Sermonstudio

The lives of the rich and famous hold a strange fascination
for those of us who do not find ourselves in that category. From
a very surface view it is easy to envy their glamorous and
opulent lifestyles. How we'd like to be like them. We could
really enjoy having their money, or their influence, or the
adulation of the people who crowd around them. How nice it would
be to have the athletic prowess of Michael Jordan, or the good
looks and acting talent of a Tom Cruise or Geena Davis, the voice
of Luciano Pavarotti or Natalie Cole. Is there any one of us who
would not like to be cast in the limelight of fame and fortune,
at least for a while? And living in a posh house with the choice
of a luxury car or so and a sports car wouldn't be bad either, or
meeting other famous people, or taking vacations in exotic places
around the world. Sounds great, doesn't it? Anyone want to sign
up?
Of course I forgot to tell you that you have to sign up for
the whole package, not just for the good stuff. Those are the
rules. I told you this was just a surface view, from which we
mostly tend to see the good stuff and imagine those people are
somehow immune to the feelings of frustration and the trials and
problems and griefs that you and I experience. Stop and think for
a moment of a few in the public eye. Marilyn Monroe spent her
life with the gnawing pain of feeling unloved,

and eventually committed suicide. Howard Hughes, for all his
intellect and inventive genius and money, spent the last years of
his life shut off from the world in seclusion and semi darkness,
with an obsession about germs. Handsome Rock Hudson died of AIDS,
and the ever-cheerful Magic Johnson has the virus, too. John
Belushi died of a drug overdose, as have so many others. Comedian
Johnny Carson suffered the pain of failed marriages and the
tragic death of a son he loved dearly. The storybook marriage of
Prince Charles and Princess Diana has problems, also. We know for
certain that the tabloid reporters have made it a living hell for
them. So you see the rich and famous, the talented and important
people are not immune from the real problems of real life. Anyone
still want to sign up?
The story from 2 Kings for today is about a man named Naaman
who was famous in his time. He was commanding general of the
greatest army in the world -- the army of Syria (or Aram), the
superpower of its day. At his word people jumped to do his
bidding. He could have just about anything he wanted, or could
command that it be done or brought. He had everything --
everything, that is, except his health. You see, General Naaman
had leprosy. To have leprosy in that time was a slow and terrible
death sentence. Like AIDS, in the early stages only he would
know. A bit later only a few others who knew him intimately would
know. But eventually everybody would know. And the fear of
leprosy in that time was such that those who had it were
condemned to a life of isolation from all other people, and
eventually to die apart from their family and loved ones. In
modern times we've learned that true leprosy is not all that
contagious, and that people who have it need not be sent away to
leper colonies for fear of their giving it to someone else. But
in that time it resulted in an unreasoned fear that condemned its
victims to pain far beyond the disease itself.
I wonder what of his fame or power or fortune Naaman might
have given just to have good health once again. I have sat by the
bedside of quite a number of people who would have

willingly bargained with anything at their disposal to regain
their health. One man with lung cancer whispered, "I'd give
anything just to be able to take a deep breath again."
I've heard others wish they could give anything to be free of
pain, or to be able to walk again. And they probably would give
anything they had for that. The problem is that when our health
fails we often do give up everything we have in terms of monetary
and property resources and still lose the battle. If you have not
been in that position you certainly know or have heard of someone
who has. That's exactly where Naaman was, in a state of
desperation where he was ready to try anything -- but what?
Luckily enough there was a young captive servant girl who had
an idea. She knew of a certain man in Samaria who just might
help. He was a religious man -- a prophet named Elisha. There is
nothing to indicate that Naaman had any religious inclinations of
his own, but we know that when desperate enough, people are often
willing to try something they might otherwise avoid. That
inclination is where the term foxhole religion comes from, where
in the heat of battle even the faithless turn to faith.
Naaman was lucky enough to have influence at the top -- even
with the king. So the king of Aram wrote a letter to the king of
Israel, and gave Naaman generous gifts he thought appropriate for
someone who would cure the general of his army. Off went Naaman
to seek the prophet Elisha, perhaps thinking the prophet would
say prayers over him, or offer a sacrifice to his God, or give
him some magical curative potion. But if that was his expectation
he was to be disappointed. The biblical story paints an
interesting picture of Naaman wheeling up to Elisha's house in a
cloud of dust with chariots and horses and soldiers. It must have
been an impressive sight -- at least to anyone but Elisha. Now
imagine this! General Naaman, used to commanding people to come
and go, or even to lay down their lives in battle, didn't even
get to see the prophet. Elisha didn't even come out of his house.
He sent out an intermediary with the prescription for Naaman,
which was to dip seven times into the Jordan River.

In his anger borne of some arrogance Naaman was, as the saying
goes, fit to be tied, and he turned away in a rage. Of all the
mighty rivers he could have washed in, why the Jordan? You might
wonder that, too, if you have ever seen the Jordan. While in
rainy times it may flow a pretty good stream, it is not the
"mighty Jordan" that a songwriter imagined, or that Sunday school
illustration artists have sometimes painted. The Jordan is only a
few yards wide in most places, and rather sluggish. One is not
apt to be swept away by its current. So, to wade out and bathe in
this torpid tributary was beneath Naaman's dignity.
It is interesting that again Naaman's help comes from a very
humble source. The original idea to seek out Elisha, you
remember, came from a slave girl -- a servant to Naaman's wife.
Now it is an ordinary soldier who brings Naaman to his senses.
What is there to lose, after all? "If the prophet had commanded
you to do something difficult, would you not have done it? How
much more, when all he said to you was 'Wash, and be clean?' " So
Naaman swallowed his pride and bathed, and to his surprise his
flesh became like that of a young child. He was cured.
Mark's gospel tells a much simpler story of a man, apparently
of more humble means and demeanor than mighty Naaman. This man
also was a leper and came and prostrated himself at Jesus' feet
and implored him to be cured. And Jesus stretched out his hand
and touched him, and the leprosy left him. The prescription for
his restoration to the community was deceptively simple. "Go and
show yourself to the priest." The priest was the only one who
could declare the man free of his leprosy. But Jesus wished the
healing to carry with it a spiritual obligation, so he told the
man to make the offering that Moses had commanded as testimony
for his cleansing. Then contrary to Jesus' warning not to tell
anybody, the man could not contain his joy over his cure and
proclaimed it to everyone, so that soon Jesus could hardly go
into a town because people came to him from every direction.

The two stories may seem dissimilar, except that powerful and
arrogant Naaman and the man who humbly approached Jesus were both
lepers. The stories are similar in that, in both cases, the
lepers were put in touch with the power of God that was already
there.
The stories are also similar in that both men were cured
immediately. That is certainly what we want -- to be cured. To be
put in touch with the power of God is somehow not as specific as
most of us would like. We want the tangible evidence -- the cure.
Naaman, you remember, had his own idea of what the prophet ought
to do. So do we sometimes when we want to see something
happening. "He didn't do anything for me," we hear people
complain of their physicians, as though there is always something
that can be done. And when there is something seriously wrong
with us we don't want to see some underling! Forget whatever
credentials may be on the office wall. We want to see the person
at the top -- the one in charge -- because when we are hurting and
have that feeling of desperation within us ours is the most
important case there is. "I think that for me he would surely
come out," said Naaman at the prophet's door. The entire focus of
life narrows down to getting cured. Of course it does! We all
want to be whole and healthy. But it doesn't always happen that
way, and in the narrowing process we may shut out or not realize
the power of God to bring healing and life to us in other ways.
If Naaman had not been cured he probably would have returned
home thinking the God of Israel was powerless after all. If the
Galilean leper had not been healed he might have thought Jesus a
fraud, or at least not so remarkable a healer as he had heard.
Both of these were success stories of the sort we like to hear.
We want it to be that way for us, too. I wonder, do you suppose
there were some people who came to Jesus whom he could not or at
least did not cure? Did he have to tell anyone, "I'm sorry.
There's nothing more I can do for you?" If we pray to God for
help, or a cure, or for a certain outcome and it does not happen,
do we conclude that God is

powerless or not interested, or that prayer is ineffective? Or do
we, perhaps, decide that there is not a God after all? If
physical healing is the only thing we will settle for then we may
be sadly disappointed. If the only answer to our prayers and
petitions is for someone to pass his hand over the place, or
discover the magical potion just in time, then we have put very
narrow limits upon the power of God in our lives.
Naaman had to get down off his horse and get into the muddy
river. We have to get down off the pillar of our denial to face
the reality of our situation and know what is really possible. We
do not live in a magical world. There are not cures for
everything. The parents of one young man I know who had cancer
were so convinced that the doctors didn't know everything and
there had to be a cure for him, that they went to a psychic
reader for answers. But eventually they had to face the sad
reality that their beloved son was going to die, which he did
with dignity and grace, and the inner strength and confidence
from a loving God. He was released from the body of pain that had
held him prisoner. While we seek every possibility for healing of
our bodies, there are times when we must recognize that release
we call death is the ultimate "cure" in situations where there is
no hope of recovery. In our own fear of what is before us, and
our desire to be healed, what we need most desperately is to be
put in touch with the healing presence and love of God. We lose
touch sometimes, you know. When a cataclysmic event comes into
our lives -- the death of a loved one, cancer, AIDS, you name it --
we may find ourselves at that moment unprepared, denying,
resisting, and unable to immerse ourselves in the earthy river of
God's love. We need somebody. And God sends us somebody. For
Naaman it was a servant girl, a concerned king, a prophet, and a
common soldier. For the Galilean man, it was Jesus alone.
When I was just a young boy, my sister, 14 years older, was
killed in a plane crash. Our family was devastated. My parents
each tried to deal with the grief in their own way and to help
each other. I remember for my father that meant

keeping busy at his work. I remember one Saturday he took me out
in the orchard to work with him, but several times he dissolved
into tears, and we decided to head home. But on the way home he
decided to go see an old woman -- a long-time family friend -- who
lived with her daughter's family nearby. She was older than my
own grandmother, and spent most of her time rocking and knitting.
She was not well educated. That was considered unnecessary for
most women of her generation. She spoke with a slow Alabama
drawl. I remember her Bible was never very far away from her and
she apparently read it often, and I remember her kind of half-
humming, half-singing some religious song now and then.
We arrived and went in, and she seemed to know what to do. She
held him while he poured out his grief, and then she just quietly
talked to us both. Then she said a prayer, and that was it. Ever
so simple, but it was enough. It wasn't what we would have liked
if we had had our choice, which was the restoration of our lost
loved one in our midst, but the connection was restored and the
healing power of the presence of God flowed once again. Grief can
sometimes stand in the way of that presence, and it takes a
friend to encourage us to step down into the stream. The words of
an old spiritual song encourage us, saying, "Wade in the water.
Wade in the water, children."
Whatever the illness or pain or sorrow that may be affecting
your life at this moment, there is help. It may not be the
magical cure you would like, but it is healing to the inner life
that will enable you to bear up under whatever burden you must
carry. Each of us needs to know we are not alone. The love of God
touches us with the same compassion as Jesus touched that man in
the Galilean village. If we are out of touch with the power of
God in our lives that contact can be restored, through the simple
ministrations of those who care enough to sit with us, talk with
us, encourage us, and love us. Those things seem deceptively
simple, but they are tremendously important.
There are times when we may even be the angels of God's love
to bring healing to the life of a friend. Sometimes we say that
we "don't know what to do" for someone who is ill or

grieving or lonely. The answer is simple. Do the simple things.
Do the thing that helps you when you are in a similar situation.
Share a bit of time. Bring a bit of cheer. Stop by to visit for a
few minutes, but listen more than talk. And, if you can, say a
prayer before you leave. The words are not so important. It is
the love that makes contact. The important thing to know is that
God moves through us to one another. We are channels of God's
grace. We are channels of the healing stream of God for all the
ills of the whole world -- the illness and the pain. Don't wait
for someone else. Go! We're the ones who are sent -- you and I. If
we don't go, who will?