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Commentary Index | Return to PrayerRequest.com | DownloadGreater Men and Women of the Bible by James Hastings: 355. Dothan
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Dothan
2. The sequel was remarkable. A servant of the prophet first discovered the enemy, in the early morning; and, greatly alarmed, he informed his master of what appeared to him a hopeless situation. But Elisha was undisturbed. His mind was stayed on God. “Fear not,” he said; “for they that be with us are more than they that be with them.” He then prayed for his dismayed follower, and the man had a vision of forces, hitherto unseen by him, that guard and help the servants of God. The literal story runs: “And the Lord opened the eyes of the young man; and he saw: and, behold, the mountain was full of horses and chariots of fire round about Elisha.”
Our eyes are blinded and we need to have them cleared, if not in the same manner as this lad's, yet in an analogous way. We look so constantly at the things seen that we have no sight for the unseen. Worldliness, sin, unbelief, sense and its trifles, time and its transitoriness, blind the eyes of our mind; and we need those of sense to be closed that these may open. The truest vision is the vision of faith. It is certain, direct, and conclusive. The world says, “Seeing is believing”; the gospel says, “Believing is seeing.” If we would but live near to Jesus Christ, pray to Him to touch our blind eyeballs, and turn away from the dazzling unrealities which sense brings, we should find Him the “master-light of all our seeing,” and be sure of the eternal, invisible things, with an assurance superior to that given by the keenest sight in the brightest sunshine. When we are blind to earth, we see earth glorified by angel presences, and fear and despair and helplessness and sorrow flee away from our tranquil hearts. If, on the other hand, we fix our gaze on earth and its trifles, there will generally be more to alarm than to encourage, and we shall do well to be afraid, if we do not see, as in such a case we shall certainly not see, the fiery wall around us, behind which God keeps His people safe.
Almighty God, as now we raise
Our longing eyes in hope to Thee,
Anointed, may our wond'ring gaze
Thy chariots and Thy horsemen see.
Let faith revive, let courage new
The vision of Thy hosts impart;
That all Thou willest we may do
With steadfast hands and holy heart.1 [Note: A. S. Dyer, in The Ideal Christian Home, 190.]
3. There is a touch of almost joyful humour in the way in which Elisha proceeded to use, in the present emergency, the power of Divine deliverance. Some think that he went out of the town and came himself to the Syrian captains; but what we read is simply that “when they came down to him,” he prayed God to send them “illusion,” so that they might be misled. Then he boldly said to them, “This is not the way, neither is this the city: follow me, and I will bring you to the man whom ye seek.” Elisha led the Syrians in their delusion straight into the city of Samaria, where they suddenly found themselves at the mercy of the king and his troops.
4. With an eagerness and a spiritual dulness characteristic of him, Jehoram would fain have slaughtered these captives of the Lord. And, with an equally characteristic uprightness and large-hearted generosity, the prophet almost indignantly rebuked the spurious zeal and courage of the king: “Thou shalt not smite them: wouldest thou smite those whom thou hast taken captive with thy sword and with thy bow?” It would have been unmanly to act otherwise; Jehovah had not brought these blinded men as His own captives to give the king of Israel an easy and a cruel triumph; the whole moral purpose of this event, its very character, would have been changed, if the proposal of Jehoram had been carried out. And it was right royal treatment on the part of the Heavenly Conqueror's ambassador, when, at his bidding, they gave them a great meal, and then dismissed them to their master, to report how Jehovah made captives of the captors of His representative, and how he entertained and released His captives. It was a signal victory for Elisha; and the calm faith he manifested when apparently in great peril makes the story of Dothan one of the most helpful and inspiring in his whole career.
In the hollow where the Boer tents had stood, amid the laagered wagons of the vanquished, under a murky sky and a constant drizzle of rain, the victors spent the night. Sleep was out of the question, for all night the fatigue parties were searching the hillside and the wounded were being carried in. Campfires were lit and soldiers and prisoners crowded round them, and it is pleasant to recall that the warmest corner and the best of their rude fare were always reserved for the downcast Dutchmen, while words of rude praise and sympathy softened the pain of defeat. It is the memory of such things which may in happier days be more potent than all the wisdom of statesmen in welding our two races into one.1 [Note: A. Conan Doyle, The Great Boer War, 105.]
It was six o'clock in the morning when General Pretyman rode up to Lord Roberts' headquarters. Behind him upon a white horse was a dark-bearded man, with the quick restless eye of the hunter, middle-sized, thickly built, with grizzled hair flowing from under a tall brown felt hat. He wore the black broad-cloth of the burgher with a green summer overcoat, and carried a small whip in his hands. His appearance was that of a respectable London vestryman rather than of a most redoubtable soldier with a particularly sinister career behind him.
The Generals shook hands, and it was briefly intimated to Cronje that his surrender must be unconditional, to which, after a short silence, he agreed. His only stipulations were personal, that his wife, his grandson, his secretary, his adjutant, and his servant might accompany him. The same evening he was despatched to Cape Town. receiving those honourable attentions which were due to his valour rather than to his character. His men, a pallid ragged crew, emerged from their holes and burrows, and delivered up their rifles. It is pleasant to add that, with much in their memories to exasperate them, the British privates treated their enemies with as large-hearted a courtesy as Lord Roberts had shown to their leader. Our total capture numbered some three thousand of the Transvaal and eleven hundred of the Free State. That the latter were not far more numerous was due to the fact that many had already shredded off to their farms. Besides Cronje, Wolverans of the Transvaal, and the German artillerist Albrecht, with forty-four other field-cornets and commandants, fell into our hands. Six small guns were also secured. The same afternoon saw the long column of the prisoners on its way to Modder River, there to be entrained for Cape Town, the most singular lot of people to be seen at that moment upon earth-ragged, patched, grotesque, some with goloshes, some with umbrellas, coffee-pots, and Bibles, their favourite baggage. So they passed out of their ten days of glorious history.1 [Note: A. Conan Doyle, The Great Boer War, 344.]
Mr. Gladstone's intellectual generosity was a part of the same largeness of nature. He cordially acknowledged his indebtedness to those who helped him in any piece of work, received their suggestions candidly, even when opposed to his own preconceived notions, did not hesitate to confess a mistake. Those who know the abundance of their resources, and have conquered fame, can doubtless afford to be generous. Julius Cæsar was, and George Washington, and so, in a different sphere, were Isaac Newton and Charles Darwin. But the instances to the contrary are so numerous that one may say of magnanimity that it is among the rarest as well as the finest ornaments of character.2 [Note: J. Bryce, Studies in Contemporary Biography, 457.]