No Turning Back
Elisha ran his sleeve across his dripping brow and squinted into the bright, mid-afternoon sun. Scanning the field, he quickly accounted for each of his eleven other teams and their drivers, as well as the handful of other workers scattered around the field. That done, he looked down to the servant who was raising a flask toward him which Elisha knew would be filled with fresh water from the nearby well. Taking it, he thanked the man, pulled the plug from the vessel’s mouth, and lifted it to his lips. The cool liquid which filled his mouth and ran down his chin and neck until it soaked his tunic was far more than just refreshing.
It was like life being poured directly into his body.
“How are we doing?” he asked the man who waited for the water flask to be returned.
“There are four hours yet until sundown, sir,” his trusted foreman, Gehazi, answered casually, looking about to survey the situation for himself. “If nothing breaks down and the teams keep pushing this hard, we should be able to finish before it gets too dark.”
Elisha frowned. He hated keeping the men out after sundown. His father had taught him that family was far more important than plowing a field. But he hated even more the idea of having to haul everything out just to finish this one last field tomorrow. So, grunting, he tossed the flask back and said, “I want to have everything in the shed by dusk.” Then, with a twitch of the reigns, he called, “Hup hup,” and the team of oxen yoked to his plow lurched slowly forward.
Oxen were far from the fastest creatures on the earth, Elisha mused as the team turned into the last field where his other eleven hitches had already made their way to the far side and were now working their way back toward him. But recalling the days when he was younger and his father Shaphat and he toiled all day to plow a single field with a mule and an old, single-row plow, he marveled at their power and efficiency. Now, each team of oxen pulled a larger, heavier, two-row plow which sliced with relative ease through the soil, and Elisha and his men were actually able to stand on a small platform and ride as they turned the soil across twenty-five vast fields in a single day.
Dutifully, the beasts turned and plodded, paralleling the road which headed on away from town. And slowly, they pulled Elisha in that direction, too.
About halfway there, though, Elisha was aware of a man walking alongside him. Glancing down, he was surprised to find that it was not one of his servants, but a stranger. For an instant, this seemed odd; Elisha’s fields were not on the main road, but a narrow path which led, ultimately, off into the middle of nowhere, but he was busy, and there were a few farms out beyond his. Perhaps this man was headed to one of them, but as Elisha continued, he realized that the traveler was not just walking. If he were, he could have easily passed the slow-moving oxen.
No, he had slowed so that he was merely keeping pace.
And now, as Elisha glanced at him again, quickly, he thought the man was not a stranger at all, but indeed at least vaguely familiar. So he glanced a third time, and an instant later, a fourth, hoping to figure out who this was. When he glanced again, though, the man was gone.
Suddenly, something draped across his right shoulder. And then his left.
Startled, Elisha tugged the reigns, bringing the oxen to an abrupt stop, and wheeled about. When he did, though, the stranger was already back on the path, but now heading back toward town at a much more substantial pace.
Puzzled, he looked at the cloth which had been thrown across his shoulders. There was something very familiar about it, if only he could place it. The mantle was a dusty white, with a deep red stripe about two inches from either side and tassels on each end. Immediately, Elisha recognized it as the shawl of a priest or a teacher, but what would someone like that be doing all the way out here? What would one of them want with Elisha?
Then recognition dawned. This was not just the shawl of any priest or teacher. No, this was the mantle of a prophet whom Elisha had seen!
How could he have forgotten? It had been the single most amazing thing Elisha had ever beheld! This was the man who had commanded the heavens to close and the rains to stop! After a couple of years of drought, Elisha and all of his neighbors had all but given up on yet another planting season. Many had realized that the drought was an act of God and complained and grumbled, wondering why He would do such a thing to His people. But Elisha had known that God had warned that famine would come if Israel ever drifted away to worship other gods. And so, while the others complained, he had prayed. And torn down the altars his father and his father before him had built.
Strangely, though he had been far from rich by any standard, ever since he had done that, Elisha had been able to at least make a meager living. It had been far more than his friends or neighbors had managed; he had been able to expand his fields even as many of them were selling theirs.
But then, two months ago, news had spread like wildfire that the drought was coming to an end. Eight hundred of the prophets of Baal were gathering near the sea to sacrifice and pray for rain. They were going to show the one remaining prophet of this so-called God, and all Israel - Elisha included - turned out to see.
He remembered watching as the priests of Baal started their chanting. Then came the dancing. Then the wailing. After hours with no rain, they had brought out chains and whips, and even swords, and begun beating and cutting themselves in the hopes that Baal would answer somehow. But the longer Elisha had watched, the more certain he grew that it was not at all a matter of what Baal would do. Baal could not rain fire down on the offering which lay in a heap in the middle of this multitude of “prophets.” Baal could not bring rain at all.
As the sun had grown lower - probably about where it was now, Elisha recalled - the prophet of God had called for water to be poured out on his offering. Elisha had been near the front, and so he had volunteered to go. It had been a quarter-mile to the sea where he filled his jar and brought it back, pouring it over the prophet’s bull. Three times. Then the prophet had turned and prayed quietly, and Boom! Fire had rained down from heaven, and in the blink of an eye, all that remained of the offering had been a ring of absolutely scorched earth!
The rain had indeed come that night, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind which god had brought them.
But what was the prophet’s name?
For days after the show, people had talked about him incessantly. There were reported sightings in almost every portion of the northern kingdom. But it soon became clear that these were mere fancy, and within a couple of weeks, with the rain now falling, such talk drifted from the silent, missing prophet back to more pressing matters: planting season.
The mantle across Elisha’s shoulders, though, was undeniably no mere fancy.
Elijah!
That was the prophet’s name!
And the mantle meant that he wanted Elisha - Elisha! - to follow him!
“Hey, wait!” Elisha cried without thinking, taking off after the man. He had to run to catch him; Elijah was startlingly fast. But about the time Elisha caught him, the prophet had turned back with a curious look on his face. Reaching him, the farmer huffed, “Just let me say good bye to my parents quick, tell them where I’m going, and I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you!”
Elijah shook his head and said, “Go on back, for what have I done to you?”
What had he done for Elisha? Was the man kidding? Drought, fire, and rain... God Himself answered Elijah’s prayer!
Immediately, Elisha spun around and rushed back to his plow. Wasting no time, he produced the small toolbox which he always carried and started tearing the thing apart.
Gehazi was on the scene a moment later, crying, “What are you doing? Who was that man?”
Elisha looked up just long enough to acknowledge his friend and servant, and answer, “Elijah.”
“The prophet?” Gehazi asked. “What did he want?” Elisha pointed quickly at the garment laid across his shoulders, and Gehazi, immediately recognizing the meaning of such a gesture, demanded, “What are you going to do?”
Elisha did not answer the question, but rather grunted, “Find me some matches.”
With practiced hands, he tore the plow apart and stacked it, the yokes, reigns, and everything else into a pile. And then, leading the oxen to it, he slaughtered them with a single motion. The two beasts staggered and then fell directly upon the lumber, and as soon as Gehazi returned, Elisha lit a great bonfire.
By this time, the other men had noticed that something was going on, and they and their teams had all drawn near. With the fire going, Elisha rose and turned to them. “Oh, great!” the man exclaimed. “All of you, break down your plows and slaughter your teams. Then go get your families! We’re having steaks tonight!”
Puzzled, the men all considered their master with curious looks. Such behavior was not at all usual, and the plowing was not yet done! “Why?” one managed to ask. “What’s going on?”
Elisha looked at the man and, with a smile that comes from certain resolve, answered, “I’m done farming.”
Objective: Convince believers to make a firm decision to embrace all that God has for them as part of His redemptive plan and to make sure that they never go back again.
- We’re called in the midst (19-20).
- We’re called from where we are (“as he was plowing” (19 HCSB); Elijah did not find Elisha in church. He did not find Elisha from some Bible college. And he didn’t expect Elisha to go to these places before he called him, either! Rather, he found him in the field, doing what he did. When God calls us, it’s from wherever we are in life.).
- We’re called from what we have (“Twelve teams of oxen were in front of him, and he was with the twelfth team” (19 HCSB); “let me kiss my father and mother” (20 HCSB); It doesn’t matter what we have - or don’t have. When God calls us, it’s regardless of our possessions.).
- We’re called to follow (“Elisha left the oxen, ran to follow Elijah” (20 HCSB); When God calls us, His objective is that we would follow Him and leave everything else that hinders behind.).
- We must not turn back (21).
- We can turn back (“So he turned back from following him” (HCSB); It is entirely possible for us to choose to not obey the call - to not accept the freedom and power - which God has given us.).
- We must be decisive (“took the team of oxen, and slaughtered them” (HCSB); Because it’s entirely possible for us to turn back, it is essential that we make clean, decisive breaks from who, what, and where we were.).
- We must follow (“Then he left, followed Elijah, and served him” (HCSB); Our decision must be to leave the old behind and follow God, working to get as closely to Him as possible. And always, always, always, that means a life of service.).
- Illustration: In 1518, Hernan Cortes signed a contract with the Spanish king to initiate trade relations with the native tribes of coastal Mexico. When he extrapolated a mandate to conquer Mexico for Spain, several of his men, loyal to the governor of Cuba, who wanted to conquer Mexico himself, attempted a mutiny. In order to prevent further mutiny, Cortes ordered all but one of his ships sunk so that the men would have no choice but to proceed with him.
Elisha ran his sleeve across his dripping brow and squinted into the bright, mid-afternoon sun. Scanning the field, he quickly accounted for each of his eleven other teams and their drivers, as well as the handful of other workers scattered around the field. That done, he looked down to the servant who was raising a flask toward him which Elisha knew would be filled with fresh water from the nearby well. Taking it, he thanked the man, pulled the plug from the vessel’s mouth, and lifted it to his lips. The cool liquid which filled his mouth and ran down his chin and neck until it soaked his tunic was far more than just refreshing.
It was like life being poured directly into his body.
“How are we doing?” he asked the man who waited for the water flask to be returned.
“There are four hours yet until sundown, sir,” his trusted foreman, Gehazi, answered casually, looking about to survey the situation for himself. “If nothing breaks down and the teams keep pushing this hard, we should be able to finish before it gets too dark.”
Elisha frowned. He hated keeping the men out after sundown. His father had taught him that family was far more important than plowing a field. But he hated even more the idea of having to haul everything out just to finish this one last field tomorrow. So, grunting, he tossed the flask back and said, “I want to have everything in the shed by dusk.” Then, with a twitch of the reigns, he called, “Hup hup,” and the team of oxen yoked to his plow lurched slowly forward.
Oxen were far from the fastest creatures on the earth, Elisha mused as the team turned into the last field where his other eleven hitches had already made their way to the far side and were now working their way back toward him. But recalling the days when he was younger and his father Shaphat and he toiled all day to plow a single field with a mule and an old, single-row plow, he marveled at their power and efficiency. Now, each team of oxen pulled a larger, heavier, two-row plow which sliced with relative ease through the soil, and Elisha and his men were actually able to stand on a small platform and ride as they turned the soil across twenty-five vast fields in a single day.
Dutifully, the beasts turned and plodded, paralleling the road which headed on away from town. And slowly, they pulled Elisha in that direction, too.
About halfway there, though, Elisha was aware of a man walking alongside him. Glancing down, he was surprised to find that it was not one of his servants, but a stranger. For an instant, this seemed odd; Elisha’s fields were not on the main road, but a narrow path which led, ultimately, off into the middle of nowhere, but he was busy, and there were a few farms out beyond his. Perhaps this man was headed to one of them, but as Elisha continued, he realized that the traveler was not just walking. If he were, he could have easily passed the slow-moving oxen.
No, he had slowed so that he was merely keeping pace.
And now, as Elisha glanced at him again, quickly, he thought the man was not a stranger at all, but indeed at least vaguely familiar. So he glanced a third time, and an instant later, a fourth, hoping to figure out who this was. When he glanced again, though, the man was gone.
Suddenly, something draped across his right shoulder. And then his left.
Startled, Elisha tugged the reigns, bringing the oxen to an abrupt stop, and wheeled about. When he did, though, the stranger was already back on the path, but now heading back toward town at a much more substantial pace.
Puzzled, he looked at the cloth which had been thrown across his shoulders. There was something very familiar about it, if only he could place it. The mantle was a dusty white, with a deep red stripe about two inches from either side and tassels on each end. Immediately, Elisha recognized it as the shawl of a priest or a teacher, but what would someone like that be doing all the way out here? What would one of them want with Elisha?
Then recognition dawned. This was not just the shawl of any priest or teacher. No, this was the mantle of a prophet whom Elisha had seen!
How could he have forgotten? It had been the single most amazing thing Elisha had ever beheld! This was the man who had commanded the heavens to close and the rains to stop! After a couple of years of drought, Elisha and all of his neighbors had all but given up on yet another planting season. Many had realized that the drought was an act of God and complained and grumbled, wondering why He would do such a thing to His people. But Elisha had known that God had warned that famine would come if Israel ever drifted away to worship other gods. And so, while the others complained, he had prayed. And torn down the altars his father and his father before him had built.
Strangely, though he had been far from rich by any standard, ever since he had done that, Elisha had been able to at least make a meager living. It had been far more than his friends or neighbors had managed; he had been able to expand his fields even as many of them were selling theirs.
But then, two months ago, news had spread like wildfire that the drought was coming to an end. Eight hundred of the prophets of Baal were gathering near the sea to sacrifice and pray for rain. They were going to show the one remaining prophet of this so-called God, and all Israel - Elisha included - turned out to see.
He remembered watching as the priests of Baal started their chanting. Then came the dancing. Then the wailing. After hours with no rain, they had brought out chains and whips, and even swords, and begun beating and cutting themselves in the hopes that Baal would answer somehow. But the longer Elisha had watched, the more certain he grew that it was not at all a matter of what Baal would do. Baal could not rain fire down on the offering which lay in a heap in the middle of this multitude of “prophets.” Baal could not bring rain at all.
As the sun had grown lower - probably about where it was now, Elisha recalled - the prophet of God had called for water to be poured out on his offering. Elisha had been near the front, and so he had volunteered to go. It had been a quarter-mile to the sea where he filled his jar and brought it back, pouring it over the prophet’s bull. Three times. Then the prophet had turned and prayed quietly, and Boom! Fire had rained down from heaven, and in the blink of an eye, all that remained of the offering had been a ring of absolutely scorched earth!
The rain had indeed come that night, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind which god had brought them.
But what was the prophet’s name?
For days after the show, people had talked about him incessantly. There were reported sightings in almost every portion of the northern kingdom. But it soon became clear that these were mere fancy, and within a couple of weeks, with the rain now falling, such talk drifted from the silent, missing prophet back to more pressing matters: planting season.
The mantle across Elisha’s shoulders, though, was undeniably no mere fancy.
Elijah!
That was the prophet’s name!
And the mantle meant that he wanted Elisha - Elisha! - to follow him!
“Hey, wait!” Elisha cried without thinking, taking off after the man. He had to run to catch him; Elijah was startlingly fast. But about the time Elisha caught him, the prophet had turned back with a curious look on his face. Reaching him, the farmer huffed, “Just let me say good bye to my parents quick, tell them where I’m going, and I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you!”
Elijah shook his head and said, “Go on back, for what have I done to you?”
What had he done for Elisha? Was the man kidding? Drought, fire, and rain... God Himself answered Elijah’s prayer!
Immediately, Elisha spun around and rushed back to his plow. Wasting no time, he produced the small toolbox which he always carried and started tearing the thing apart.
Gehazi was on the scene a moment later, crying, “What are you doing? Who was that man?”
Elisha looked up just long enough to acknowledge his friend and servant, and answer, “Elijah.”
“The prophet?” Gehazi asked. “What did he want?” Elisha pointed quickly at the garment laid across his shoulders, and Gehazi, immediately recognizing the meaning of such a gesture, demanded, “What are you going to do?”
Elisha did not answer the question, but rather grunted, “Find me some matches.”
With practiced hands, he tore the plow apart and stacked it, the yokes, reigns, and everything else into a pile. And then, leading the oxen to it, he slaughtered them with a single motion. The two beasts staggered and then fell directly upon the lumber, and as soon as Gehazi returned, Elisha lit a great bonfire.
By this time, the other men had noticed that something was going on, and they and their teams had all drawn near. With the fire going, Elisha rose and turned to them. “Oh, great!” the man exclaimed. “All of you, break down your plows and slaughter your teams. Then go get your families! We’re having steaks tonight!”
Puzzled, the men all considered their master with curious looks. Such behavior was not at all usual, and the plowing was not yet done! “Why?” one managed to ask. “What’s going on?”
Elisha looked at the man and, with a smile that comes from certain resolve, answered, “I’m done farming.”
Elisha ran his sleeve across his dripping brow and squinted into the bright, mid-afternoon sun. Scanning the field, he quickly accounted for each of his eleven other teams and their drivers, as well as the handful of other workers scattered around the field. That done, he looked down to the servant who was raising a flask toward him which Elisha knew would be filled with fresh water from the nearby well. Taking it, he thanked the man, pulled the plug from the vessel’s mouth, and lifted it to his lips. The cool liquid which filled his mouth and ran down his chin and neck until it soaked his tunic was far more than just refreshing.
It was like life being poured directly into his body.
“How are we doing?” he asked the man who waited for the water flask to be returned.
“There are four hours yet until sundown, sir,” his trusted foreman, Gehazi, answered casually, looking about to survey the situation for himself. “If nothing breaks down and the teams keep pushing this hard, we should be able to finish before it gets too dark.”
Elisha frowned. He hated keeping the men out after sundown. His father had taught him that family was far more important than plowing a field. But he hated even more the idea of having to haul everything out just to finish this one last field tomorrow. So, grunting, he tossed the flask back and said, “I want to have everything in the shed by dusk.” Then, with a twitch of the reigns, he called, “Hup hup,” and the team of oxen yoked to his plow lurched slowly forward.
Oxen were far from the fastest creatures on the earth, Elisha mused as the team turned into the last field where his other eleven hitches had already made their way to the far side and were now working their way back toward him. But recalling the days when he was younger and his father Shaphat and he toiled all day to plow a single field with a mule and an old, single-row plow, he marveled at their power and efficiency. Now, each team of oxen pulled a larger, heavier, two-row plow which sliced with relative ease through the soil, and Elisha and his men were actually able to stand on a small platform and ride as they turned the soil across twenty-five vast fields in a single day.
Dutifully, the beasts turned and plodded, paralleling the road which headed on away from town. And slowly, they pulled Elisha in that direction, too.
About halfway there, though, Elisha was aware of a man walking alongside him. Glancing down, he was surprised to find that it was not one of his servants, but a stranger. For an instant, this seemed odd; Elisha’s fields were not on the main road, but a narrow path which led, ultimately, off into the middle of nowhere, but he was busy, and there were a few farms out beyond his. Perhaps this man was headed to one of them, but as Elisha continued, he realized that the traveler was not just walking. If he were, he could have easily passed the slow-moving oxen.
No, he had slowed so that he was merely keeping pace.
And now, as Elisha glanced at him again, quickly, he thought the man was not a stranger at all, but indeed at least vaguely familiar. So he glanced a third time, and an instant later, a fourth, hoping to figure out who this was. When he glanced again, though, the man was gone.
Suddenly, something draped across his right shoulder. And then his left.
Startled, Elisha tugged the reigns, bringing the oxen to an abrupt stop, and wheeled about. When he did, though, the stranger was already back on the path, but now heading back toward town at a much more substantial pace.
Puzzled, he looked at the cloth which had been thrown across his shoulders. There was something very familiar about it, if only he could place it. The mantle was a dusty white, with a deep red stripe about two inches from either side and tassels on each end. Immediately, Elisha recognized it as the shawl of a priest or a teacher, but what would someone like that be doing all the way out here? What would one of them want with Elisha?
Then recognition dawned. This was not just the shawl of any priest or teacher. No, this was the mantle of a prophet whom Elisha had seen!
How could he have forgotten? It had been the single most amazing thing Elisha had ever beheld! This was the man who had commanded the heavens to close and the rains to stop! After a couple of years of drought, Elisha and all of his neighbors had all but given up on yet another planting season. Many had realized that the drought was an act of God and complained and grumbled, wondering why He would do such a thing to His people. But Elisha had known that God had warned that famine would come if Israel ever drifted away to worship other gods. And so, while the others complained, he had prayed. And torn down the altars his father and his father before him had built.
Strangely, though he had been far from rich by any standard, ever since he had done that, Elisha had been able to at least make a meager living. It had been far more than his friends or neighbors had managed; he had been able to expand his fields even as many of them were selling theirs.
But then, two months ago, news had spread like wildfire that the drought was coming to an end. Eight hundred of the prophets of Baal were gathering near the sea to sacrifice and pray for rain. They were going to show the one remaining prophet of this so-called God, and all Israel - Elisha included - turned out to see.
He remembered watching as the priests of Baal started their chanting. Then came the dancing. Then the wailing. After hours with no rain, they had brought out chains and whips, and even swords, and begun beating and cutting themselves in the hopes that Baal would answer somehow. But the longer Elisha had watched, the more certain he grew that it was not at all a matter of what Baal would do. Baal could not rain fire down on the offering which lay in a heap in the middle of this multitude of “prophets.” Baal could not bring rain at all.
As the sun had grown lower - probably about where it was now, Elisha recalled - the prophet of God had called for water to be poured out on his offering. Elisha had been near the front, and so he had volunteered to go. It had been a quarter-mile to the sea where he filled his jar and brought it back, pouring it over the prophet’s bull. Three times. Then the prophet had turned and prayed quietly, and Boom! Fire had rained down from heaven, and in the blink of an eye, all that remained of the offering had been a ring of absolutely scorched earth!
The rain had indeed come that night, but there was no doubt in anyone’s mind which god had brought them.
But what was the prophet’s name?
For days after the show, people had talked about him incessantly. There were reported sightings in almost every portion of the northern kingdom. But it soon became clear that these were mere fancy, and within a couple of weeks, with the rain now falling, such talk drifted from the silent, missing prophet back to more pressing matters: planting season.
The mantle across Elisha’s shoulders, though, was undeniably no mere fancy.
Elijah!
That was the prophet’s name!
And the mantle meant that he wanted Elisha - Elisha! - to follow him!
“Hey, wait!” Elisha cried without thinking, taking off after the man. He had to run to catch him; Elijah was startlingly fast. But about the time Elisha caught him, the prophet had turned back with a curious look on his face. Reaching him, the farmer huffed, “Just let me say good bye to my parents quick, tell them where I’m going, and I’ll follow you. I’ll follow you!”
Elijah shook his head and said, “Go on back, for what have I done to you?”
What had he done for Elisha? Was the man kidding? Drought, fire, and rain... God Himself answered Elijah’s prayer!
Immediately, Elisha spun around and rushed back to his plow. Wasting no time, he produced the small toolbox which he always carried and started tearing the thing apart.
Gehazi was on the scene a moment later, crying, “What are you doing? Who was that man?”
Elisha looked up just long enough to acknowledge his friend and servant, and answer, “Elijah.”
“The prophet?” Gehazi asked. “What did he want?” Elisha pointed quickly at the garment laid across his shoulders, and Gehazi, immediately recognizing the meaning of such a gesture, demanded, “What are you going to do?”
Elisha did not answer the question, but rather grunted, “Find me some matches.”
With practiced hands, he tore the plow apart and stacked it, the yokes, reigns, and everything else into a pile. And then, leading the oxen to it, he slaughtered them with a single motion. The two beasts staggered and then fell directly upon the lumber, and as soon as Gehazi returned, Elisha lit a great bonfire.
By this time, the other men had noticed that something was going on, and they and their teams had all drawn near. With the fire going, Elisha rose and turned to them. “Oh, great!” the man exclaimed. “All of you, break down your plows and slaughter your teams. Then go get your families! We’re having steaks tonight!”
Puzzled, the men all considered their master with curious looks. Such behavior was not at all usual, and the plowing was not yet done! “Why?” one managed to ask. “What’s going on?”
Elisha looked at the man and, with a smile that comes from certain resolve, answered, “I’m done farming.”