahweh.
"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." (2 Kings 4:34)
This is a strange and wonderful scene. This is not a sterile, distant miracle. This is messy, intimate, and deeply personal. Elisha identifies with the boy's death. He stretches his living body over the dead one, mouth to mouth, life to death. This is a profound picture of incarnational ministry. It is a foreshadowing of the gospel itself. Jesus Christ did not shout salvation to us from heaven. He came down. He took on our flesh. He stretched Himself out on a cross, identifying with our sin and our death, putting His mouth to our mouth, His life to our death, and breathing into us the breath of eternal life.
The work is arduous. The boy's flesh becomes warm, but he is not yet alive. Elisha gets up, paces the house, and then goes back and stretches himself out on the boy again. This is a struggle. And then, victory. "The boy sneezed seven times and the boy opened his eyes." The number seven in Scripture is the number of completion, of perfection. Life has been fully and completely restored. The enemy has been defeated.
Take Up Your Son (vv. 36-37)
The conclusion is beautiful in its simplicity.
"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.'" (2 Kings 4:36)
The gift is restored. The promise is alive again. And what is the mother's response? Before she rushes to her son, she falls at Elisha's feet and bows to the ground. Her first act is worship. She understands where this life has come from. She receives her son back not as her possession, but as a gift, twice-given, from the God who is sovereign over the grave. Her faith has been vindicated in the most glorious way imaginable.
Conclusion: Our Resurrection Hope
This story is our story. We were all that child, dead in our trespasses and sins, laid out on a cold slab. No religious ritual, no second-hand staff could help us. There was no sound or response. We needed a greater Elisha to come into the room.
And He came. The Lord Jesus Christ did not send an angel with a staff. He came Himself. He shut the door of the tomb behind Him for three days. He stretched Himself out on the cross, identifying completely with our death. He took our death into His body so that He could give us His life. And He rose again, having sneezed, as it were, a final and complete victory over the grave.
And now He says to all who will believe, to all who, like the Shunammite, will run to Him and cling to His feet, "Take up your son. Take up your daughter." He speaks resurrection life into us. Therefore, when tragedy strikes, when our most cherished promises seem to die, we have a pattern to follow. We do not despair. We place the dead thing on the bed of the Man of God. We run to Christ. We refuse all cheap substitutes. And we hold fast to that covenant promise, declaring in the face of all darkness, "It is well." Because He who died and rose again is our shalom, and in Him, death has lost its sting.