I recently re-read the account of the Shunammite woman and felt myself becoming enveloped in her story. We don’t know her name, neither do we know the name of her husband, but the significance of the story isn’t in her name nor is it about who she’s married to. No, rather, this story is about a nameless woman, whose valiant spirit captured heaven’s attention (2 Kings 4:8-36).
Day after day she prepared for the prophet’s arrival. She was ‘great’ or ‘wealthy’ by earthly standards, but her true joy was contained in serving this humble, itinerant stranger. He was no longer just a passing visitor; he had been adopted as a vital member of her family. She delighted in the realization that God had blessed her by choosing her to host His humble manservant.
But she was dealing with something; something unresolved deep within her. She was childless. You see, up until this point in her story, the Shunammite woman had never had the pleasure of cradling her own baby. She’d never felt the tug of a nursing infant. Yet, I argue that she was a mother long before her womb conceived. The Shunammite woman was a nurturer and caregiver, a nurse and comforter. She had the heartbeat of a mother and it echoed in the far reaches of heaven as she attended to Elisha.
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article courtesy of TheStreamingFaith.com