The Miracle in the Message

I don't know about you, but I've always had a flair for the dramatic. When I imagine Bible stories, I picture grand moments with heavenly spotlights and perhaps some holy background music. So when I read about Naaman, the mighty Syrian commander with leprosy, I can't help but smile at his reaction to God's healing plan.

For those who may not be as familiar with the story, let me give you a brief overview. Naaman arrives at Elisha's house with horses, chariots, and likely an entourage befitting a military commander. He expects a spectacle, a dramatic ritual with the prophet waving his hands over his diseased skin while calling down fire from heaven.

Instead, Elisha doesn't even come to the door! He sends a messenger with simple instructions: "Go and wash in Jordan seven times, and thy flesh shall come again to thee, and thou shalt be clean" (2 Kings 5:10).

Naaman's response is priceless! "Behold, I thought, He will surely come out to me, and stand, and call on the name of the LORD his God, and strike his hand over the place, and recover the leper" (2 Kings 5:11).

I can almost see him stomping back to his chariot, muttering about the Jordan being a muddy ditch compared to the beautiful rivers back home. The Bible says, "he went away in a rage" (2 Kings 5:12).

In that moment, he nearly missed his miracle, all because the messenger wasn’t impressive enough and the method seemed too simple. He almost forfeited his healing because the means didn’t meet his expectations.

Isn’t this how many people respond to the gospel? They come expecting a grand spiritual experience, only to find ordinary people discussing simple faith. The message comes through imperfect vessels, and the method seems too straightforward: "Believe on the Lord Jesus Christ, and thou shalt be saved" (Acts 16:31).

I've seen visitors enter our little Welsh chapel, looking around with the same Naaman-like disappointment. Perhaps they expected stained glass splendor or a charismatic preacher who would dazzle them with eloquence. Instead, they find regular folks with Welsh accents singing hymns that are hundreds of years old.

"Surely salvation should be more complicated," they seem to think. "Surely God's house should be more impressive."

Thankfully, Naaman had servants brave enough to reason with him: "My father, if the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it? how much rather then, when he saith to thee, Wash, and be clean?" (2 Kings 5:13).

The beauty of God's ways is that He often works through the humble and the simple. Like Naaman, when we set aside our pride and expectations, we discover the miracle waiting in the message.

So, if you've hesitated to embrace salvation because the church people aren't perfect or the method seems too simple, take a lesson from Naaman. Don't miss your miracle because it didn't arrive in the package you expected. Sometimes, the greatest divine work happens in the most ordinary places, through the most ordinary people, using the most ordinary methods.

The question is, will you wash and be clean?