Don't Let Go

“I am watching to see that my word is fulfilled” (Jeremiah 1:12).

God spoke these words to Jeremiah when he commissioned him as a prophet.  In the context of Jeremiah's call, these words carry a deep sense of foreboding.  God had declared that judgment would come to Israel in the form of destruction, exile, and captivity.  Armies would come and invade the rebellious nation and carry the Israelites away from their homes.

The scene is tragic, heartbreaking, and final: “Therefore the earth will mourn and the heavens above grow dark, because I have spoken and will not relent, I have decided and will not turn back” (4:28). 

Judgment is coming.  Period.

“I am watching to see that my word is fulfilled.”

At the same time that those words carry devastating finality, they also offer a great sense of hope.  They offer a second chance.  Although the whole countryside will be torn apart, God will not allow the Israelites to be destroyed completely (4:28).  After years of exile, God will bring restoration (29:10).  He will bring freedom from captivity.

With the promise of judgment comes the promise of rescue.  With the promise of pain comes the promise of protection.  “He who scattered Israel will gather them and will watch over his flock like a shepherd” (31:10).  And he is watching to see that his word is fulfilled.

Some of God’s promises are tough to swallow.  Some are scary to consider.  For example, “If we deliberately keep on sinning after we have received the knowledge of the truth, no sacrifice for sins is left, but only a fearful expectation of judgment and of raging fire that will consume the enemies of God” (Hebrews 10:26-27).

Others promises fill us with great anticipation.  They offer hope in the midst of turmoil.  For example: “Blessed is the man who perseveres under trial, because when he has stood the test, he will receive the crown of life that God has promised to those who love him” (James 1:12).  Or the familiar: “We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love him, who have been called according to his purpose” (Romans 8:28).

Are you running from a promise of God?  A promise that terrifies you and chills your bones?  You’ll need to run much faster, much farther.  Picture a rocket, a bullet, Usain Bolt, a thought, a cheetah, a light—then think faster.  God is watching to see that his word will be fulfilled, and you can’t outrun his gaze.

Are you holding on to a promise of God?  A promise that powers your pulse and centers your sights?  Keep holding tight, with white knuckles and gritted teeth.  Don’t.  Let.  Go.

He is watching to see that his word will be fulfilled.

His word will be fulfilled.

In Debt

I hate debt.

It makes me sick to my stomach.  In 2008, when my wife Mandy and I were planning to buy a home, the thought of being strapped to a monthly mortgage payment for the next thirty years nearly paralyzed me.  By the grace of God, I’d avoided car loans and school loans to that point, but there I was, planning to dive into six-figure debt for the sake of a home.

Even though I believe that we made the right choice in buying the house we did when we did, the debt was and is painful to carry.  Each month, a large portion of our paycheck goes straight into the home, through mortgage, taxes, insurance, utilities, repairs, and upgrades.

Because I hate debt, I made a commitment to get out as quickly as I could.  So we dumped money in to the mortgage by the hundreds and thousands.  If we earned extra cash, if we got a tax rebate, if we received financial gifts, the money went to the mortgage.  The goal was to get out of debt.  Fast.

In fact, I confess that I’ve prayed many times for God to help us pay off our debt within ten years.  I’m not sure if he will help us accomplish that goal, but I’m not shy about telling him that we’d love to live without a mortgage.  I can hardly imagine living mortgage-free, since all I’ve ever known of housing is either paying rent or paying mortgage.  I don’t know many stories of people living without mortgages or rent, but I’d love to be one of those people who are truly free of debt.

But isn’t it ironic how stressed out I get about financial debt, when I’ve created a debt far more significant?  With my mortgage, I owe a bank a few years’ worth of my salary.  And knowing that aggravates me to no end.

But I have a debt far greater than a few years’ salary.  I have a debt against my life.  Instead of borrowing from a bank, I borrowed from God when I sinned against him.  In his perfect righteousness, he demands perfect obedience.  And I failed, and have fallen into debt.

The problem with this spiritual debt is that I can never pay it back.  Even if I were to live the rest of my life performing good deeds—giving all I have to the poor, sharing the gospel with everyone I know, and adopting hundreds of orphaned children—I would still fall short.

The truth is that “the wages of sin is death” (Romans 6:23).  Period.  This debt will not help you start a small business, or get an education, or buy a place to live—it only brings death.  It is serious.  Yet we’ve all sinned (Romans 3:23; 1 John 1:8).  We all carry this debt.  Your neighbor, your mother, your friend, your pastor—all are in debt.

When viewed in this light, the situation is bleak.  The financial crisis that has swept across our country and world over the last few years almost looks bright and cheery compared to the grim picture of our spiritual debt.

This would be a time to despair, except for one thing: there is a way out.

There is one way to be free of this debt.  Not two ways.  Not three.  One.  It is not a payment plan or government buyout.  It does not have any fine print.  It does not require a lawyer or even a pastor to understand.

In fact, for such a serious debt, this one way out is surprisingly simple.  It is a type of debt forgiveness plan.  And rather than pages of legalese, it can really be summed up in just two words: Jesus Christ.

In the same breath that we say “the wages of sin is death,” we can add, “but the gift of God is eternal life in Christ Jesus our Lord” (Romans 6:23).

Debt forgiveness.  It’s a free gift.  You just have to know the Way (John 14:6).

If we claim to be without sin, we deceive ourselves and the truth is not in us.  If we confess our sins, he is faithful and just and will forgive us our sins and purify us from all unrighteousness.  1 John 1:8-9

Why Six Days?

He could have done it in a day.  In a moment.  He could have snapped his fingers (or even skipped that) and poof the world and all that is in it would have been created.  In one moment, there would be nothing, an open chilling black void, and in the next moment, there would be birds and worms and lava and mushrooms and hot springs and sunshine and . . . .

He could have done it in a moment.  But he didn’t.  According to Genesis 1, on the first day he separated light from dark.  The second, he separated water from sky, and the third, he worked on the land.  He didn’t even create anything living until the fourth day.

Regardless of where one stands in the evolution versus creationism versus intelligent design debate (it doesn’t matter to me whether you believe in six literal days or a figurative timeline), the reality is that God did not whip through his creation in just a moment.  He took his time.

Why?

One reason that I’ve heard suggested is that God took six days to create the world so that it could be an example to us as humans about work and rest.  We work six days, and rest on the seventh (or at least that was the plan).  This example-theory seems reasonable, but I wonder if there is a deeper, more foundational reason why creation took so long: our God is a creative God.

He could have made the world in a moment, but he enjoyed the creative process enough to spend some time working on it.

And thankfully, that creativity is one thing he has passed on to humans, made in his image.

For example, I wanted to have a cool mobile hanging over my son’s crib.  I wanted something other than the fuzzy elephants or bears, swaying in circles above his head.  Besides, why would I want to teach my child that bears and elephants fly?

Of course, I could buy a nice mobile.  It would be the equivalent of me snapping my fingers and poof having a cool mobile.  But enjoying the creative process, I decided to make a mobile on my own. In the end, I decided on something that I thought would be cool and that would have a legitimate reason to be flying through the air.  I decided to make a mobile with World War II fighter airplanes.

So I scoured the Internet to decide which planes to create, day one.  Day two consisted of bending wire hangers into the shape of my chosen planes.  Day three: more wire-bending.  It’s now a couple of months later, and the project is progressing nicely for the limited amount of time I have to work on it.

And best of all, it allows me to express my creativity.  Had I just snapped my fingers and produced a store-bought clone of hundreds of other mobiles, I would not have been as satisfied with the mobile in the same way that I’m already feeling satisfied with my homemade one.

Of course the analogy breaks down when God is the primary creator.  He could have snapped his fingers and still created exactly the same world he created now, whereas my finger-snap method would have only produced a store-bought alternative.

Still, I think the fact that God chose to work through his creation, day by day, word by word, shows his enjoyment in being a part of this world he has created.  He is not just rushing through the process to get it done, but he is taking time in the creative process to work through each stage of the process one at a time.

Rather than needing to take six days to create the world, God wanted to.  God wanted to spend time in creation.  This realization has profound implications for us as we live our lives.

God could treat the world like an assignment, something to work through as quickly as possible.  But instead, God treats the world as his creation, something to work with day-by-day, something to enjoy, something to invest himself in.

And in the end, a creation is much more enjoyable than an assignment.  A process brings more joy than a snap of the fingers.

Spending time with God is inviting him to enjoy his investment into creation.  And it allows you the unique opportunity to enjoy your creator.

Don’t rush through it.

To Run or to QWOP?

Okay, I must admit that while I should have been doing other much more responsible things, like washing the dishes, mowing the lawn, doing the laundry, or even writing, I have been struggling through a couple of simple yet ridiculously-challenging games: QWOP and GIRP.

Both games are surprisingly simple in concept. For example, in GIRP, the goal is to climb a wall.  To climb, the player simply needs to press the letter that shows up on the screen near the climber’s hand, and press another button to flex the climber’s arms.  Yet, as I was playing, my hands would become more and more twisted on the keyboard, until I would accidently let go of the wrong one, and my climber would once again fall into the water.

In QWOP, the letters Q-W-O and P control a runner’s thighs and calf muscles.  Your task?  Just move the legs in the right order to get the running to move forward.  Sounds simple enough, right?  Well, after my first few tries, I had managed to move 1.3 meters forward.  And one time I managed to stumble backwards for 6 meters.  Hardly a success.  Even my best attempt could hardly be called “running”; I extended the right leg out front and kept it there, and then I inched forward with the left knee dragging on the ground behind me for meter after meter.  And I still fell over eventually.

If I compare real-life running to the way I limped forward on QWOP, there’s hardly any comparison.  In real life, running has rhythm, power, movement, and even finesse.  In my QWOP running, there’s some movement, but little else.  

Of course, it is possible to run in a semi-normal rhythm in QWOP, adding rhythm, power, and even finesse back into the motion, but to accomplish this requires careful practice, with a commitment to learning the basics. 

But in my first attempt at playing, I had clearly demonstrated that I’d rather just move forward than learn the basics.  So rather than run, I limped, crawled, and slid.

It seems that I often try to live my life in the same way that I try to play QWOP.  QWOP could be done with finesse, but I’ve skipped finesse because I’ve skipped the basics.  Similarly, in my life there are many ways that I could move forward with grace and confidence, through the power of the Holy Spirit, but instead, I slither and stumble along, having never taken the time to put the correct foot forward.  I work hard, but I don’t get very far.

I’ve allowed myself to become content with moving rather than running.

As with QWOP, in my life, I need to go back to the basics.  But what does that even mean for a Christ-follower?

One way to go back to the basics as a Christ-follower is to learn about God, the creator of the universe, his Son, and learn from the lives of his followers.  Hebrews 11 offers a great summary of faithful, God-honoring men who learned the basics through living with God.  In the process, many struggled with sin, many attempted to just move rather than run, but they also had great successes.  In learning about God’s followers, we can learn more about God.  We can learn the basics.

The author of Hebrews writes:

Therefore, since we are surrounded by such a great cloud of witnesses, let us throw off everything that hinders and the sin that so easily entangles, and let us run with perseverance the race marked out for us. Let us fix our eyes on Jesus, the author and perfecter of our faith, who for the joy set before him endured the cross, scorning its shame, and sat down at the right hand of the throne of God.  Consider him who endured such opposition from sinful men, so that you will not grow weary and lose heart. (Hebrews 12:1-3)

As we focus on Christ, as we learn the character of God, as we are filled with his presence, we stop struggling and squirming to move, and we start actually running.  And suddenly, the movement we’ve been working so hard to generate starts to come naturally.  We begin to learn to work with God’s power, rather than our own.  We begin to run.

Let’s get back to the basics.  Let’s learn to run, not QWOP.

Becoming New

My wife and I live in a house that is over sixty years old.  It’s a good house, but with the numerous owners that have moved through it over the years, it definitely has taken on a character beyond what the original builders would ever have imagined.  Over the years, new rooms were added, electricity was rerouted, and new cupboards were professionally installed, among other changes.  Some of the changes have been really positive (we love the cupboards), but many lack the professionalism to be really enjoyable (why do we have two separate phone lines running to the back of our house?).

One of the most fun and most annoying parts of our house is the texture of the walls.  They are made of a type of plaster I suppose (I’ve never seen anything quite like them), and rather than being smooth, they are textured in a unique, eye-catching randomness.  I must admit, that I love the look.  Except I have no idea how to duplicate it.  I’ve repaired drywall before, and it was pretty straightforward: slop some gunk in the holes, smear it smooth, sand it flat, and you’d never know where that broomstick had accidently poked through to the living room.

However, repairing textured walls is not so easy.  Smaller holes blend in to the texture pretty well, but larger areas are hard to hide.  For example, in the 70’s the current owner built an addition on the back of the house.  Suddenly the doublewide patio door was now a single entry door into another part of the house.  The attempted repair of the area was (I’m sure) attempted with great care and frustration, but to no avail.  Forty years later, I still see clearly where a door opening was clearly patched up.  The texture just doesn’t match.

In the three years that we’ve lived here, my wife and I have taken a simple mantra to heart: It’s better than it was before.  We may not be able to match the texture in the corner of that wall, but at least the wall is no longer crumbling to dust.  We may not be able to hide all of the spills and messes from the previous painters, but at least we’ve been able to make it all one color.  We may not have a weed-free yard, but at least there is now more grass than weeds.  It’s better than it was.

It’s a great motto for us.  It keeps us from being extremely frustrated as weekend projects turn into month-long endeavors, as a simple change of an outlet requires hours of reading about how to rewire electricity, as one trip to Menards turns into eleven.  When one of us allows our perfectionist tendencies to sneak in, causing frustration with the lack of perfection in our house, the other just says, “At least it’s better than it was before.”  And then we both smile contentedly.  It is much better than it was.

However, as I think about my walk with Christ, I think I tend to let this motto slip into my thinking far too often.  Did I sin before the Almighty God in the same way for the one hundredth time?  Oh well, at least I’m better than I was.  Did I fail to pray to the Lord of my life about how I should spend my paycheck?  Oh well, at least I pray to him sometimes.  Did I allow myself to be ashamed of the gospel that I have devoted my life to rather than share it with someone who was ready to hear?  Oh well, at least I myself have accepted the gospel message.

My Christian walk has become like an old house being made to be a little better than it was before.  But the Apostle Paul declares that “if anyone is in Christ, he or she is a new creation.  The old has gone, the new has come!” (1 Cor. 5:17).

So far, I’ve been striving to be a better old creation.  I’ve been striving to maintain my same ways of living, and add my faith onto the back, like the addition on the back of my house.  But in my life, like in my house, the patch job stands out, messy and rough.

It’s time to allow Christ to make me new.

A New Old Song: Holy Holy Holy

I love music.  New music.  Different music.  Music that I didn’t listen to yesterday.  Yesterday it was Andrew Bird.  Today Zero 7.  Last week it was Credence Clearwater Revival; this week it is Apocolyptica.  While, like anyone, I tend to gravitate towards particular genres, I also like to expand my musical horizon, being open to new sounds and rhythms that have previously been foreign to me.

In the Psalms, we are repeatedly instructed to sing a new song to the Lord.  What a valuable command!  I can hardly imagine how boring church would be if we were still singing the same “contemporary” songs I sang in my church in the 90’s.

It is exciting to know that as we pass into new life, we will have new songs also.  The book of Revelation mentions new songs multiple times (Rev. 5:9, 14:3).

But I often wonder if I have a fair picture of heaven in my head.  Does heaven captivate me as it should?  Does it motivate me to persevere, to invite others to join me, to love?

Sometimes in my limited view of heaven, it doesn’t seem very interesting.  Why would I want to go to heaven, and give up my Daft Punk or Sonata Arctica?  As we look ahead to the future presented in the Bible, it may sometimes seem like the musical variety of this world seems to fade.  Those in God’s presence seem to only be able to sing one thing: holy holy holy . . . holy . . . holy.

Won’t it get old?

We’ve recently been singing the Revelation Song in the Sunday morning worship services at my church.  The lyrics are not new at all.  In fact, they are as old as the Bible itself, taken from the Book of Revelation.  But as I sing these familiar words crafted in a fresh melody, the presence of God moves through me in a fresh way as well.  The old, the familiar, the worn, has been made new and exciting.

Worthy is the Lamb who was slain

Holy, holy is He

Sing a new song to Him who sits on

Heaven’s mercy seat

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty

Who was and is and is to come

With all creation I sing praise to the King of kings

You are my everything and I will adore You

Confronted with God’s presence, all creation in Revelation is aware of God’s immense apartness.  He is holy, holy, holy.  And everyone in his presence is so captivated by his holiness that singing about anything else seems trivial.  Imagine how trivial it would feel to sing about failed love, frustrated relationships, unexpected hardships, when confronted with the holy holy God Almighty.  He makes love perfect.  He restores relationships.  He wipes away the tears of our hardships.  Why sing about anyone or anything else?

Now imagine having that future vision of God today.  Jesus repeatedly proclaimed that the kingdom of heaven is near.  In one sense, it is already here now.  Why wait until all the future pieces are put together before starting to celebrate the holiness of our creator in a new and powerful way?  Through prayer and the presence of the Holy Spirit, we can experience God’s humbling holiness right now.  So sing a new song.

Sing a new old song:

Holy, holy, holy is the Lord God Almighty

Who was and is and is to come.

Out of Death and Back to Life

     “Everyone will come; everyone will come to my funeral to make sure that I stay dead.”  I recently heard this song lyric rumbling through a TV commercial for a video game.  Hearing it, I absently filtered out the video game and focused on the song.  In just 30 seconds, it drew me in, an intriguing image, compelling me to Google the commercial to find out what the song was.  The song was “Four Rusted Horses,” by the ever-controversial Marilyn Manson. 

I could picture the funeral mentioned in the song: The grass, mowed short and straight by a meticulous groundskeeper, would look bright green beneath the dark, crisp black suits and dresses of the men and women standing around the coffin.  The coffin, shimmering, glinting in the sunshine, would be at the center of the gathering.  To a casual observer, the funeral would look like any other.  A crowd of people, dressed formally, would be standing around, watching the pallbearers step in slow, precise steps towards the rectangular hole in the ground.  But a closer look would reveal something quite different.  There would be a crowd of people standing at a distance, casting anxious glances in the direction of the casket.  They would be fidgety with faces full of nervous tension.  Even those in the funeral procession, those closest to the coffin, closest to the dead man inside, would not be able to mask their unease, sweat dripping down their foreheads.

Instead of tears and mourning, there would be a mixture of wide-eyed confusion, jaw-clenching anxiety, and looks of stoic determination.  As the casket would be lowered into the ground, a few of those watching would breathe a sigh of relief, and hurry away as quickly as they had come.  Others, refusing to leave their vigil, would continue to stand by, watching, while their feet would gradually make imprints in the soft ground.  They would not leave their watch until the last scoop of dirt was in its place six feet above the coffin.  Even then, they would leave with caution, silently stepping away, trying not to look back at the grave as they left.

“Everyone will come; everyone will come to my funeral to make sure that I stay dead.”

In much the same way, I can imagine Satan looking on at Jesus’ death with the same sense of cautious unease.  When Jesus was on the cross, Satan had stood by, anxiously watching the outcome, until finally Jesus’ side was pierced and he was entombed behind a giant stone.  Satan could hardly believe it.  He had actually done it.  He had killed the Son of God.  And the Son of God had stayed dead.

For three days.

But on the third day, long after Satan had left his vigil to go throw his celebration party, Jesus Christ arose.  And walked.  Out of the tomb.  Alive.

Out of death, and back to life.

He is the resurrection.  He is life.  Those who believe in him will live, even though they die.

“Everyone will come; everyone will come to my funeral to make sure that I stay dead.”  But I will not stay dead.  Will you?

(John 11:25)

Wash and Be Healed

     He was known throughout the region as the commander of the Aram army.  But he was not just any commander.  As a soldier, he had fought valiantly, risking his life over and over for the sake of his men.  As a leader, he was just as valiant but showed wisdom also: he would lead the army towards some battles and away from others; he would protect his men as much with his decision-making as with his sword.  No clear-thinking leader would stand in the way of his army—if an army tried to come up against the army of Naaman of Aram, they would suffer for it.  He was the commander who had brought victory after victory to the nation.  Aram owed its wealth and even its survival to his skill in battle. 

     Naaman had the full respect and trust of the king, who knew that with this man leading his army, the country of Aram would prosper.  Ranked second only to the king, Naaman had wealth and prestige like no other.  His house was lavish, with gold trim on the doorposts and plundered treasure hanging on the wall.  His robes were fine silk, each worth more than the entire farms of his neighbors.  When he walked down the dusty streets, as he often did in the evenings, people would murmur his praises: “That’s Naaman, the one who defeated those rebels to the east,” or, “He’s the one who saved my brother when he was struck in battle,” or “He’s the one that the stories are about.  Remember when he defeated four men with just a broken spear shaft?”  Everyone knew of his great achievements.
     But they always followed their comments with other whispered gossip: “It’s too bad about his skin,” or, “Don’t get too close—it might be contagious,” or, “You’d think with all his money, he’d be able to find a doctor to help him.”
     Naaman had more wealth than anyone he knew and more friends than even the king, but he was miserable.  He would throw a party with the best musicians in town and the most expensive wine.  Everyone he knew would be invited, and even more would show up.  But when he would notice someone staring awkwardly at his diseased skin, the party would be over, music halting mid-note, and everyone would be sent home.
     He would spend the remainder of those evenings rubbing oils into the painful sores on his skin, wishing he hadn’t ended the party, which he was only using to distract him from thoughts of his own frailty.  When he was in one of these sour moods, his wife would keep her distance, preferring the conversation of her servant girls to the grumbling complaints of her husband.
     One of these servant girls was a captive from Israel, captured in one of Aram’s many triumphal battles in the nearby areas.  This Israelite was surprised that a skin disease could cause so much frustration.  “Why doesn’t he just go to a doctor?” she once asked.
     “Oh, he has seen many doctors, every doctor from here to the Mediterranean, and each one tries a different cream or oil or herb. . . . But none of them work,” said Naaman’s wife.
     “He should go to Israel, to Samaria!  There is a man there.  A prophet!”  Her eyes gleamed.  “He would cure him.”
     When word reached Naaman that there was a prophet in Israel who could heal his skin, he hurried towards the king’s palace to beg the king to let him go to Israel.  He didn’t have to beg. “Of course you can go,” said the king, knowing that to keep Naaman happy was to keep the whole army of Aram happy.  “I’ll even write a letter to the king of Israel for you to bring with you.”

     Within hours, Naaman began his journey, along with horses, chariots, his most impressive-looking servants, and as much gold, silver, and fine clothing as he could pack.  Traveling with purpose, he soon arrived at the gates of the palace in Israel, stopping only to wipe the dust off his clothing before entering.  The king, always ready to accept a visitor carrying so much gold, invited Naaman in, and readily accepted the letter from the king of Aram.  But his pleasantness faded as the letter was read in his presence:
          Dear King of Israel,
          With this letter I am sending my servant Naaman to you so that you may cure him of his leprosy.
          Sincerely,
          The King of Aram
     The king’s stunned silence was finally broken when he asked himself, “Is this some sort of joke?”  Still processing the possibilities, he wondered, “Who does he think I am, sending me someone for me to cure of leprosy?  Am I God?”  His face reddening with the thought, he shouted, “This is some sort of trick.  He’s trying to pick a fight with me!”  And he tore his robes in frustration, sending Naaman away until he could figure out what to do with him.
     Naaman’s entrance into the city had not gone unnoticed—he had made such an entrance with the chariots and wealth that the whole area was attentive to his consult with their king.  However, just as quickly as they had seen Naaman enter the palace, they now saw him impatiently standing outside, and heard rumors of the king tearing his robes.  What was going on?
     When the rumors of the meeting reached Elisha, he sent word to the king, “Send him to me, and he will know that there is a prophet in Israel.”  The king was more than happy to comply.
     Naaman, climbing into a chariot, directed the whole caravan to the house of Elisha.  This would be the day that he would be healed.  This was his chance.  He assembled his men, his horses, and chariots.  He changed into a shimmering clean robe.  He unpacked as much of the gold and silver as he could to make his arrival to Elisha’s house one that would not be ignored.  All the time Naaman had spent building up his wealth and stature would finally be worth it, as he would use it to gain the attention of the prophet, and be healed.
     But when he arrived at the Elisha’s door, a messenger greeted him.  Naaman was ready to impress Elisha with the company and wealth he brought with, but Elisha wouldn’t even come to the door.  The messenger passed along instructions to Naaman: “Go, wash seven times in the Jordan, and your skin will be healed.”
     Walking away without having even met Elisha, Naaman was furious.  He kicked at the gravel and at his men, and directed them to load the horses to go back home.  This had been a big waste of his time.  “I expected him to at least come out and meet me,” he growled.  “I thought he would come outside, and wave his hand over my skin here and here.  He would call out to his God, say a prayer or incantation, and then cure me.  Instead, some stranger tells me to go wash in the Jordan.  The Jordan!  The gross, muddy waters of the Jordan River are going to heal me?  Those waters are so dirty, I’ll probably get more diseased by dipping one toe in that river.  Why not the Abana River, or any other river in Damascus?  They’re at least clean.  That Elisha is no prophet.  Let’s go home.”
     But just as Naaman was about to mount his horse, one of his servants questioned him.  “Master,” he said, “If Elisha had asked you to go climb a mountain and come back with the oils of a rare plant, weren’t you prepared to devote your life to finding that plant?  If he had asked you to give up food for weeks, wouldn’t you have done it?  If he had suggested that you must find a lion in the wilderness, and defeat it without your sword, would you not have tried?  If he had asked for all your gold, you surely would have given it.  And now, all he has asked you to do is ‘wash.’  Why not try it?  What is there to lose?”
     So they trekked to the Jordan, and Naaman washed.
     And he was healed.  No grand sacrifice required.  No lightning bolts.  No ultimatums.  Just simple, small obedience.
     (2 Kings 5:1-14)