In 2 Kings 6 we walk with Elisha and the people of Israel through a series of encounters that remind us how often the battles we face are fought in realms we cannot see, and how God’s provision can surprise us in the driest of places. It begins quietly with a group known as “the sons of the prophets” gathering at the Jordan River to expand their living quarters. As they cut down trees for a new meeting place, one of them accidentally loses the iron head of his axe when it slips off the handle and sinks. In that moment his fear must have been tangible—this simple tool was on loan, and now the man faced the shame of returning empty-handed. He cries out to Elisha: “My lord, it was borrowed.” And in a gesture both gentle and miraculous, Elisha flings a stick into the water, watches it strike, and sees the iron float to the surface. In that single act we feel the care of a God who notices our borrowed tools, our everyday anxieties, and who can transform what sinks into what floats.
From that intimate moment we are carried into the larger drama of war. The king of Aram (Syria) is at odds with Israel, and as he plans each ambush against Samaria, his officers warn him that someone inside Israel must be revealing every move. The king’s suspicions fall on his own inner circle, but they assure him that Elisha in Samaria is God’s eyes and ears, alerting Israel to every secret. Frustrated, the king sends armies to capture Elisha in Dothan. Yet each night the prophet’s servant wakes to find the camp surrounded by horses and chariots of fire—he sees the host of heaven arrayed on the hillsides, protecting the man of God. Elisha’s calm words to his servant—“Those who are with us are more than those who are with them”—remind us that the fiercest battles often have heavenly armies fighting on our behalf, unseen yet unmistakably present.
When the Aramean captains arrive under cover of darkness, Elisha prays that they be struck blind. He then guides them, hand on arm, straight into Samaria’s gate, where their bewildered king confronts them. Elisha could have demanded their execution, but instead he tells the king to feed and release them, so that “they may turn back to their master.” The king’s initial hesitation—are they not our enemies?—gives way to mercy, as he prepares a feast for these very men who came to take his life. When they return to Damascus, their surprise and shame lead the king of Aram to cease his raids on Israel’s territory. Through this, we learn that obedience to God’s word—even when it flies against our instinct for revenge—can break the cycle of violence and bring lasting peace.
As if the curtain did not already show enough of divine power and mercy, the story shifts again to Samaria in the grip of a siege. Citizens are trapped behind their walls, famine gnawing at their bellies, desperation urging some to dire measures. Ahab’s son Jehoram wanders the ramparts at dusk, surveying the horror below, when he hears two women agreeing that, if pressed to eat another, they would devour their own children. We can almost smell the stench of starvation as he trembles at the words. He cries out to Elisha in anguish, blaming the Lord for handing him up to such suffering. Elisha’s reply is simple and direct: “Thus says the Lord, ‘Tomorrow about this time, a seah of fine flour shall be sold for a shekel, and two seahs of barley for a shekel, at the gate of Samaria.’” The rations of death will turn into abundance once again—not by human plan, but by divine decree.
It is a promise that seems impossible until the next morning, when merchants rush to the gate and discover the exact miracle foretold. The image of people trampling one another to buy food—too eager to worry about bargaining—captures both the glad relief of delivered despair and the shoals of human greed that can follow a miracle. Yet the point stands: God can transform the most hopeless circumstance into one of generous plenty when His people look beyond their fear and wait on His word.
Through these four scenes—the floating axe head, the unmasking of hidden enemies, the release of blinded soldiers, and the reversal of drought to feast—2 Kings 6 invites us to realign our vision. We are urged to see beyond the visible chaos of life, to trust that God’s army surrounds us, and to obey even the simplest commands, for they often open channels to unimaginable grace. We also learn that mercy has its own power to end conflicts, that divine word can turn famine into feasting overnight, and that no lost tool or trapped soul is beyond the reach of God’s care.
As we step away from Samaria’s walls, we carry with us the image of a quiet river miraculously giving up a sinking iron head; of a frightened servant witnessing angels arrayed in fire; of enemies dining in friendship; and of starved families buying grain at new prices. In all these we glimpse a God who knows our needs before we speak, whose resources can never run dry, and whose mercy can break every siege—both around our cities and within our own hearts.