2 Kings 6:8-23

Wouldn’t it be terrific to know what your enemies were saying and planning?  Wouldn’t it be awesome to be able to see, as Elisha could, God’s armies of fire, surrounding and protecting you?  Surely, if we studied Elisha’s life and story deeply enough, we could discover some spiritual tips and techniques to provide ourselves with that kind of hearing, that kind of vision …

… except that’s not why these stories are given to us in the Bible.  This week’s passage is not a how-to manual designed to ensure that we will always the upper hand over our obstacles and enemies.  It’s a what-happened account. What happened was that God was faithful to his promises and protected and preserved his people. The story isn’t about how we can have the gifts that Elisha had, it’s about how we can trust God as Elisha did.

The vast majority of God’s people throughout history have not had the “Elisha experiences” recorded in these verses.  That does not mean these stories don’t have much to teach us.

Hearing and seeing are two of the most basic ways we “take in” the world.  Our world privileges sight: “seeing is believing,” “I see what’s going on here.”  Scripture puts a high value on seeing: Jesus was a healer of blind eyes.

But hearing comes first.  God’s first command isn’t to look, it’s to listen.  It’s not to do something, but to hear something: “Hear, O Israel, the LORD your God is one …”

Seeing easily becomes an expression of independence: I perceive the world, supposedly as a neutral, unbiased, “objective” observer.  I am the center; notice how mapping software always locates me at the center of the screen?

Hearing is inherently relational; hearing means there’s another to whom I am listening.  Hearing means relationship, conversation, community. I listen, and I am listened to.

Elisha was able to see what no one else could because he had first been listening to God.  What we listen to shapes how we see. As we faithfully listen to God together in Scripture, what we hear shapes how we see.  Are we truly surrounded by enemies, is that the most basic reality we confront—“Oh, my lord, what shall we do?”—or is there something else at work?  And when, if, our enemies are delivered into our hands, do we see an opportunity for vengeance and victory—“Shall I kill them, my father? Shall I kill them?”—or an invitation to see them differently?  It depends on what, on whom, we’ve been listening to.

What is one way you could practice having your ears more open so that your eyes could be more open as well?  For example, name one person or situation you would like to see differently, and then take five minutes to listen … maybe with your Bible open nearby?