In the grand scheme of life, it was incredibly small. Ridiculously small. Or just ridiculous. Clearly the prophet had jokes. Or pranks. It was difficult to tell the difference since the aforementioned individual had deemed it unnecessary to exit the house and greet his esteemed visitor. He’d simply sent a servant with the laughable message, “Go dunk yourself in the Jordan river seven times.”
Seriously? No prophet hurried out meticulously bowing and scraping in obeisance. No grand invitation to enter the prophet’s chambers was issued. No miraculous hands were laid on his leprous skin. No flowery words of prayer rang out to Heaven. No instantaneous healing occurred. The whole trip had been a waste of time. His presence was completely superfluous. He could have sent a messenger to get this information. Or non-information. He had no intention of dipping in the sluggish, muddy, disgusting stream they called the Jordan River. Not now. Not ever.
Wheeling about, Naaman stomped toward his steed, mounted in one fluid motion, and gestured for his men to follow. They were leaving. His disappointment was acute. He regretted making the trip. He hated the waste of time. His blood boiled that it hadn’t turned out the way the little servant girl said it would. Dip himself in the Jordan? Never! He was going home!
His men had other ideas. At least some of them. Carefully approaching their angry leader, his servants cautiously made their logical appeal. If the prophet Elisha had asked him to single-handedly ride into battle and show off his magnificent fighting skills, he’d have done it. If he’d been asked to gather an army of cowards and inspire them to boldly walk into battle, he’d surely have accepted the task. If Elisha’s message had been to do something huge that would gain attention and garner glory, Naaman would have jumped at the chance. So what would it hurt to do something small, something insignificant, something easy?
Nothing. It would hurt nothing to try this one little thing. If the treatment failed, he would be no worse for trying. But if it worked, if it cleansed his skin from the disease that baffled every physician and medical scholar he had seen, it would all be worth it. The journey. The offhand treatment. The mud bath. Wouldn’t it all be worth it if he could just be healed?
Their powers of persuasion must have been fantastic because it worked. Their carefully aimed arrows of logic found a chink in the arrogant armor of the physically plagued warrior. He had to admit they were right. He didn’t really need more fame, fans, or awards. He needed healing. Even if it meant doing something ridiculous. His desire for wholeness overriding his annoyance and skepticism, Naaman grudgingly adjusted his hold on the reins and set out for the banks of the Jordan.
I wonder how long it took him to dismount. How long did he stand on the riverbank and stare at the revolting sludge before him? What was going through his mind? Fear. Worry. Anxiety. Revenge. Was he reminding himself of his wife and family at home who needed him to be well and whole? Was he assessing his expectations and attempting to mitigate possible disappointment? Was he mentally arranging Elisha’s painful demise should this treatment not have the desired effect? Whatever it was, he took from it his motivation and, in true warrior style, slogged into the disgusting Jordan river.
He should have brought a change of clothes. This was disgusting. Muddy water sluiced over his head and ran down his shoulders. Grit got in his eyes. How many more times was he supposed to do this? Five? Six? He didn’t see a difference. His skin was still a mess. But now he was determined to see it through. He’d been covered in worse things, endured messier battles. This was easy. Dip three. Dip four. He checked again. Still no improvement. Anxiety busily built a knot in his stomach. His nerves jangled. A relentless voice in his head taunted him with every dip underwater, every taste of grime. What if it was useless? What if this really was a waste of time? What if he didn’t come out changed, healed, whole?
Sucking in a deep breath, Naaman plunged again under the water. Dip seven. The final one. His exit this time would be the last. In less than a minute, he would know if soaking in filth had worked. He would know if Elisha was a prankster or a prophet. The suspense was terrible.
Rising slowly from the water and wiping dirt off his face, he braced himself for whatever might lie ahead. Good. Bad. Neutral. He was almost afraid to look. Afraid to believe something small and simple could yield amazing, lasting results. He couldn’t wait forever. Couldn’t stand in the shallow waters of the Jordan, hesitating for days on end. He didn’t have time for that. Drawing in a fortifying breath, he held out his arm and slowly lowered his gaze to inspect the skin.
Except there was nothing to inspect. No blemishes. No lesions. No discolored patches. Nothing. His skin hadn’t been this clean, this clear, this perfect since infancy! His wife might not even recognize him when he walked into the house. He was changed. He was different. He was new. Made so by simple obedience to a simple command to do a simple act that simply changed his life. (II Kings 5:1-14)
What would have happened if he hadn’t? What would have happened if Naaman had chosen to go home in a tantrum because he hadn’t been greeted with fanfare, been blessed by powerful hands, been healed at the utterance of a beautiful phrase? More importantly, what would have happened if his servants hadn’t stepped in, hadn’t spoken up? What if those men had been too afraid to intervene? What would have happened to Naaman?
Deformities. Disfigurement. Disability. That and more would have happened to Naaman. The proud warrior would have disintegrated in body and spirit before their very eyes. Had he walked away, his life would have essentially been over. Little by little he would have lost his ability to do the things his title demanded. He would have been demoted, downgraded, deleted. But those men courageously came with gentle words of logic and wisdom in an intervention that ultimately changed the trajectory of Naaman’s life.
Naaman’s servants were his heroes that day. Heroes of small things. A small choice to listen to the small voice in their heads and engage in a small conversation that led to a small change in plans, opening the way to a grand exhibition of God’s great love, grace, mercy, and power. Naaman would have missed his healing if they had missed their cue. He was headed home to draw the shades and weep in despair. He didn’t have to, because his heroes stepped in, spoke up, and encouraged him to do what God commanded.
I don’t know who needs you to step up for them today. I don’t know who needs to hear words of wisdom and encouragement from your lips. I know someone does. Someone you love. Someone you know. Someone you are about to meet. Someone you pass in the grocery aisle. Someone bogged down in the sandpit of depression. Someone mired in worry and care. Someone struggling with sin and resentment. Someone needs you to look beyond the edges of your own struggle, your own soul, your own world, follow the command of Jesus to feed his sheep, and speak words of love and grace to their weatherbeaten soul. Someone needs you to be a hero. (John 21:15-17; I Thessalonians 5:11; Hebrews 3:13, 10:24-25; Romans 14:19; Ephesians 4:15-16)
What would happen if you did? What would happen if you obeyed every single small command Jesus tells you to do? Immediately. Before the opportunity passes. Before the person walks away. Before you have time to evaluate the options, consider the results, or talk yourself out of action. Give the gift. Speak the words. Be faithful in the small things. Whose life could be changed because you cared, you prayed, you loved like Jesus? Maybe you will never know. Maybe they will never remember your name, recognize your face, or broadcast your work. Your name may never be up in lights. You might never speak your words to millions. Does it matter so long as someone, just one person, meets Jesus?
It shouldn’t. Being a hero isn’t about the glory, it’s about the faithfulness. In big things. In small things. Every day. No matter what. Just like Jesus preached in the New Testament. He said whoever would follow Him, whoever wanted to truly be His disciple, must lay aside themselves, their comforts, their desires, their wishes, take up their cross and follow Him. Daily. Not just when their mood was right. Not only when it was easy. Not simply when the people needing ministry were clean and wealthy. Not because of the fame it brought their name. He said, “Daily.” Rain. Shine. Sickness. Health. Good times. Bad times. Fame or obscurity. Don’t wait for only the big, flashy, public moments. Constantly be faithful to be busy doing the Father’s business. Be sensitive to the Spirit. Be someone’s hero by doing the small things that matter. Stand up. Step up. Speak up. (Luke 9:23; Matthew 10:38; Mark 8:34; John 2:5; Luke 16:10; Philippians 2:3-4)
wonderful insight to Naaman’s life and choices – thanks again Naomi for sharing the Word with so many especially me. May God’s hand of favor continue to be upon you as you sit at the feet of Jesus and pen to paper what the Holy Spirit reveals to you.
Blessings
Another wonderful insight! The answer to your questions of “what if”; we would never have known that the power of God was meant for ordinary things in our life as well as mighty acts like dividing the Red Sea. Had Naaman walked away his name would have never been mentioned in Scripture. He would have failed in being healed, but his greater failure would have been in so many people being inspired by his action and those of his hero’s. Steve+