Naaman and I

I listened to Adventures in Odyssey today - to the story of Elisha and his encounter with Naaman the leper. The story is found in 2 Kings 5. There we find Naaman and his servants riding up to Elisha’s home. As soon as he stopped at the Elisha’s door, he sent a messenger to say to him, "Go, wash yourself seven times in the Jordan, and your flesh will be restored and you will be cleansed."

At first Naaman was pretty ticked and nearly went home, but then one of his servants piped up to say, “Hey! If he had told you to do something great, wouldn’t you have done it? This is easy, why not give it a go?” Well, Naaman relented and washed in the Jordan seven times, just as the prophet told him to, and

15 Then Naaman and all his attendants went back to the man of God. He stood before him and said, "Now I know that there is no God in all the world except in Israel. Please accept now a gift from your servant."


As I listened to the story today, I was struck by the parallels in my own life. Here I am, missionary to the world, stranded in a tiny town six hours away from civilization - and instead of being elated at the prospect of affecting my own community, I’ve longed for the illusion of doing “bigger” things somewhere else in the world.

But God has not asked me to do some great thing - instead, He has asked me to be a faithful steward in this small corner of earth. He has asked me to be humble enough to be content with simplicity- to set aside my “big” dreams and ambitions long enough to do what He has directed.

He has asked for obedience, plain and simple.

And although this obedience seems to have led me into the desert for a season, I think I have finally come to an oasis- I think I’m beginning to learn the lesson God has prepared for this season of my life:

Godliness with contentment is great gain.Contentment is defined as satisfaction with a certain level of achievement, good fortune, etc., and not wishing for more.

Wow.

Not wishing for more seems like an impossible request, not only so far as the material world goes, but especially concerning my present relationship with God. Although I have had a hard time adjusting to our present status, I’ve had an even harder time spiritually. I am generally content in my relationship with God. After all, if I’m loving Him, seeking Him, and obeying Him regularly, what more can you do, right? However I have been quite disappointed with myself and all my shortcomings that seem to have surfaced in this last month. Like not reading the Bible everyday, feeling hemmed in because I haven’t had a chance to teach, frustrated because we are still living out of a suitcase, obsessive about looking for furniture on Craigslist because we have none and we are about to move into our first home...

I don’t want to be the kid God is always having to reprove- the hooligan, the undisciplined one, the “problem child.” I have seen myself from the inside out, and I have felt disappointed at my lack of maturity.

I have overlooked blessings in the face of frustrations.

I have set aside present joys to worry about the tomorrows that may never be.

I have seen that I am, in fact, still an immature child in the great house of God. I have not learned, as Paul did, how to be content yet. But that’s a revelation! He had to learn contentment, but maybe that was something that only came after being discontent with the things he had to endure. In Phillipians, He wrote:

I know what it is to be in need, and I know what it is to have plenty. I have learned the secret of being content in any and every situation, whether well fed or hungry, whether living in plenty or in want. I can do everything through him who gives me strength.

And this is spoken by a man who had strength not only to pioneer ministries in the Mediterranean, but also to endure the harsh realities of persecution. 2 Corinthians 11 chronicles a few of those situations for us:

I've worked much harder, been jailed more often, beaten up more times than I can count, and at death's door time after time. I've been flogged five times with the Jews' thirty-nine lashes, beaten by Roman rods three times, pummeled with rocks once. I've been shipwrecked three times, and immersed in the open sea for a night and a day. In hard traveling year in and year out, I've had to ford rivers, fend off robbers, struggle with friends, struggle with foes. I've been at risk in the city, at risk in the country, endangered by desert sun and sea storm, and betrayed by those I thought were my brothers. I've known drudgery and hard labor, many a long and lonely night without sleep, many a missed meal, blasted by the cold, naked to the weather.

And that's not the half of it, when you throw in the daily pressures and anxieties of all the churches. When someone gets to the end of his rope, I feel the desperation in my bones. When someone is duped into sin, an angry fire burns in my gut.

Remember the time I was in Damascus and the governor of King Aretas posted guards at the city gates to arrest me? I crawled through a window in the wall, was let down in a basket, and had to run for my life.

(Next chapter, skipped a few verses)

I was given the gift of a handicap to keep me in constant touch with my limitations. At first I didn't think of it as a gift, and begged God to remove it. Three times I did that, and then he told me,

My grace is enough; it's all you need.
My strength comes into its own in your weakness.
Once I heard that, I was glad to let it happen. I quit focusing on the handicap and began appreciating the gift. It was a case of Christ's strength moving in on my weakness. Now I take limitations in stride, and with good cheer, these limitations that cut me down to size—abuse, accidents, opposition, bad breaks. I just let Christ take over! And so the weaker I get, the stronger I become.

Maybe that is what I am learning- contentment, thankfulness . . . appreciation for a Father whose wisdom is limitless. I am learning to be okay with the process, even when it leaves me staring in the mirror, wondering, “How could you ever use someone like me?”

I am learning it’s okay to see my own faults, as long as I’m willing to deal with them through the remedy God prescribes. No shuffling feet, or hesitancy to reply when God calls out to me from the middle of the Garden. No more self-talks of frustration and annoyance as I mull over my latest insufficiency. No more, no more . . . only obedience to the directive at hand, and a contented satisfaction that this too, is part of God’s process in my life.

I am a child in the great house of God, and there is no greater joy in life.
not even in getting a new home
not even in teaching
not even in being a missionary
not even in being a mother
not even in being a wife
not even in mocha-almond-fudge-swirl ice cream
not even . . .

I'm asking God for one thing,
only one thing:
To live with him in his house
my whole life long.
I'll contemplate his beauty;
I'll study at his feet.
Psalm 27:4