During the early eighth century b.c., King Jehoash grips a composite wood bow while the prophet Elisha lies dying on a woven goat-hair mat. The northern kingdom of Israel sits in a state of constant, gnawing terror. Continuous Aramean raids from Damascus have stripped the national army down to a meager fifty horsemen and ten chariots. The air in the sickroom feels thick with heat and the smell of terminal illness. A cold sweat breaks on the young king's neck as he anticipates the profound physical exhaustion of the coming border wars. A strange and ultimate consolation settles over the room only when the old prophet places frail hands over the young ruler's tense grip.
The dying prophet orders the king to open the east window toward Aram. Jehoash fires a two-ounce bronze-tipped arrow out into the hazy daylight. Elisha then commands the king to take the remaining arrows and strike the packed earth floor. Jehoash hits the hard dirt exactly three times and then lowers his hands. The old man flares in sudden anger. He tells the king he will only defeat the Aramean army three times instead of destroying them completely. The physical act of striking the ground locks the mechanical gears of future military campaigns into place. The Lord binds his deliverance to the raw limits of human effort.
The bow and arrows function as an instrument of measurement for human resolve rather than simple weapons of war. Striking the ground represents a blunt test of endurance and total commitment. Men often stop fighting the moment they feel they have done just enough to satisfy an immediate demand. The prophet demanded blind, exhausted repetition. The king offered only a polite minimum.
A man who stops swinging the hammer before the nail is flush will eventually catch his sleeve on the jagged metal.
Spring raiders from Moab continued to bleed the borders while the dead bones of Elisha rested in a rock-hewn tomb. Jehoash reclaimed his lost cities exactly three times before the campaigns ground into a bitter and permanent stalemate.