Naaman, commander of the army of the king of Aram, was a great man and in high favor with his master because by him the Lord had given victory to Aram. The man, though a mighty warrior, suffered from a skin disease. Now the Arameans on one of their raids had taken a young girl captive from the land of Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife. She said to her mistress, “If only my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his skin disease.” So Naaman[a] went in and told his lord just what the girl from the land of Israel had said. And the king of Aram said, “Go, then, and I will send along a letter to the king of Israel.”

He went, taking with him ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, and ten sets of garments. He brought the letter to the king of Israel, which read, “When this letter reaches you, know that I have sent to you my servant Naaman, that you may cure him of his skin disease.” When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes and said, “Am I God, to give death or life, that this man sends word to me to cure a man of his skin disease? Just look and see how he is trying to pick a quarrel with me.”

But when Elisha the man of God heard that the king of Israel had torn his clothes, he sent a message to the king, “Why have you torn your clothes? Let him come to me, that he may learn that there is a prophet in Israel.”  So Naaman came with his horses and chariots and halted at the entrance of Elisha’s house. Elisha sent a messenger to him, saying, “Go, wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.” But Naaman became angry and went away, saying, “I thought that for me he would surely come out and stand and call on the name of the Lord his God and would wave his hand over the spot and cure the skin disease! Are not Abana[b] and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Could I not wash in them and be clean?” He turned and went away in a rage. But his servants approached and said to him, “Father, 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 he went down and immersed himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God; his flesh was restored like the flesh of a young boy, and he was clean. Then he returned to the man of God, he and all his company; he came and stood before him and said, “Now I know that there is no God in all the earth except in Israel; please accept a present from your servant.” But he said, “As the Lord lives, whom I serve, I will accept nothing!” He urged him to accept, but he refused. Then Naaman said, “If not, please let two mule loads of earth be given to your servant, for your servant will no longer offer burnt offering or sacrifice to any god except the Lord. But may the Lord pardon your servant on one count: when my master goes into the house of Rimmon to worship there, leaning on my arm, and I bow down in the house of Rimmon, when I do bow down in the house of Rimmon, may the Lord pardon your servant on this one count.” He said to him, “Go in peace” (2 Kings 5:1-19).

Except for one thing, the mighty Aramean warrior, Naaman, was in his prime. And he knew it. He just presented his wife with the gift of an Israelite slave girl from the spoils of resounding victory in battle over the girl’s people. For his services, he could hand his Aramean king and neighbors a long ledger of debts. By his keen eye for the enemy’s vulnerability, killer instinct, and skill with sword and spear, he kept them secure and rolling in booty. Freshly bathed from the blood and grime of battle, he paused to admire his cut physique and towering stature in the mirror when he noticed….a rash.

As soon as he saw it, the itching started. He could almost watch it spreading. White flakes flecked inflamed skin. This could not be! Had his armor not protected him from poison ivy and other elements? Surely his obsessive-compulsive armor-bearer thoroughly cleaned his uniform and armor after the previous battle. Surely, Rimmon, the god of Aram, would not allow some evil demon to render the handsome and mighty Naaman, pride of the nation, to remain like this! This rash spoiled his party as worry and embarrassment mentally muffled applause in the king’s court and the god’s temple. They could dismiss him as too unclean to come to his own party! 

Naaman’s case stumped the king’s personal dermatologist. Meanwhile, the king himself desperately needed to save face. In his speeches, he claimed limitless knowledge. “Nobody knows more than me about” – fill in the blank: messages in the stars, maneuvers of foreign adversaries, controlling pandemics, infrastructure development, conspiracies against him, how to make millions, golf – you name it! He could imagine all eyes turning to him in hopeful anticipation that he knew all there was to know about diagnosing and curing a nasty rash and that he would fix it! But he could never confess to another living soul the unbearable truth: He did not know everything about anything, not even how to diagnose and treat a rash.

Neither military commander, royal dermatologist, nor con man king knew what to do. Until now, carefully crafted and presented media campaigns managed the people’s sense of security in the political, military, religious, and healthcare leadership. Now public opinion teetered on the brink. The deity, Rimmon, just sat in the temple, a dumb, cold slab of gold with power only to glitter.

Then Naaman heard murmuring from his wife’s quarters. She told him that the Israelite slave girl proposed that Naaman need only meet with a particular prophet in her home country who would heal him. Willing to try anything, eager to admire himself in the mirror again, Naaman listened and informed the king. 

Upon hearing of this option, the king’s Macchiavellian wheels started turning. How could he lose? If the prophet in Israel heals Naaman, he’s got his military commander back full strength. If the prophet turns out to be a quack from that inferior race, he further damages the king of Israel by exposing him as the one who does not know everything after all. Keep repeating that humiliating news, and nobody will notice that he, the Aramean king, does not know either. When all else fails, distract the people by humiliating someone else!

Upon receiving the formal request from the king of Aram that he was sending Naaman to him for healing, the Israelite king smelled a rat. Worse yet, he knew the king of Aram cornered him again. In the privacy of his quarters, he admitted aloud that he did not have the power to heal a skin disease. Anticipating his humiliating exposure for not knowing everything as he too had claimed in his speeches – after all, that is what kings do – he tore his clothes in lament. He deemed himself finished, did not even try to hide his shame.

So the prophet, Elisha, offered to heal Naaman as the slave girl suggested in the first place. Now for the king to accept such an offer from a prophet required either desperation or humble acknowledgement to the limits of his power, a virtue rare among kings. For while kings manage images to keep the people dumb and happy, prophets – at least those not on the king’s payroll – tell the truth based on the fundamental reality that the one, true God is sovereign and the king, God’s servant. God’s power unleashed through prophets served as the only check and balance to the king’s power because God knows there is no way to restrain a king’s self-serving ego without the truth, healing, and judgment God issues through prophets and, for that matter, lowly ones like slave girls.

So the king of Israel detoured Naaman and his glorious military entourage from the royal mansion to Elisha’s modest two bedroom house in a run-down neighborhood. Crickets chirped: No symphony played Mars: The Bringer of War by Holst. Instead of flattering Naaman by personally appearing in purple robes with a wizard’s hat and magic wand, Elisha sent his snuff-dipping servant limping out to meet Naaman by the curb. “Boss says go bathe seven times yonder in the Jordan River, and your skin will be soft as a baby’s behind!”

Naaman’s ego roared its protest like the devil in a theatre watching the life story of Mother Teresa. Unable to face his vulnerability, he verbally lashed out, calling the prophet cheap and pathetic and deriding the River Jordan as a polluted creek compared to the beautiful waters of home. “What am I doing in this toilet?” he railed, “when my mission is to help the king make Aram great again!”

But God took pity on this violent, raging narcissist. Lowly servants spoon fed him some common sense: “If the prophet told you to compete in a decathlon to get your skin back, you would do it. So why not take seven easy baths instead?” Miraculously, he did.

And he emerged after dip seven clean as a young boy, this warrior guided by a young slave girl into the country he just defeated. Greater than the wonder of his dermatological clean bill of health was the cleansing of his ego. Thus cleansed, he forgot that shiny slab, Rimmon, and knew as clearly as his own name that the God of the nation he just beat up in battle was the one, true God. He marched to the front door where Elisha now stood grinning and offered more expensive gifts than Elisha could fit in his garage. To make clear that the God of Israel, not the prophet, healed Naaman, Elisha refused the gift. To Naaman’s worry that he could lose his job if he does not go through the motions with his king at Rimmon’s temple, Elisha passed on a wink and nod from God.

Centuries later after Jesus’s seventy-two disciples returned from their mission amazed at the healing power that accompanied them as they visited abroad, he prayed ecstatically, “I thank  you, Father, Lord of heaven and earth, because you have hidden these things from the wise and the intelligent and have revealed them to infants; yes, Father, for such was your gracious will” (Luke 10:21). And after his death and resurrection, he visited the least of the apostles who was complaining about a thorn in his flesh and said, “My grace is sufficient for you, for power is made perfect in weakness” (2 Cor 12:9). As kings and their minions put on shows, the power of God works quietly, virtually unseen, among the lowly slaves and servants and the poor in spirit, healing souls, making peace.

Whether you support him or not, stop obsessing about Trump. Turn off the TV. Put down your smartphone. Walk to the sink, grab a cup, draw some water. Look around. Someone is thirsty. Give them water. This is where the action is. This is how the power moves. The only king in sight is the suffering Christ, the one you love and serve, the one whose face you long to see.