Easy Does It

2 Kings 5:1-14

Maybe Naaman had poison ivy. Or athletes’ foot. Or acne. Maybe he had a fungus or psoriasis. Whatever he did have it was almost certainly not Hansen’s disease, what we know today as “leprosy”—that horrible and disfiguring malady that eats away fingers and faces and forces people into colonies. Whatever the general had, it was bad enough that all the king’s horses and all the king’s men couldn’t control the itch or make him sleep easily at night. No cream, poultice, or powder was working. The mighty Syrian general, blessed by God in war, was conquered by a rash.

The up side is that many generals tend to be a little cranky, and maybe the irritation helped make him a terror to his enemies. Still, he was tired of the irritation and also out of ideas. Naaman’s wife was also at a loss. She suggested oatmeal baths—he said he would rather itch. She made an extra pilgrimage to the temple of Hadad and gave an extra offering to the priest who promised to say an extra prayer for Naaman’s skin—no relief. Just when she had decided to visit her mother for an extended while, her slave girl—captured, apparently, during one of Naaman’s God-blessed and successful raids—told her mistress that back in the old country there was a prophet who could cure Naaman in nothing flat.

The girl told the wife. The wife told the general. The general told his king. The king gave Naaman both leave and letters and told him to go quickly to Israel and get himself fixed. Naaman packed his chariot with lots of money, lots of clothes, lots of gifts for the prophet. He stopped by the king of Israel’s house on the way—gave him the letters his own king had sent along—and Israel’s king went into histrionics, tore his clothes, and cried like a baby, “Am I God, to deal death or give life, that this fellow writes to me to cure a man of leprosy. He is trying to pick a fight with me!”

Elisha, meanwhile, could barely keep from laughing when he heard all that had transpired. The slave-girl commanding a general, the Hebrew king wailing like a child. No one had the first clue as to what to do next. So Elisha hails the king of Israel: “Calm down. Don’t tear your clothes. Send him to me.”

Soon Naaman and his entourage came to Elisha’s house in an impressive display of armaments and wealth. Anyone else would have been impressed or maybe even a little scared, but Elisha didn’t bother to put down his paper or get out of his chair. He sent his servant to tell the high and mighty general to go take a bath in the Jordan river— seven of them, in fact.

Naaman was understandably incensed. A skin irritation was one thing; this kind of annoyance was another. He had expected some word from the prophet, some gesture, some incantation or genuflection—and some respect, too—and all he got was a guest pass into the Jordan (and not that great a river at that). The general spun in a rage (it is amazing he did not think to torch the house) and stormed off—still scratching as he went.

Then his servants approached him. “Father,” they said—and here we get the sense there may be more to this man than his rage and his reputation: his servants could approach him, even when he was angry, and address him in such a way—“if the prophet had asked you do to something hard, would you have done it?”

The answer, of course, was yes. We are all ready to do the hard thing, whether generals or the general population.

“So why not do the easy thing?” Why not, indeed? So this time the old warhorse did as his servants advised. He went down to the river to wash, seven times took his baths and came out with skin as smooth as a little boy’s.

Easy does it. At least, easy did it for Naaman.

The lesson for the morning ends here, but there is a bit more to the story. Naaman went back to Elisha’s, tried to give the prophet all the money and clothes and gifts he had brought for him. Elisha refused. He as much as said: “I am not a witch doctor. The power belongs to God, not me. If you want to make an offering, give your gifts to God.”

“Okay, then give me something,” the general said, which is a stunning request coming from one who is used to taking what he wants, whether slave girls or territories. “Let me take some of the earth, two mule-loads, so that I can kneel on it when I pray. Please forgive me when I have to help my king worship at the temple of Hadad. I will worship no other God but yours, the Lord.”

Elisha gave him leave to go in peace, which he did.

It is an easy story to enjoy, fun and full of irony. Yet, if we scratch the surface of this narrative we find all sorts of troubling notions—at least to those who claim God’s special favor. That a pagan general can be a tool in the hand of God to humble God’s own people, that God might grant preferential treatment to a “foreigner” rather than to one of his own chosen, that the upper classes are finally dependent on the lower classes and quite unable to heal themselves. No wonder that, when Jesus reminded the people in his hometown synagogue that “there were many lepers in Israel during the time of Elisha the prophet but God healed none of them, only Naaman the Syrian,” they very nearly killed him for saying so. (Thomas Steagald)

What Is the Prize if I Win?

1 Corinthians 9:24-27

I admire driven people. I have a friend who is in his late sixties. Most men his age are retired. He is very well off financially and could easily retire with them, but last year he made $750,000, and he is convinced that he can beat that number this year if just a few things fall his way.

Anna, a student who works with me, is training to run a half marathon. She has run several 5k races, but she is pushing herself to the next level. I admire her too.

I have another friend from college; he’s in his mid-forties like me. He keeps posting his impressive running times on Facebook. I wish he would just stop.

No, the truth is I admire all of them. As I said, I’m impressed by driven people. I’m up working on this sermon at 7:00 a.m. on my spring break. I hope you are impressed. Yesterday, I worked in my office from 6:30 a.m. to 4:30 p.m. When I got to the office yesterday, Tom’s car was already there. Tom is a wealthy man in his early seventies, and his car is always in the parking lot before mine. Do you admire driven people as much as I do?

There is a fierce discipline that attends driven people. They have a commitment to push beyond the limits of the last attempt and to push for a faster time, more revenue, and heavier weights.

Golfers tell the story of a group of men at a PGA tournament who were watching one of their favorite pros hit golf balls on the driving range to warm up before his match. One spectator said to his friend, “I’d give anything to hit a 7-iron like that.” The pro overheard him and walked over to where they were standing and said, “No, you would not give anything to hit a 7-iron like that. I’ve hit golf balls on a driving range until my hands bleed. Then, I’ve taped my hands and continued to hit. If you were willing to do that, you would hit a 7-iron like I hit it.”

The admiration of that kind of discipline was just as fervent in ancient Greece. One great venue for athletic accomplishment was the Isthmian Games, which were held in Corinth every two years. Since they did not have ESPN, there was no overexposure to athletic triumph and the celebration of these disciplined athletes. Large crowds gathered to see chiseled bodies and disciplined minds compete with every ounce of competitive drive. The athletes called upon hours of disciplined training, and the people cheered the great drama of sport and applauded their great admiration for the discipline and sacrifice. In the end, there was only one winner of each competition, and the judges hung a wreath of dried wild celery around the winner’s neck while the crowds roared in admiration.

Paul draws upon the heroic images of discipline and sacrifice and enslavement to a cause and invites us to a new vision. How do we discipline ourselves in the same admirable, driven way to serve the community instead of serving self? How do we exercise self-control and focus, so that we are not running aimlessly or boxing the air? How do we enslave ourselves to a discipline that does not hear the sound of cheering fans but offers more than a wreath of celery?

When I was a hospital chaplain intern at Emory University Hospital, I visited a man in his mid-thirties who was dying. He was attended by his two brothers from out of town. Sitting in the waiting area outside the hospital room, one brother said to me, “We stayed last night in my brother’s condo downtown. He has three closets there filled with custom-made suits, and now he’s in a hospital gown that looks like everybody else’s. I drove over early in my brother’s Jaguar. My other brother came later in his BMW. What I’m trying to say is that right now everything that was so important to my brother isn’t worth a darn.”

We have all known competitive people who drive themselves to see how many “toys” they can accumulate. But we have also known some Christ followers who are disciplined and enthusiastic about pushing themselves to serve others. Most of my real heroes fall into this second category. Who comes to mind for you? Who do you know who is most fiercely committed to serving as an agent of blessing to others?

I know a young couple in Atlanta with a baby just a few months old. They are living frugally on the husband’s salary. They have chosen to live modestly, and they have chosen to live in one of Atlanta’s most crime ridden areas so that the wife can volunteer at the elementary school. They do not have children at the elementary school, but this couple makes a deep sacrifice so that she can help children read and show them love that is motivated by commitment to Christ. The couple is disciplined and driven and certainly not boxing the air.

Paul tells us to run in such a way as to get the prize. Sacrifice and discipline your mind and body to work for others, give to the enduring glory of God’s kingdom, and serve others. With fierce discipline, enslave yourself to the gospel and to the everlasting contribution of giving your life away as a blessing to others.

Or, you can just get up early and work hard to win the other prizes. You could even end up with a celery wreath. (Dock Hollingsworth)