“Give me another jar,” her voice trembled as she reached out her hand. The small flask of oil she held in her other hand was heavy with oil. She shook her head as yet another clay jar was filled with the golden liquid. Again and again, the woman stretched out her hand for the clay vessels that her sons kept bringing her. The last jar was placed before her and she poured from her flask until the container could hold no more. Finally, her little bottle of oil was empty in her hand.
She sat back laughing and then crying as she reflected on the day leading up to this crazy moment. The morning had started with a sharp rapping on her door. The greedy-eyed man on the other side of it reminded her that her husband had owed him money, and though the accident that took his life had been unfortunate, it had not cancelled his debt. The man cast his gaze over the small room with its meager furnishing before settling on her two boys sitting quietly in the corner.
“I can take your sons as payment,” he declared. It seemed like her blood had turned to ice in her veins as her mouth flew open. Instinctively, she moved between the boys and his steely gaze. Her begging fell on deaf ears as he turned away with the promise that he would be back to collect either his money or his new slaves by the end of the week.
Her husband had been a good man, though not always a shrewd businessman. When times had been lean, he had taken out loans to make ends meet. He had to make sure his wife and two sons had what they needed to live. The accident that had taken his life felt like it had taken part of her as well. Days of selling off their belongings to purchase food for her boys had left them with little in their sparse home.
Tears were not going to fix her situation, she decided. The woman quickly washed her face and gathered her boys close. She whispered prayers as she clutched their hands and walked down the dusty path to the house where she knew Elisha the prophet was staying. Gathering her courage, she knocked on the door. Though she felt out of place, the man of God welcomed them into the room where he was sitting. Her voice wavered as she explained her dilemma to the attentive prophet.
“What do you have?” he asked. She looked at him blankly and shook her head. She wasn’t sure what he meant. She didn’t have anything left, no money, nothing of any resale value. Tears stung her eyes as she admitted that she was not even going to be able to feed her children that day. She didn’t have anything left but a small jar of oil sitting on her countertop. A smile spread across Elisha’s face and he gave her the strange instructions.
The woman did just what he told her to do. She had gone to all her neighbors and family members, borrowing vessels of every size and shape. Large clay pots, small bottles, pans, bowls, anything that would hold oil was just what she wanted. Finally with a room full of empty jars, she closed the door and turned to her boys. She touched their faces gently and told them again how much they were loved. Now it was time for God to show all of them how much He loved them. She picked up her oil jar and began pouring, and pouring, and pouring.
This miracle is recorded in the book of 2 Kings 4. God multiplied the woman’s oil until every vessel she had gathered was full. By the time she had finished pouring out her oil, she had more than enough to sell to pay her debt. The price it fetched at the market was enough for her and her boys to live on for quite some time.
There are so many threads that we can trace throughout this narrative. It is a testimony to the power of God to supply the needs of those who trust Him. It speaks of the accuracy of the prophetic ministry to know what the Lord intended to do and instruct the woman on how to partner with Him. It shows us that God can use anything anywhere to do what He desires to do. Mostly though, this is a powerful demonstration of God’s love for the one who trusted Him.
But can I be transparent with you? I read these lines and I see my own story. I was that woman with two young sons, and my husband had walked out of our home and our lives forever. I wept and prayed. How could I raise my boys alone? How was I going to be able to keep paying mortgages, car payments, and electric bills without help? I felt weak and powerless in the face of rejection. The future was a fearful threat in front of me. I did the only thing I knew to do. I ran to God and found that He was waiting for me when I got there.
Night after night, I would come in from work and prepare dinner for my boys. I would listen to them chatter about their day, cartoons, video games, whatever they wanted to talk about. I would put on a load of laundry and slip away to my bedroom to pray. There on the wooden floor, I cried hot tears of desperation and whispered prayers of surrender and trust. The Lord never failed to meet me there. He came in earth-shaking power and filled my prayer closet with wonder. He held my heart and poured the oil of His presence into my empty vessel until my sorrow was eased. Then He waited while I poured out the oil of my worship on Him.
Slowly but surely, the Lord met my every need in that humble prayer closet and healed my wounded heart. I am not sure of the exact moment my healing was complete, only that He had done it Himself. All I did was close my door and pray. My desperate faith found the same glorious God responding to me that this woman with her little cruse of oil had encountered behind her closed door. This is my story.
I am not sure what your story looks like today. I hope it is a bright and beautiful place full of blessing that you are living. However, if you are wounded and wondering how life can go on, let me give you some advice. Go to your private place and close the door on you and God. When you offer Him your empty vessel, He will fill it. Trust me.
Pray with me?
Father, we come to You in faith. We know You will fill our empty vessels. We turn our eyes to You expectantly and gaze in wonder at Who You are. Come and fellowship with us deeply. You are our greatest need. We ask this in Jesus’ name.
