TheoTrek — A Journey with God in Discipleship
Astounded by God
2 Kings 5:1-14; Psalm 30:1-12; Mark 1:40-45; 1 Corinthians 9:24-27
Rev. Chris Harbin, Central Baptist Church—Lowesville, VA
15 February 2009
He worshipped a God of surprises—the Holy One of Israel who had healed Naaman. How well he knew Naaman's story. Every Jew had heard it, of course. However, since becoming a leper, he had thought and meditated on the story far more than your average Jew. He had almost come to the conclusion that there was something wrong in the account. The Holy One had healed that obnoxious foreigner of his leprosy, but had seemingly never healed one of the chosen people. It was like God had wasted healing grace on an unworthy foreigner in the employ of that enemy king of Aram.
Why?! How could the Holy One be gracious to such unworthy objects of grace, while ignoring the plight of the people called by "The Name." Wasn't it clear that the reputation of the Holy One of Israel was at stake? How could this idolatrous foreigner and his king be the only ones to see the power of Israel's God in rescuing one from leprosy? After all, Aram's king had been spoiling for a fight. That would have been a grand occasion for the Holy One to route the foreign power with a military victory to speak of for generations, rather than stoop to heal this servant of leprosy. On the other hand, if leprosy were no big deal, why not heal the lepers in Israel, too?
Oh, he had heard the story of Naaman. He had mediated on it. He had looked at it from enough angles to make most folks dizzy. He had even wondered how he might become a servant to a foreign king to make himself worthy of God's attention! His only conclusion was that God had not really been so concerned with Naaman, as much as concerned with staving off war between Israel and Aram. Healing Naaman had been the lesser of the issues from God's perspective. For this man, however, it was a consuming need.
Leprosy had come to define him. He was no longer the man he had been. He could no longer care for his wife and children. He was forced to live outside the city walls, crying aloud with the others in the band to warn people of their presence. From being a stable member of the community, he had become an outcast, unwanted, one whose presence was feared due to a dread of contamination. He no longer had a life. There was no job he might undertake. There was no hope for earning a living. He was forced to beg and live at the mercy—and animosity—of the people.
He had not just lost a job or retirement portfolio. He had not simply lost a home to foreclosure. He had lost any hope of recovery barring some wholly implausible miraculous intervention. Without God's direct intervention, he had no hope at all. He was doomed to watch disease eat his body piece by piece as he lost the feeling in his extremities, ears, nose, and lips. Life had become little more than a miserable existence, made all the worse for the memory of what once had been. There was no hope.
How could Naaman have been so lucky!? How had he managed to get the attention of the holy One of Israel? How had he managed not to have been cast out of the king's court? How had it been possible for him to remain in the company of the king's men and not been forced to cry out, "Unclean!" all day long? He didn't really wish that Naaman had not found God's healing through Elisha, but he definitely wanted to see the same degree of divine notice for himself and the other lepers with whom he eked out a weary existence. He had prayed and fasted to no avail. Well, fasting was mostly forced on him, due to leprosy. Regardless, there had been no answer to his cries. It was as if God, too, were keeping him at bay, afraid to come too close.
Then he started overhearing talk of this itinerant rabbi who was healing people and casting out demons. This Jesus, as they called him, had been down to Capernaum and healed plenty of people there. He had then begun traveling around Galilee, preaching, teaching, healing, and casting out demons. Word was out that there was something very different about this man. People were beginning to flock to him, asking him to care for their personal burdens. He seemed willing and able to heal them all.
It was hard not to get his hopes up. At the same time, it was hard to believe there was any hope to be had. From the little he could piece together of overheard talk, this Jesus did not worry with a lot of ceremony surrounding his healing and exorcism ministry. More like Elisha—the prophet who had healed Naaman—he just issued a command and expected results. The leper was afraid of hope. He had lived without it for so long. He was afraid of losing hope once and for all. As long as Jesus' helping was still an untested question, he didn't have to face the prospect of losing hope forever. He wanted release, but it just could not be possible that there was a way out—could it?
Might there really be another prophet on the scene along the lines of Elisha? That had been centuries ago, long before even the deportation of Israel and the Judean exile to Babylon. They did not make them like that, anymore. Why, the miracles God had done through Elisha had never seen their equal outside of stories of Moses and Joshua. There were only three stories or so of Elijah, the most celebrated of all the prophets. That did not hold a candle to the miracles reported in Elisha's story. Elisha was the only one ever recorded to have been used by God to heal anyone of leprosy.
He struggled with even thinking about pleading his case before this Jesus. Hope hung by a thread, and he was ever so leery of being disappointed one last time. Was there any way God would give him the attention he so craved? He did not deserve it, but then neither had Naaman. Realistically, he had nothing to lose. He just could not bear to risk shutting the only potential door of hope with utter finality. Maybe it would be better not to even attempt to ask Jesus for healing. The crowds would never let him through, anyhow. They just assumed he was existing, biding his time, under God's judgment. If God did not care for him, why should they?
When he heard that Jesus was passing his way, he decided to take the risk. He couldn't bear to be disappointed, but he had nothing to live for, otherwise. Leprosy had killed any prospects of life. He forced his way through the crowds, shouting "Unclean!" until he found himself at Jesus' feet. He knelt before Jesus, begging and saying, "If you so choose, you can make me clean." Jesus touched him.
It had been a long time since anyone had dared to do so. Jesus touched him, and said, "I do so choose. Be clean!" You can't imagine the impact of that touch. You can't imagine the impact of those words. He could not restrain the joy that burst through his meager hope suddenly become reality. He was compelled to share with everyone what had happened. He was astounded by what God had done. He could not contain his joy over this new lease on life granted by Jesus' touch and gift of healing.
What do we do when we are surprised by God's touch, presence, and interaction in our lives? Are we willing to allow God to astound us? He had almost not come to Jesus, as Naaman had almost turned away from being healed. He clung to a tight little box within which God should live and act. Will we allow God the freedom to shake up our expectations and be present in ways we would not predict? What do we truly risk if we refuse to allow God to take us in directions we find uncomfortable?
—©2009 Christopher B. Harbin