By Jack Wyman

He was powerful. He was famous.

He was celebrated. He was a fearless leader of men.

He was sick.

General Naaman was a leper. The dreaded skin disease was serious, painful and fatal. Thousands of years ago, there was no cure for leprosy. We learn of Naaman in the fifth chapter of II Kings, in the Old Testament of the Bible.

His story begins with his military achievements. We read that the King of Aram had great admiration for Naaman because of his genius and courage on the battlefield. He’s “a mighty warrior.” Still, there was no denying that this great general “suffered from leprosy.”

In spite of all he that he was, all that he’d done—all his recognition, power, and success—Naaman had this terrible disease that knew no cure. No mighty command from a general could heal it; no wave of the baton could remove it. No charging army could conquer it.

In this, the powerful general was helpless.

When he was diagnosed with cancer, President Grover Cleveland, a big, burly man who was once a no-nonsense sheriff back in Buffalo, said of his illness, “I suddenly realized how weak the strongest man can be.”

Naaman is a reminder to us that we possess no control over our health, hope and try as we might. Sickness often strikes with indiscriminate ruthlessness. It underscores our frailty.

Naaman’s wife had a young servant girl. She was Jewish, taken captive during one of Aram’s raids on Israel. One evening, the girl spoke to her mistress:

“I wish my master would go to see the prophet in Samaria. He would heal him of his leprosy”

We do not know this girl’s name. We do not know the details of her young life, or how she ended up at Naaman’s home. She makes no further appearance in the scriptures or in history. We know she is brave. We know she sees and cares. Her young heart goes out to Naaman.

She is present by Providence.

This girl—utterly without pedigree, position or power—risks her life to help one of the most powerful men in the land of Aram. How often God has chosen the little and unlikely things of this world to move the mighty.

There’s something else about her. She knows there is a prophet. She knows he’s in Samaria. She knows he would heal Naaman of his leprosy. How does she know this? It’s a mystery. She’s also apparently convincing. Naaman’s wife tells him and he goes to the King of Aram. Naaman’s desperate enough to try anything—even following the advice of a young slave girl.

With an entourage of gifts of gold and silver, and a letter of introduction from his king, Naaman heads off to see the King of Israel. “With this letter I present my servant Naaman. I want you to heal him of his leprosy.”

You want me to do what?

Understandably, the King of Israel goes into a rattled tailspin. He accuses the King of Aram of provoking a confrontation. “This man sends me a leper to heal! Am I God, that I can give life and take it away?”

“Send Naaman to me,” says the prophet Elisha, “and he will learn there is a true prophet in Israel.” General Naaman shows up at Elisha’s humble doorstep with a large and regal military escort, loaded with his silver and gold. The accoutrements of privilege and prestige.

The prophet doesn’t even come to the door. Instead, he sends a servant out with instructions. “Go to the Jordan River and wash yourself seven times. Do this and you will be healed of your leprosy.”

Enter pride.

This mighty general, who is accustomed to giving orders rather than taking them, is deeply offended. He’s angry. His ego has been wounded. Obviously, this prophet doesn’t know who he’s dealing with.

“I thought he would certainly come out to meet me!” Naaman yells in a fit of rage. “I expected him to wave his hand over the leprosy and call on the name of the Lord his God and heal me!”

Naaman was expecting Benny Hinn in a white satin suit to place his hand on the general’s forehead and proclaim, “heal!” That would have been glorious, dramatic, and immediate. A fitting remedy for a mighty man of valor. Instead, a soft-spoken, shuffling servant tells him to take a swim in a muddy river.  

Naaman turned and stalked away.

“Why this river? Why not in Damascus, Abana, or Pharpar? Are there not far grander rivers there than any in Israel? I’ll wash in those. There are other ways.”

Pride has caused more estrangements, heartaches, divisions; led to more broken marriages, families, friendships and churches, and has been the source of more conflicts and wars, than any other single vice on earth. Pride has kept men and women from heaven.

“Pride is tasteless, colorless, and size-less,” it has been observed, “yet it is the hardest thing to swallow.”

Pride might also have killed this obstinate man. Fortunately for General Naaman, his officers talked sense to his stubborn heart and mind.  “If this man of God had asked you to do something more difficult, you’d gladly have done it. Your life is at stake. Why not go down to the Jordan, wash and be cured?”

It took a little time for Naaman to think this over. Time to dismount his high horse and go down—the way we must all go, sooner or later. 

Not to cure ourselves, but to be cured. Not to justify ourselves, but to be justified in Christ. Not to praise our good deeds, but to confess our unworthiness. To wash in the Jordan of God’s forgiveness and healing. To humble ourselves and to be cleansed of sin.

Naaman did. He was cured of his leprosy—and his pride.

He went back to Elisha.

“Now I know that there is no God in all the world, except in Israel.”

The way down is the way up. The only way.

To order Jack Wyman’s book, “Everything Else: Stories of LIfe, Faith and Our World”, go to amazon.com, Christian Book Distributors or barnesandnoble.com. It is also available on Kindle and eBooks.

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