Even if you are not “prophetic,” the story in 2 Kings 6 feels almost like a coming-of-age narrative, offering a glimpse into the life, times, and ministry of the prophet left behind—Elisha.
It’s a story of prophets, building projects, trees, water, and a precarious piece of iron. We must immerse ourselves in this unfolding story—not merely read it but feel it and live it—because this isn’t just about a lost axe head. While Elisha features in the story, the focal point isn’t him or a junior prophet; it’s the sudden splash in the river.
The Truth About Consequences
Something I didn’t learn early in life is the unyielding truth that every action has consequences. We must consider our ways before God—our words and deeds carry ramifications. This encounter, involving a group of young prophets at work, speaks to the realities of loss and recovery, the grace that invades the impossible, and the restoration of what was lost when crises leap out from life’s shadows.
Prophets in Action
Our encounter begins in 2 Kings 6:1–7, where Elisha leads a school of young prophets—men called by God to learn, follow, and grow in prophetic ministry. There are questions worth exploring here, which I hope to address in a future post. For now, we see Elisha modelling his ministry before them day by day. These young men have witnessed God’s hand at work through him—miracles, provision, power. They have caught the vision and become part of something greater than themselves. But the question arises: what’s next? Everything touched by God thrives, grows, and develops. Our role, however, requires patience—a willingness to wait with expectation.
Growth and the Jordan
Sometimes God’s activity around us may seem, well, “inactive.” Not much appears to be happening—until God turns up the volume and switches on all the lights. For these young prophets, such a time has arrived. A welcomed challenge emerges: their dwelling place is too small. They have outgrown it. It’s akin to returning to school after the long summer break, only to find your trousers are now far too short.
Don’t rush past this detail—their accommodation is no longer fit for purpose. We recently faced a similar challenge at our Emmanuel church plant in Sheffield. Growth forced us to leave one building and endure the disruption of finding another—bigger and better. Similarly, these young men recognised their limitation and courageously addressed it. They refused to settle for smallness, realising that God’s work required growth, expansion, and space. So, they proposed an audacious but practical plan: “Let us go to the Jordan, and each of us get there a log, and let us make a place for us to dwell there” (2 Kings 6:2, ESV).
What’s remarkable isn’t just their initiative but the symbolism hovering over this moment. The Jordan is no random location; it is steeped in divine history—a site of God’s repeated, powerful interventions. It is where the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land (Joshua 3), where Elijah ascended to heaven (2 Kings 2), where Naaman was cleansed (2 Kings 5), and where Jesus was baptised (Matthew 3). The Jordan signifies crossing, transformation, and new beginnings. It’s where God accomplishes remarkable, unprecedented acts—an apt metaphor for His prophetic activity in our lives.
Creating Space for the Work of God
These young prophets weren’t merely building a larger physical dwelling; they were stepping into a Spirit-led history, unknowingly edging towards an extraordinary encounter with God. In a sense, they were creating space—not just for themselves but for the unfolding work of God among them.
How often do we miss what God is doing because we cling to comfort and familiarity? I know I do. Sometimes, faith means grabbing your log and heading to the river—making, clearing, and creating space for the new thing God wants to build. Nothing remains dormant for long with God.
As a spectator, observe what happens as the story gains momentum. The young men work hard, cutting down trees with energy, sweat, and purpose—until one of them loses his axe head. It flies off the handle and sinks—plops—into the Jordan. His reaction is immediate and desperate: “Alas, my master! It was borrowed!” (2 Kings 6:5, ESV). This six-word cry is raw and unfiltered—like a cliff-hanger at the end of a TV drama episode. But it’s not just about the axe head. It’s about losing the essential tool for the task. The edge is gone, the power is gone—and it wasn’t even his to begin with.
A Symbol of Effectiveness
This isn’t merely a misplaced tool. Perhaps it symbolises what happens when we’re engaged in something good, necessary, and God-honouring—but we lose our edge. The axe head represents effectiveness, sharpness, and the power required for the work. Isn’t that where many of us are? You remember when your faith was sharp, your prayers fervent, your passion for God vibrant. But now? Now, it feels like something has sunk. The edge is gone. What springs to mind is Revelation’s warnings: “You have the reputation of being alive, but you are dead” (Revelation 3:1, ESV) or “You have abandoned the love you had at first” (Revelation 2:4, ESV)—all of which are about ‘them’ being in a better place at one time or another than they are at that point.
The Grace in Borrowing
We also have to be aware of the young prophet’s admission and dilemma: it was borrowed. Scripture highlights a profound truth here—everything we have—our gifts, calling, and resources—is borrowed. It’s all grace. None of it belongs to us; it’s entrusted by God. As Paul asks: “What do you have that you did not receive?” (1 Corinthians 4:7, ESV). The young man doesn’t hide his loss or pretend all is well. He cries out, acknowledging the problem. That’s the first step toward recovery: honesty and humility.
Elisha quickly responds with a simple but profound question: “Where did it fall?” (2 Kings 6:6, ESV). It is wisdom. Elisha doesn’t berate or lecture him but asks him to return to the place where the loss occurred. This is our challenge in life. Where did it fall? Was it neglect, as spiritual disciplines like prayer and Scripture faded into the background? Was it disappointment, when bitterness took root because life didn’t unfold as expected? Or was it distraction, as work, family, or ambition crowded out the things of God? Until you return to the place of loss, where you lost the cutting edge, recovery cannot begin.
The Miracle of Restoration
The young man shows Elisha the spot, and Elisha then performs something extraordinary: he cuts a stick, throws it into the water, and the iron floats. He doesn’t poke the axe head; he just throws the stick into the water. Don’t rush past this miracle. Iron doesn’t float. This is a vivid and powerful picture of grace—God’s power to restore what seems irretrievably lost.
For us, the stick foreshadows the cross. It’s the answer for our lives and all that we are about. Think about it—a piece of wood thrown into the depths brings something buried back to the surface. Isn’t this precisely what Jesus did? On the cross, He entered the depths of our sin, brokenness, and lostness—and brought us back to life. It shouldn’t happen, but in the wisdom and power of God, it did.
When the axe head floats, Elisha says: “Take it up” (2 Kings 6:7, ESV). Grab it, take hold of it. This is grace in action. God restores what was lost but invites us to reach out and take hold of it, not just look at it and marvel.
Are You Ready for Recovery?
So, what about you? Where did it fall? Where did you lose your sharpness, passion, or intimacy with God? Are you willing to trace your steps, confront the loss, and cry out for help? No one else is to blame for your recovery—you have to stretch out your hand, whether in faith, forgiveness, repentance, or with courage.
Here’s the good news: God specialises in recovery. The God who made iron float restores lost joy, purpose, and passion. He promises: “I will restore to you the years that the swarming locust has eaten” (Joel 2:25, ESV).
Recovery isn’t passive though. When God brings the edge back to the surface, He calls you to reach out and take hold of it. Step back into the work He has called you to. The edge can be restored. The fire can burn again. The passion can return. But it begins with a question: Where did it fall?
The Edge Restored
God is ready to act. Are you ready to cry out, return to the place of loss, and let His grace restore what you thought was gone forever?
The axe head floats. The edge is restored. God remains in the business of making the impossible possible.
Take hold of it.
