Women in white raiment

by John Lemley

But our story runs on. The wicked Ahab had died, and Jehoram, his son, reigned in his stead. The great hero, prophet of the kingdom of the ten tribes, had also passed over the Jordan, and somewhere among the valleys, overshadowed by the lofty dome of Nebo, the “chariot of fire and horses of fire” came down and translated the first and greatest of the prophets. His mantle, however, fell upon Elisha, the son of Shaphat. Elisha had scarcely returned from the land of Moab, whither he had gone to relieve the armies of Jehoshaphat, king of Judah, out of the horrors of a water famine, when there met him a certain widow of the wives of the sons of the prophets, and cried unto him in her distress. Of what particular prophet she was the widow the record does not state, nor is her name given. Josephus and the rabbis will have it that she was the widow of Obadiah, who, they think, had exhausted his fortune in the provision for the persecuted prophets in the time of the drought, in the reign of Ahab, when, faithful to God, amidst the splendors of Ahab’s corrupt court, he hid such of the prophets as escaped out of the hands of Jezebel, the wicked queen, hid them in caves, feeding them on bread and water through the sore distress of the three years’ famine, and so had fallen into debt, basing their claim upon the woman’s statement that her husband “feared the Lord,” which is also stated in respect to Obadiah. But whether she was the widow of Obadiah or not, she was greatly in need, and, in her distress, appealed to Elisha, who was the acknowledged head of the prophetic school.

But what a calamity had come into her widowhood! Her husband had not only been taken from her by death, but now, after bravely struggling to provide for her family, the creditors had come to take her two sons to be bondsmen. If that will not touch a mother’s heart we do not know what will. And so she hastens away to relieve her burdened heart in the ears of the sympathizing prophet. He listened to her story, and then asked, “What hast thou in the house?”

What a question to ask a mother whose sons were about to be sold into slavery for debts! What could she have of value she would not gladly dispose of to save her children?

She answered, “Thine handmaid hath not anything in the house!” Not anything? Oh yes, there is “a pot of oil.” She was in a more deplorable condition than the widow of Sarepta, for she, aside from the cruse of oil, had a “handful of meal.” But this one was entirely destitute, even of the oil so essential in the preparation of food—she had only a little pot for anointing purposes. But even this was enough for God and faith to work on.

“Go,” said Elisha, “borrow thee vessels abroad of all thy neighbors, even empty vessels; borrow not a few.” Comforted in her heart, she went home and told her anxious sons what the prophet had said. “It is vessels you want, is it mother?” “Yes,” she answered, the prophet said, “borrow not a few!”

So all that morning, and far into the afternoon, the widow’s sons were calling on their neighbors for empty vessels, crocks, great waterpots, casks, firkins, in short, anything that would hold oil. As the boys were going empty-handed down the streets and returning loaded with vessels, the people began to wonder what that poor widow of the prophet should want of so many vessels, especially as it was known that she had nothing in her house. But the boys kept at their work until every neighbor was borrowed empty, and her house looked more like a depot for freight, than a poor woman’s cottage. All the rooms were filled, the open court was filled, and all the approaches were filled. The widow’s sons, if their industry in borrowing and carrying home vessels would save them from being sold into slavery, they certainly would escape out of the hands of their mother’s creditor, for was there ever such a sight of empty vessels! And not until there were no more to be borrowed did they cease from their work.

And now the supreme moment came. The prophet had told her, after the vessels were all in, she should shut the door upon herself and upon her sons. Only her boys should be witnesses to the mighty deliverances of God. The locking of the door had no other object than to keep aloof every interruption from without. The action in question was not an ordinary, simply external, operation, but an act which was to be performed by the command of the man of God, and with the heart directed towards God, that is, in faith, so that it was to be completed, not in the noise and distraction of everyday life, but in quietness and solitude. And we may also well believe she first asked God’s blessing upon her undertaking, so far carried on in faith, for though her house was full of vessels, they were all as yet empty.

The prayer ended, she took down her ointment jar—and Oh, it was such a very little pot! Holding it in her hand, she told her oldest son to bring one of the smallest jars, for how could the little vessel in her hand fill even the smallest of the borrowed utensils? As she tipped the little pot, the golden stream began to flow, and it kept on flowing until the vessel was filled to the brim, to the utter astonishment of herself and sons. This one filled, another was quickly brought. And as the oil flowed, the poor woman’s faith grew, and the sweat was now rolling down the faces of her sons as they brought up the empty vessels, and removed the full ones. Her face fairly shone as she filled the last vessel, and in her excitement cried out, “Bring me yet a vessel!” “Why, mother,” both the sons speaking at once, “there is not a vessel more!” So when the last was filled to the brim, “the oil stayed.”

As she looked over the sea of vessels all filled to the brim with golden oil, out of the gladness of her heart she hastened to tell Elisha what had happened at her house. She had oil in her vessels and thanksgiving in her heart, and she must tell it out, and who was better prepared to share her joy than the prophet who had listened to the story of her distress.

And he said, “Go, sell the oil, and pay thy debt.” The religion that comes from heaven looks well after its creditors. The debt was paid, her sons were spared to her, and a surplus was left for them to live upon.