M I G H T Y I N S P I R I T

Portion For Reading 2Kings 4-6
IN 2 KINGS 5:1, WE ARE INTRODUCED TO NAAMAN, a man at the top of his game. His very name means "pleasantness." He was an Aramean among Arameans, much as Paul was a "Hebrew of Hebrews." (Philippians 3:5) King Ben-hadad II of Damascus, ruler of Aram, regarded Naaman so highly that he trusted the man to command his army. He was a valiant soldier, seen by his countrymen as a deliverer and conqueror of nations, a great leader to be hailed along with their gods Rimmon, Baal, and Ishtar.

Naaman's reputation, fortune, and religion, however, had failed to give him the one thing he desired most—a cure for the leprosy that threatened his future with mutilation, blindness, isolation, and death.

In 800 B.C. lepers were viewed with fear and loathing. Dignitaries and officials who had once courted Naaman would now avoid him. Though mighty in battle, Naaman was losing field to the decay in his own body. His warrior code would prefer death by sword to wasting away at the mercy of this corrosive disease.

During one of Aram's many raids on its enemy Israel, a young Jewish girl had been abducted, separated from home and family, and pressed into slavery in Naaman's household. From her comment to her owner's wife, we can see God's mercy reflected in the girl: "I wish that my master were with the prophet who is in Samaria! Then he would cure him of his leprosy" (2 Kings 5:3).

That Naaman even considered the advice of an Israelite servant girl indicates he was essentially out of options. Aramean prophets and physicians worked for the king. (Edersheim, The Bible History, Old Testament) Naaman routinely accompanied King Ben-hadad to the temple of Rimmon to worship. (2 Kings 5:18) The priests of Rimmon and royal physicians had surely exhausted their prayers, spells, and most odorous potions to summon a miracle cure for their national hero.

Desperate for deliverance, Naaman asked Ben-hadad if he could go to the prophet in Samaria. The Aramean ruler, anxious to save this most valued commander, sent him into Israelite territory with instructions for King Jehoram to cure him.

The Jewish king, who equated curing leprosy with raising someone from the dead, wailed and tore his robes in despair. No one could cure this disease. Jehoram suspected treachery. After all, Aram was his enemy. He assumed Ben-hadad was setting him up by asking the impossible, and provoking war so he could plunder Israel.

King Jehoram's distraught cries reached Elisha the prophet, who sent for Naaman in order that "he shall know that there is a prophet in Israel" (2 Kings 5:8). Jehoram was an evil king who worshiped false gods, but he had seen Elisha's God work miracles before (2 Kings 3:20). He readily dispatched the Aramean.

Naaman, armor glistening, thundered to a stop outside Elisha's house. He looked down his aristocratic nose at the humble dwelling and waited as the army around him settled into silence. Much to Naaman's chagrin, Elisha did not grant him due respect by coming out to greet him, but sent his servant instead. The servant pronounced that the God of Israel would cure the commander if he dipped in the Jordan River seven times.

Angry heat crept up Naaman's neck. The star officer of Aram's army had contracted leprosy, been constrained to obey the advice of a slave girl, and traveled the long, dusty road to Elisha. Taking commands from a servant shredded the remnants of his ragged pride. The ridiculous instruction to dip seven times in the Jordan sent him into a rage. He had just traveled through that churning, muddy river to get to Samaria. "Are not Abanah and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?" he ranted. "Could I not wash in them and be clean?" (2 Kings 5:12). Where was the miraculous lightning, the waving of hands, the earthquake? Where was the pomp due his station? Infuriated, he wheeled his army and stormed back toward Damascus, which, in God's providence, lay on the other side of the Jordan.

We can imagine Naaman stopping to rest his troops next to the Jordan, watching the horses drink from the dark water, his attendants' question circling through his mind. Their argument made sense: "If the prophet had asked you to do some great thing, wouldn't you do it?" (2 Kings 5:13) Of course! He had commanded legions, conquered nations, and brought kings to their knees. He had sewn the very fabric of his life with "great things." He was a self-made man, goal-oriented and disciplined, with a razor-sharp mind. Why should he, the great Naaman, debase himself by dipping in the Jordan at the request of a washed-out old prophet whose God had left Israel defeated time and again?

Naaman had always done things his way—the right way, the best way. But still, his mottled skin . . . He was up against a monster that would devour him inch by fleshy inch.
What if it worked?

He laid his pride on the riverbank, slogged through the slippery mud, and waded into the Jordan.

He knelt in the stream and let the cold water rush over him. Nothing. He stood. How unsavory for a man of such rank. He dipped again. And again. He rose the seventh time, brushed the water from his eyes and saw that "his flesh was restored like the flesh of a little child and he was clean" (2 Kings 5:14). Naaman immediately knew that only the God of Israel could perform such a miracle. It was beyond anything he had ever witnessed. We can see him shouting at the top of his lungs and charging toward shore, leaping through the turbulence. "Behold now, I know that there is no God in all the earth, but in Israel" (2 Kings 5:15). Naaman had passed the greatest milestone of his success-strewn life. He knew then he would honor only the God who had cured him.

The commander returned to Elisha's dwelling, a little sheepishly, no doubt, after his tirade. He wanted to thank the prophet. Elisha conceded to talk to the humbled, healed Aramean.
Naaman tried to pay for the miracle with the gold and silver he had brought with him—over $400,000 in today's currency—but Elisha refused compensation. He wanted Naaman to understand that he was completely dependent on God's sufficiency. There was nothing he could do to earn, or pay for, his deliverance from the dread leprosy.

Naaman was a man of power and self-reliance who found himself helpless in the face of leprosy. He learned that true success meant relying on God's power.

Too often, we, like Naaman, go to God in our own strength with great plans to evangelize, to teach, to heal our own "leprosy"; however, God is not glorified in our strength, but, as He told Paul, His "power is perfected in weakness" (2 Corinthians 12:9). "Seek the LORD in His strength" (1 Chronicles 16:11). Then you, too, will "tell of His Glory among the nations" (v. 24) and "ascribe to the LORD the glory due His name" (v. 29).

By Patrick Davis

M I G H T Y I N S P I R I T

Portion For Reading 1 Sam 25-28
Message 1 Sam 25

Our emotions can sometimes be volatile, swinging effortlessly from contentment to bitter envy or from euphoric happiness to biting anger. All Christians struggle with the battle of who will be in control: the self-centered "flesh" or the Spirit, who infuses us with gentleness, patience, and self-control. (Galatians 5:17-25)

Not only do we have to deal with our own feelings and behavior; we also have to know how to respond to the emotions of those around us. You might experience the verbal hailstorm of a co-worker pushed over the edge by a demanding boss. As a parent, you may be surprised by your toddler's fierce explosion about a forbidden piece of candy, or confused by your teenager's outburst stemming from a broken heart. Either we can allow these emotional windstorms to suck us in, or we can act as agents of God's grace, restoring calmness and safety.

In 1 Samuel 25, we find the story of a woman who exhibited godly wisdom in the face of foolishness and raging tempers. Abigail demonstrated the healing influence we can exercise when everyone around us is behaving poorly—a godly influence that is desperately needed in our homes, our churches, and our communities.

In God's Word, Abigail is described as "intelligent and beautiful in appearance." Unfortunately she married her polar opposite. Her husband Nabal, whose name actually means "fool," is said to have been "harsh and evil in his dealings." (v. 3) Abigail's spouse was also quite rich and evidently very selfish with his wealth. In fact, his tightfistedness later ignited a fiery response from the future king of Israel.

David and his 600 men had been hiding in the hills, trying to elude a jealous King Saul. While in seclusion, these valiant soldiers were graciously protecting local shepherds and their sheep from bandits and wild animals. Nabal and his household benefited from their watchful care.
When David heard that Nabal was sheering his sheep and preparing for a celebration, he sent some men to collect a customary payment, instructing them to approach the landowner with due respect and humility. But Nabal insultingly refused to send David and his entourage any token of appreciation, and the messengers returned empty-handed. Nabal behaved true to his name.

It is noteworthy that in both chapters surrounding this story, David humbly spared the life of a man who was bent on taking his. Though King Saul continued to behave badly, David honorably refused to kill the man God had anointed as leader of Israel. In these two episodes, David conducted himself well, but in his dealings with Nabal, the future ruler came undone.
Not only did David answer in haste to Nabal's slanderous remarks and selfishness; he also went overboard in his response. He and about 400 men rode in to slaughter Nabal's household. Perhaps in David's continuous attempts to do the honorable thing, he had taken about as much as even a good man could handle.

Abigail must have already proven herself to be compassionate, levelheaded, and resourceful, for a distraught servant immediately ran to her with the news of his master's shameful behavior. Not hesitating to become involved, the mistress of the house gathered up a bountiful feast for David and his men, saddled a donkey, and ventured out to face trouble head-on.
As soon as she saw David, Abigail dismounted and fell on her face before him. The soon-to-be king may or may not have been instantly taken with her outstanding physical beauty, but her humility caused him to stop in his tracks.

After insisting that the blame for Nabal's foolishness fall on her shoulders, Abigail requested permission to speak and asked David to listen patiently. (v. 24) While begging for him to demonstrate restraint, she continuously showed him honor and respect. She addressed him as "my lord" on eight occasions and referred to herself as his maidservant almost as many times.
Abigail assured David that while Nabal mockingly asked, "Who is David?" she knew very well who he was. He was the future "ruler over Israel." (v. 30)

Throughout her plea for mercy, Abigail reminded David of who he was and where he was going. This wise lady kindly but firmly steered him away from thoughts of retaliation by recalling Gods promise of "an enduring house." (v. 28) While David seemed focused solely on immediate revenge, she reminded him of God's plans for his life. She encouraged him to look past his momentary anger to his future.

The Bible is sprinkled throughout with accounts of God both calling forth storms and causing them to cease. But in this passage, we see how God used Abigail to calm a storm of a different nature.

So often when people around us explode with destructive emotion, be it anger or jealousy, self-pity or impatience, we find that they have somehow temporarily lost their way. The here and now can be all-consuming, and problems easily get blown out of proportion. Abigail's example shows us how to re-cast a vision for the hurting person so that he or she can once again see things from God's perspective.

Abigail could have chosen to treat David as the enemy, a man charging toward her household with revenge burning in his heart; instead, she chose to regard him as a man of God who had momentarily lost his way. David lost his temper, his composure, and his sense of right and wrong. Abigail helped him to find these again by confronting him in humility and speaking to him with respect. Her humble posture, gift of grace, and affirming words gradually opened David's raging heart so that he could hear her refreshing words of reason. Might people in our circle of influence be more willing to listen to our counsel if we first pave the way with humble respect?

But Abigail didn't just demonstrate how to treat others who have lost control of their emotions; she also showed us what to say to them. She simply and reverently spoke truth. Abigail reminded David of his God-ordained destiny as king of Israel. She gently convinced him that the Lord would provide for and protect His chosen while easily disposing of David's enemies. Finally, she reminded David that it would not be wise to needlessly shed blood or avenge himself. These truths may have stung David's raw and emotional heart at first, but, like ointment applied to an open sore, they soon began to heal his wounded pride. When emotions are high and logic is skewed, truth is our best choice as well.

Is it any wonder that David, completely taken with Abigail's wisdom and beauty, responded to her with blessing and heartfelt appreciation? The Bible goes on to tell of Nabal's death by God's hand and the Israelite leader's marriage proposal to Abigail, but the happy ending is most evidenced by the softening of David's heart and the preservation of his integrity. Because Abigail bravely stepped forward with humility and truth, the storm winds subsided, and a king fulfilled his destiny.

By Kay Harms