Elisha led the school of the prophets, and many miracles took place among them.

One day, a widow came to Elisha in tears. Her husband had died owing money, and the creditor threatened to take her two sons as slaves. All she had left was a small jar of oil. Elisha told her, “Go and borrow as many empty jars as you can from your neighbours. Don’t gather just a few.” She and her sons went through the village collecting jars. Then, back at home, she began to pour. To her amazement, the oil kept flowing—filling jar after jar—until every vessel was full. Only then did the oil stop. She sold it, paid her debt, and had enough left to live on.

At another time, Elisha was with the prophets during a famine. They prepared a pot of stew, but someone had unknowingly added poisonous gourds. As the men ate, they cried out, “There’s death in the pot!” Elisha calmly took some flour, threw it into the stew, and told them to eat. The food became safe, and they finished their meal.

Not long after, a man brought Elisha twenty loaves of barley bread. There were a hundred men to feed, and the bread seemed far too little. But Elisha said, “Give it to the people, for the Lord says: they will eat and have some left over.” And it happened just as he said—everyone ate, and there was more than enough.

Later, when the prophets decided to build a larger meeting place by the Jordan, they set to work cutting trees. One man’s borrowed ax head flew off and sank into the river. He panicked. “It wasn’t mine!” he cried. Elisha cut a stick, threw it into the water, and at once the iron axe head floated to the surface. The man reached in and lifted it out, relieved.

In the town of Shunem, a wealthy woman often welcomed Elisha, even preparing a little room for him whenever he passed through. Grateful for her kindness, Elisha told her she would bear a son. She had long given up hope, but just as the prophet said, a baby boy was born.

Years passed, and one day the boy was working in the fields when he suddenly cried, “My head! My head!” His father carried him home, but by noon the child was dead. In anguish, his mother laid him on Elisha’s bed and rode out to find the prophet.

When Elisha arrived, he went to the room, closed the door, and prayed earnestly. He stretched himself over the boy—mouth to mouth, eyes to eyes, hands to hands—and the child’s body began to grow warm. Elisha did it again, and suddenly the boy sneezed seven times and opened his eyes. Alive again! Elisha called for the mother and said, “Here is your son.” Overcome with joy, she fell at his feet, then gathered her child into her arms.

After Jehu died, his son took the throne, but he was not a good king. Yet in a moment of desperation, he sought the Lord’s help—and God answered him.

Years later, Jehoash, the king, faced a sorrowful moment. Elisha, the great prophet, lay near death. The king knelt beside him, weeping, “My father, my father, the chariots and horsemen of Israel!”

Elisha looked at him and said, “Bring your bow and arrows.” When Jehoash returned, the prophet placed his hands over the king’s and instructed, “Open the window.”

Jehoash obeyed, and Elisha told him, “Shoot an arrow.” The arrow flew, and Elisha exclaimed, “This is the Lord’s arrow of victory! You will triumph over Syria!”

Then the prophet handed the king more arrows. “Strike the ground with them,” he said. Jehoash struck three times, then stopped. Elisha’s eyes blazed. “Why only three? If you had struck five or six times, Syria would be utterly defeated. Now, you will win only three victories.”

Not long after, Elisha died and was laid to rest in a tomb. The following spring, as Israelites conducted a funeral, Moabite raiders appeared. In their haste, the people threw a dead man into Elisha’s tomb to escape. The moment the body touched the prophet’s bones, life surged through him—he stood on his feet, restored by the power of God.