(Here’s the video version of this post: The foolish cure)

Namaan was sick. He was a war hero, he was an army commander, he was the king’s confidant. And he was sick.

There was nothing he could do. There was no one that could help. Because of the contagion, he would be cut off from his work, his family, everyone.

One day, the maid that helped his wife said, “I know what would help. God would help.”

She actually said, “In my home country, there is a prophet. And he could make Namaan well.”

When Naaman got to her country, the prophet didn’t even come to see him. He sent a messenger to say, “Go wash in the Jordan 7 times and you will get well.”

Namaan was ticked. As well he should be. In his community, he deserved respect. He deserved honor. He deserved the presence of this noted healer.

And all he gets is an email with a stupid home remedy.

“There are clean rivers back home,” he said. “The doctors back home show up,” he said. “I want a magic wave and a cry out to God and an instant cure,” he said.

“I want God to work in a way that is in keeping with my status,” is what he meant.

His servants said, “You would have done a huge thing. You would have paid a large fee. You would have fought a big battle, gone on a long pilgrimage. You would have done anything to prove how strong you were.”

His servants said, “But how come you can’t do this simple act of obedience?”

He listened. He washed. He quit giving orders. He started by taking one order.

And his body was healed. Instantly. After the seventh bath that is.

But all other treatments were for symptoms. This one? This foolish one?

It was a cure.