Good morning. It’s Friday, June 27, 2025. What if an entire nation’s strength came from one man—and no one realized it until he was gone? Elisha wasn’t flashy. But when he died, a king wept—not for a prophet, but for the protection he never knew he needed.
Today's Reading:
2 Kings 13,14; 2 Chronicles 25; 2 Timothy 3
Scripture
“Now Elisha had a terminal illness. King Joash of Israel went down to visit him. He wept before him and said, “My father, my father! The chariots and horsemen of Israel!” (2 Kings 13:14)
Observation
Elisha wasn’t just a prophet—he was a spiritual stronghold, the kind of leader whose private faith upheld an entire nation.
When Joash cries, “My father, my father, the chariots and horsemen of Israel!” he’s quoting Elisha’s own words from when Elijah was taken up (2 Kings 2:12). It was an admission: “You were the army.” One man, walking with God, had more impact than battalions.
But unlike Elisha—who took up the mantle and walked in that power—Joash only repeats the phrase without living the faith.
It’s language without legacy. Reverence without replication.
Elisha was a one-man army who lived in the power of God. Joash admired it but didn’t walk in it. He had a form of godliness… but denied its power.
Application
It’s easy to echo the faith of those we admire—quote their words, sing their songs, use their language—but miss the lifestyle that carried the weight. I don’t want to cry over anointings I never carry. I don’t want to admire power I won’t walk in. I don’t want to look impressive but live ineffective.
Elisha didn’t set out to be a one-man army. He simply walked with God daily—and over time, that life became a covering for others. That’s the kind of life I want: not one that draws attention, but one that quietly holds the line. I may never feel ready or worthy, but faithfulness begins with a yes. If God chooses to use my life to shelter others, may I carry that weight with humility. And when He calls me to strike—may I not stop short.
Prayer
God, don’t let me settle for borrowed language or surface-level reverence. I want the kind of faith that doesn’t just quote the past but takes up the mantle for the future. Teach me to walk with You in the quiet places until my life carries something worth passing on. Make me faithful. Make me ready. Make me a one-man army. In Jesus’ name, amen.
—Chris Kiriakos