Elisha & The Widow’s oil

My husband was a proud man and for the life of me, I couldn’t understand why. He was good, kind, committed, and devoted and he worshiped God with all his heart, which I loved him for, but he was as stubborn as an angry ox!

I mean I loved that he was a strong believer, in God, in himself, in his children, in life, in me. I loved that he saw the world in a very beautiful and trusting way, but why couldn’t he just accept defeat and ask for help, just admit that we couldn’t afford to educate the boys or let me help out, no, he went ahead to borrow money from other people and left me to his debt…

Now my sons could pay for it, my sweet boys.

Joseph, my first-born son, as active and zealous as his father, he had more strength than he needed. He would do his school work, his share of his house chores, his little brother’s share, run all the errands I had to run and also go help out in the temple with his dad. He soaked in every bit of the good message he heard, he followed the exact path of his dad and the prophets. My husband always said he would grow up to be a prophet, and I never doubted it a day, I knew he would grow up and command kings, perform miracles and raise armies like prophets.

 My second-born son, Jude, Oh the close of my womb, is the sweetest child ever. He is love itself. His entire being is filled with love, even in his young age, he shows love better than I do, better than anyone I know. I remember the day he fell to the ground on the way back from the well and broke one of my water pots, he didn’t cry like other kids would, he ran home to me and hugged me tight, he held me like close and broke the news with an apology sweetly into my ears, rocking me from side to side like he was the comforter and I was the injured. I found out that night while I sponged his little body that he had a big sore on his knee from the accident…

I was so I angry I could feel my whole body tremble, but I couldn’t stop now, I had to get to the prophet, I had to ask for help, I couldn’t lose my awesome sons to angry creditors, they didn’t deserve it. Loosing my husband was enough…

I lifted up my hands to wipe out the tears gathering in my eyes,

‘the prophet would surely help, he certainly will,’ I thought as I wiped my eyes and looked back up, walking closer to the Synagogue, I could see it now, clear as dawn and my hope was heightened,

‘the prophet would help’ I repeated to myself as I got to the Synagogue.

 The familiar smell of incense burning told me there was a service, meeting or sacrifice going on and as much as I was filled with hope, the urgency in my Spirit was greater, I could blame my husband for that, He lived every moment with all the life he had… until he ran out of life.

‘Was that what happened to him God?, was that why you took your faithful servant away and left me to mourn?’

 I could feel the tears coming in again, so I walked into the empty synagogue and took a seat at the back, the section kept for nursing mothers, young brides and widows, it seemed fitting, I had been in these pews since my husband joined the company of the prophet some years ago, Oh how he loved this place, how he loved the Lord! I could see him clearly, reading from the Holy book in the presence of the saints, with strong conviction in his voice, his right hand raised theatrically and his left arm hugging the book like a newborn baby. He believed every word that was contained in the book, he believed we had abundance and we were blessed. He believed in the special anointing of God, I wish I could say I believed God as much as he did but I just believed him.

When we had next to nothing, I believed him. When he wouldn’t allow me join the company of traders and earn a living because he was so sure of the blessings and provision of God for us, I believed him. So I served in the Synagogue alongside him but now he was gone, leaving his belief with me.

I lifted my hands up with a shout of grief, crying out to the God he served and as though my voice was heard from the inner rooms of the Sanctuary, Prophet Elisha came out, his face filled with concern or alarm? I didn’t wait to confirm, I ran to him and knelt at his feet, clutching his leg in my arms, my tears were unstoppable now, I didn’t hold myself back like I had done since he died, my sons were not here, I didn’t need to hold back, so I wept at his feet, pouring all my worries and concerns there. I could barely contain the words that came in this moment of pain.

“My husband is dead!” I declared like I was announcing again again submitting myself to the console of the prophet. The prophet came to meet me on the floor and led me back to the seats, holding my hands, softly in his, validating my grief… like he grieved my husband too. I looked up to his concerned face, finally calming my loud cries and with the steadiest voice I could find, I said

“Your servant, my husband is dead, and you know that your servant feared the Lord; but the creditor is coming to take my two sons to be his slaves in payment for a loan.”

Tears were still streaking down my face as I said this but I kept my eyes on him, my hands holding his now, I wasn’t leaving here without an answer, any answer from him.

And with compassion in his eyes, Prophet Elisha responded to me “What shall I do for you? Tell me, what do you have of value in the house?”

I was shocked at first for a moment, was he asking me for an offering? but I looked into his face again, I knew he wanted to help. Maybe he wanted to help me trade it at an auction, get higher value for an item, that must be it, so I started thinking through all our belongings and couldn’t think of anything of value…. Then I remembered the small jar of olive oil, the one my husband boasted was of the topmost quality, he said he got the oil directly from the farms of the Greek. That would definitely cost a lot, I just had to convince the prophet of it.

“Prophet, Your maidservant has nothing in the house, except a small jar of olive oil.” I replied, looking at him still for mercy, knowing his next words would be the answer to me.

He looked up for a moment, then he was looking at me again, looking… peaceful, joyful… I couldn’t tell, he said

“Go home, get your sons, borrow containers from all your neighbors, big, empty containers—and not just a few, as much as you can find.  Then you all go back into your house and shut the door behind you and your sons, letting no one else in, and pour out the olive oil you have into all these containers, and you will set aside each container when it is full.”

I had questions, a lot of them, I stared at him in confusion, I knew miracles happened, I had seen some but he probably didn’t hear me, it is just a jar of oil I have o, how will… could it… can it… Did I hear him right?

“Prophet…”

“Go home now” He said, the most reassuring look in his face, that was what drew me on my feet and through the run home. I didn’t wait to think anymore, I just wanted to remember all he said and do it. I had to believe, I had to do anything to save my boys, to save myself.

Getting home, I checked first for the jar of oil, carefully hidden in my outbox, I brought it out and kept it in a safe place beneath my bed, after which I called out to my sons.

“Joe! Jude!” I called, all the urgency in my voice

“Mama, we’re here” Joe answered, he was old enough to understand the angry men that came visiting earlier, he had been in his room with his brother, I could see the fear in his eyes. I drew them both in, I had to show faith.

“Come here” I pulled them in a hug kissing their heads and muttering as much words of love and assurance as I could but I couldn’t stay for long, I had an assignment, so drawing them out, I started.

“I need you both to listen to me and do exactly as I would tell you, Go to all our neighbor’s house and ask them for their spare containers, be convincing, tell them your mother needs them, plead for them, get as many containers as possible and bring them home as soon as possible” I finished, looking them both in the eyes, expecting questions but

“Okay mom!” Jude said for the first time since I came back, his eyes beaming, glad for the adventure, Joe just looked at me with a little smile and led his brother out of the house.

I set out to our kitchens and bathrooms and started emptying jars, containers, bottles, bowls. I knew what I thought sounded absurd but I didn’t listen to that voice, my life depended on this. I threw out the water in our containers, cleaning them with dried towels, ready to receive oil, I reminded myself of the many miracles I heard being preached in the Tabernacle, manna from heaven, meat in the desert, parting of the Red Sea, rain of fire from heaven consuming a sacrifice drenched in water, testimonies from the sick being healed, the dead raised back to life, the widow in Zarephath. God could open up the heavens and cause my house to overflow with oil and I have to get ready for that.

My sons came in time and time again, bringing more containers than I had seen together in a while, and when they had brought in the last one, I shut the door behind them, went to fetch the jar of oil and in the living room, opened up the jar and poured the oil into vessels after vessels, containers after containers, bottles after bottles, bowls after bowls, jars after jars

When the containers were all full, I said to Joe, “Bring me another container.” He had been the one pulling out the full containers and placing new ones.

 “There is not one left.” He responded, his mouth curved in the happiest grin I’d ever seen.

Then the oil stopped pouring. 

“Go, sell the oil and pay your debt, and you and your sons can live on the rest.”

I left the presence of Elisha, still in shock, my mind filled with the image of my house full of oil in different containers, more than we knew what to do with.

“…Live on the rest?” I muttered, was I supposed to build another heaven to build and live in with my sons? The Oil could definitely afford that, it was a lot! God has blessed me! My husband said it, he believed it and it came to pass. How could I feel, how could I thank God? I’m not the faithful one, how did he find me worthy?

I got home to meet my sons waiting for me outside, curious to hear the response of the prophet and I almost wept because I knew we were not alone, my husband didn’t leave us and This God would never leave us too.

I ran the rest of the road to my sons and hugged them with all the strength and emotion I found in me.

God saved us, God saved us.

In my little words,

Choice