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sermons by IVOR POWELL

A TRIP DOWN MEMORY LANE AS TOLD BY The Woman of Shunem

My name is of little consequence: it is sufficient to say I was

born on a farm in the land of Shunem, and because my parents

were moderately wealthy, I enjoyed privileges denied to most of

the children who lived in our area. My father and mother were

God-fearing people who taught me to respect and serve Jehovah.

Naturally. as I grew older. I experienced all the longings familiar

to other young ladies, and I secretly prayed that I would find a

man so that together we could enjoy our own family. Eventually I

met the one who was destined to become my husband, and the

fulfillment of my dreams seemed to come a little closer. He was a

farmer and acquainted with everything associated with agriculture.

When my parents died. I inherited the property. and life took

on a new meaning for both of us. I believed in God but apparently

something was lacking in my faith. I might say that my belief

were intellectual: they were in my mind but not in my soul. Now

as I look back over the years, four words seem to sum up my

experiences. They are: gratitude, grief, guidance. and gladness.

Perhaps. if I deal with them one at a time and in that order.

you will better understand what happened to me.

Gratitude

We were well known in our district, and some of the people

referred to me as The Great Woman of Shunem (2 Kings 4:8).

but whether or not that definition was earned remains debatable.

Perhaps they were referring to my property, which, as I have

said, was considerable: however, material possessions. though

desirable. cannot satisfy the deepest longings of a woman's soul.

My husband and I prayed earnestly that God would favor us

with a child, but as the years passed by, it seemed as if our

prayers would not be answered. We were extremely disappointed.

and slowly our faith began to wane.

And then one day I saw a stranger walking along the dusty

road near to our farm. This was unusual, for our neighbors spent

most of their time working in the fields. This man of distinction

had a servant who appeared to be very respectful. Yet the man

himself was different. At first I did not take much notice, but

when he continued at intervals to return, I began to wonder why

he was coming and what was his mission. I remember saying to

my husband: "Behold now, I perceive that this is an holy man of

God, which passeth by us continually. Let us make a little chamber.

I pray thee, on the wall: and let us set for him there a bed,

and a table, and a stool, and a candlestick and it shall be, when

he cometh to us, that he shall turn in thither" (2 Kings 4:9Ä10).

We were both captivated and looked forward eagerly to his arrival.

Our house soon became a rest-home on the highway. We

discovered he was a prophet called Elisha. He often spoke about

his former master, Elijah, who had recently gone home to heaven.

When in the evening he spoke to us, my husband and I were

fascinated for he told amazing stories. We were filled with regret

when he ceased. We could have listened to him forever.

Then came the morning when I had the shock of my life.

Gehazi, the prophet's servant, told me his master wished to see

me. Rather nervously I went to stand in the doorway of his room.

He looked at me and said: "About this season, according to the

time of life, thou shalt embrace a son." I was completely astonished

and could only whisper. "Nay, my lord, thou man of God, do not

lie unto thine handmaid." Afterward I seemed to be walking on

air: the impossible was happening, and as the months passed, my

body told me that I was not dreaming. Perhaps it was at that time

the God of my intellect became the Lord of my heart. Often in the

great crises of life, this happens to people. Perhaps it will not

seem amiss if I ask my listeners if this ever happened to them.

Grief

The years began to pass, my baby became an attractive boy and

was the joy of my life. I had to be his mother, teacher, friend, and

guide, but every day was a little bit of heaven on earth. God had

been gracious to me, and my child seemed to be a small angel sent

down to dispel my loneliness. At harvest time he loved to accompany

his father into the fields, and the servants loved him as he

tried to emulate their example. No music could compare with my

boy's laughter. Little did I know when one morning I packed his

lunch, that the day was to be the darkest of my life. Storm clouds

were about to eclipse the sun! Out in the fields my son was trying

to help the men when, placing his hands to his head, he cried, "My

head, my head." My husband, who did not realize the seriousness

of the situation, said to a lad, "Carry him to his mother." When I

saw the fellow carrying the limp form in his arms, my heart stood

still. I hardly knew what I was doing, but somehow I carried my

son up to the prophet's chamber and laid him on the bed. Then I

went out and shut the door. I continued to ask myself, "Why did

God give him to me if He intended to take him so soon?" I had no

answer, but nothing else mattered at that moment. I had needed

God in life: I needed Him much more in death. Now as I remember

that terrible moment. It seems as an awful nightmare. I sought

and found Elisha, and eventually he arrived at my home, and I

watched as he ascended the stairs to his chamber. I did not know

all that took place until I was informed later by the servant. I

heard the prophet's footsteps as he walked to and fro, and realized

that even he was fighting a great battle, that his soul was also

filled with anguish. Then suddenly I heard my child sneezing, as

if he were catching a cold,

I did not fully comprehend all that was taking place, but when

the door opened, I saw the servant smiling. He invited me to

enter the chamber, and when I did, I saw the prophet standing

alongside the bed, He said, "Take up thy son." I could hardly

move, My feet seemed fastened to the floor, but there stood my

boy as if he had just awakened from sleep. I wanted to rush over

and hug him, but something prevented me. The prophet was

gravely watching. Perhaps he was wondering what my reactions

would be. Instinctively, I went over and fell at his feet to whisper,

"Thank you." Then I took up my boy and went down to my

kitchen. Tears were streaming down my face as I hugged him. I

wonder now if Jehovah was smiling. What might have happened

had I neglected to go to the prophet?

Prayer is the soul's sincere desire:

Uttered or unexpressed;

The motion of a hidden fire,

That trembles in the breast.

Guidance

I smile now when I read the account supplied by the ancient

writer.

Then spake Elisha unto the woman, whose son he had restored

to life, saying Arise, and go thou and thine household, and

sojourn wheresoever thou canst sojourn: for the LORD hath

called for a famine: and it shall also come upon the land

seven years (2 Kings 8:1).

I cannot help but wonder if people ever realize what happened

on that fateful morning when I saw Elisha approaching

my home. I had not forgotten the miracle that restored my son to

me, but this special visit from the prophet was unexpected. After

my husband's death, my son and I, with the help of God, had

continued to farm the land and were content. When Elisha commanded

me to leave my property and hurry to an unknown destination,

I was dumbfounded. We had worked so hard to maintain

the farm, and to leave everything at a moment's notice seemed

unreasonable. But I already knew that Elisha was a man of God

who was the messenger of the Almighty. He urged us to hurry as

there was no time to lose. I quickly gathered things essential for

the journey, sold what equipment was possible, and with any

money I could obtain, sadly left our property. This was not easy

for that farm was the dearest place on earth. Where could we go'?

What could be done when we arrived? What would happen to

my son if I died in a strange land? What would your reactions be

if you were placed in a similar position?

When we arrived in the land of the Philistines, we made a few

inquiries and eventually settled in a small village. At first everything

appeared to be bewildering, but fortunately we had sufficient

funds to meet our daily needs. I do not think my son

understood all that was happening, but I was determined he would

never forget his homeland. Each night I told him stories about

our native land, but after he went to sleep, I sat and sometimes

wept. What had happened to my farm'? Were other people living

there and working the land? Had we already been forgotten?

Yes, I knew God had brought us to this foreign land, but would

He ever take us home again?

That first year was terrible: the next was almost as bad, but

after that, my grief was not so intense. When I saw my new

neighbors reaping their harvest, my heart missed a beat, and my

memories became intensely active. I wondered if Jehovah had

forgotten me. That was an awful feeling. My sisters, did you

ever have a similar experience? As darkness enveloped my soul,

I began to wonder if the sun would ever shine again. The psalmist

asked himself: "Why art thou cast down, 0 my soul?" but then

he said: "Hope thou in God for I shall yet praise Him" (Ps.

42:5).

Yes, I am truly traveling down memory's lane when I recall

that after seven years, I heard God whispering: "It's time to go

home."

And it came to pass at the seven years' end, that the woman

returned out of the land of the Philistines: and she went forth to

cry unto the king for her house and for her land (2 Kings 8:3).

The day had arrived, and I did not care what danger lay

ahead. I had learned that a crust of bread in my homeland was

better than a banquet in a foreign land. My boy and I had to

travel over a hundred miles to reach our country, and the journey

was not an easy one. Most of our money had been spent,

and our financial security was at an all-time low. We were at

the end of our resources and completely dependent upon the

Lord. It was impossible for us to know that each step was

counted by God, and He controlled everything. We did not

know then that our arrival had already been arranged. We could

neither arrive late, nor early. Our problem was only a part of a

jigsaw puzzle which the Almighty was patiently putting together.

As we reviewed the entire episode, we became convinced

God is too wise to make a mistake, and too loving to be

unkind. Jehovah was calmly calculating every phase of our

long journey.

When we entered our homeland, what would be the best thing

to do? To proceed to our former home would be unwise, for

other people would be living there. To go elsewhere would be

impossible, for we had little if any money to buy or rent a new

home. To appeal to a local magistrate would be useless: people

who left Israel to live among Philistines would never be popular

and certainly not compensated for losses. I soon realized that an

appeal to the king was my only hope of securing assmstance.

Perhaps when I decided to approach the ruler, God smiled. Life

teaches how the just shall live by faith: men and women must

proceed even when the road ahead seems uninviting. There is

always help just around the corner.

Gladness

I was surprised when I saw the king seated in the open air and

speaking loudly to a beggar who was standing a small distance

away. I wondered if it would be wise to interrupt the proceedings.

for oftentimes kings have ruthless ways of dealing with

offenders. I was unaware of events which had taken place during

my stay in Philistia: I did not know that the servant of Elisha had

become a leper and had been banished to a place of isolation.

Neither did I know that the king, who was not known for piety.

had developed a keen interest in the exploits of a prophet who

had formerly been despised. For some inexplicable reason, the

monarch desired to know more about Elisha, and when he heard

Gehazi could provide information, he threw caution to the winds

and summoned the doomed man into his presence.

He asked the leper if he could supply what he needed to hear,

and receiving an affirmative reply, commanded the fellow to tell

a story about his former master. When my son and I arrived, the

man was actually telling the king about us, and to say the least, I

was astonmshed. There were many amazing stories which could

be told about Elisha, but for some inscrutable reason, on the spur

of the moment, the informant began to describe how Elisha restored

life to my boy. I thought this was an opportune moment

and cried: "0 King, please help me." Surprised, the monarch

turned his head to look at me; the leper ceased speaking; there

was a moment of silence, and then the leper shouted: "My Lord,

O king, this is the woman, and this is her son, whom Elisha

restored to life" (2 Kings 8:5). For a few moments everyone

appeared to be confused, The king was trying to understand the

situation, the leper was staring at me and the boy, and the silence

was deafening! Then the king asked if the story was true and

where I had been, etc.

When I had told the story how God had commanded me to

leave the land so that the approaching famine would not deprive

us of sustenance, the king said to an officer: "Restore all that

was hers, and all the fruit of the field, since the day that she left

the land, even until now." As I listened I did not know whether

to laugh or cry. Probably the tenant to be evicted was also compensated,

but there could never be a happier day than that we

experienced when once again we walked around our newly acquired

property. It is still difficult to believe that God paid for

our seven-year vacation in a foreign land. He surely knew how

to honor His word and care for His dependents. I have truly

escorted you down my memory lane, and in so doing have en-

riched my soul, What can I say in conclusion? Perhaps David

says it best:

I have been young, and now am old; yet have I not seen the

righteous forsaken, nor his seed begging bread (Ps. 37:25).

My journey into the past seems to proclaim a great truth: It

pays to trust in the living God.