Village Shepherd

There was a celebrity game show on British television in which selected celebrities were expected to face their own worst nightmares. Thus someone with a phobia for snakes had to put his arm into a tank full of writhing snakes, someone with a phobia for spiders was expected to handle a tarantula and someone with a fear of heights was asked to perform a parachute jump. Needless to say, the publicity was enormous and the pay immense, but even so I could not have done some of the things those celebrities were asked to do.

There is no sum of money that would induce me to put my arm into a tank of snakes and neither would I be too enamoured about spending the night in a rat-infested cellar.

We all have our limits. Some of us reach those limits more quickly than others.

For some, the issue isn't about phobias or fear, but is about status. There are those who would never perform menial tasks because they would consider those menial tasks to be beneath them and conversely there are those who would never perform up-front public tasks because they wouldn't consider themselves to be important enough to stand above other people.

Some people have honesty limits and some do not. Some declare every penny on their income tax returns because their honesty compels them to do so. Others aren't above ignoring the odd bundle of savings stashed away here and there in some little known account, as long as they aren't spotted.

Some time around 800 BC when Naaman the Syrian army commander discovered that he had leprosy, he was devastated. He searched high and low for a cure for this terrible disease, but none was forthcoming. When his wife's Hebrew slave girl timidly mentioned a famous healer in her own country of Samaria, Naaman was like the proverbial drowning man grabbing at a straw. He prepared his entourage of slaves and luggage, horses and chariots and expensive gifts, and set off for the long journey to Samaria and the prophet Elisha.

He expected to be treated with dignity and respect or at the very least, with common courtesy. But Elisha the prophet was no respecter of persons and had no time for pomp and ceremony. He made it clear how little regard he held for Naaman by not even appearing in order to examine Naaman and ascertain his condition. But he did care for him as a human being in need, for he simply sent a somewhat off-hand message instructing Naaman to swim in the filthy waters of the Jordan river.

Who knows what else was swimming in the Jordan? Who knows what hidden dangers lurked beneath its surface? Who knows what infection Naaman might pick up from the dirty water? And Naaman moreover, had come from Damascus where the mountain springs produced rivers which were noted for their crystal-clear purity.

Naaman had his limits. He had almost reached them when he was treated with such disdain by Elisha, but the thought of bathing in the murky waters of the Jordan was the limit beyond which he would not go. Besides, the chances of such a dirty river curing a disease which was untouched by the purest of spring waters, were remote.

In outrage and disappointment he turned to go home, for it was clear that the prophet was nothing but a quack and his remedies were nothing but wishful thinking.

But Naaman was clearly a good man, for he was sufficiently liked and respected by his slaves for them to approach him with real concern for his welfare. And they dared to be honest with him by pointing out his character weakness, his desire to be highly regarded. Amazingly, Naaman listened to them and had enough humility to take on board what they were saying. Accordingly, he washed in the Jordan as instructed and his leprosy was healed.

It's clear from the story that the Jordan had no particular healing powers in itself, it was simply the instrument chosen by God to effect Naaman's healing. We're left realising that the healing was not just skin deep, but that a profound change took place within Naaman. From someone who drew the line at anything which might demean him, he became someone who was humble and accepting and who was healed deep within. God worked on Naaman's limits and pushed Naaman beyond his limits in order to enable him to become a whole human being.

We all have our limits, but do we recognise what those limits are? Do we have any tendency, like Naaman, to be conditional in our acceptance of God? Will we accept God's words from one person but refuse to accept them from another? Will we happily agree to do one job within the church or outside the church, but refuse to do another? Are we picky about our offers of help or our offers of time?

God knew Naaman's limits and worked on them. Dare we be open enough to allow God to work on our limits?