THERE was once a little girl, a long time ago, in a far away land. She lived in a large, splendid house, in a very old city. Don’t imagine that she felt very happy in that beautiful dwelling, for it was not her father’s house. Ah, no, the poor child was very far from her parents’ home, and there was not much chance of her ever seeing it again. When she was still at home with her parents, she had certainly never dreamed that she should ever come to Damascus. But on a certain day, rough soldiers came and brought terror and dismay into the little village where she lived. They forced their way into the houses, and took everything they could lay hands on. They took also men, women and even children, to sell as slaves. And so our little Jewess came to Damascus to the home of Naaman. She knew not what had become of her father, mother, brothers and sisters. Ah, what a sad fate was hers! Many and bitter were the tears that she shed. When she thought of her home, and of her former merry life without care, then her heart would become heavy. She was indeed to be pitied!
One thing was fortunate. She feared the Lord, and loved Him with her whole heart, and therefore in spite of her sorrow she was not unhappy. Although she often felt lonely, yet she was not forsaken. For God never forsakes His own. And this poor little slave was one of His own. Her knowledge was certainly very limited. She knew little of God, much less than we do. But she loved Him truly, and put all her trust in Him.
Her master, Naaman, was a man of great importance, a mighty warrior. If he lived in our day he would very likely be field-marshal. The king thought a great deal of him, because by his means God had given freedom to the Syrians.
But this rich, great, powerful Naaman was a leper. He was sick, very sick of a terrible disease. We know nothing of leprosy here, and do not know how dreadful it is, to be a leper. But there in the East they know all about it. A leper is dead while he is alive. He must leave his home and family, and wander about alone, or in the company of other lepers. If he meets other people, he must cry out: “Unclean, unclean.” At least, so it was in Israel. In Syria where Naaman lived, they seem not to have had such severe laves.
I think that he sought the advice of many physicians, and tried many enemies. But it always ended in disappointment. And now he had given up all hope. Nothing could be done for him. Ah, what a sad contrast! So rich, so mighty, so honored, and yet so miserable!
People who did not know that he was a leper, may have envied him. When they saw him enter his splendid home, or driving by in his richly ornamented chariot, they may have thought, “What a happy man Naaman must be!” Not knowing that, under that princely raiment, a very diseased form was hidden. No; this rich man was not happy. Neither did Naaman’s wife know what happiness was. Surrounded by luxury. Everything that money could buy was to be found there. Sumptuous furniture and precious ornaments. But the possessor of it all was deeply to be pitied. In bitter grief she sat there. Of what use is all that luxury to her! What good does all this wealth do her! She would gladly give it all, if she could buy health for Naaman with it. But she can do nothing for her husband, she can only weep and complain.
What do you think? Who was the best off, of these three? Naaman, his wife, or the little girl-slave? Surely, the latter! She knew, at least, where to go with her sorrow. She had help in time of need. Her cross was not the heaviest. She could even pity her master.
One would scarcely wonder to hear that the poor child hated Naaman. Many in her place would have thought: “It is just right that Naaman is a leper! To him I owe all my misfortunes. He is the cause of my misery.” But such was not her thought. Instead of being glad at the sad condition of her master, she pitied him even more than herself. She did not know the words of the Lord Jesus; “Love your enemies," but she acted according to them. See, there she stands before her mistress. Her heart is full of pity, and there is nothing she would like better than to help them. But what can she do? She, a poor despised slave!
Yes, there is something she can do! There is something that she has often thought about. And now she will say it. “Would God my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria! For he would cleanse him of his leprosy!” The prophet was Elisha, of whom we read so many wonders in the Bible. The girl had often heard of him, while still in her own land. She had never heard that Elisha had healed a leper, but she did not doubt that God who had performed so many wonders through his servant, would also heal a leper.
How beautiful this was in that girl! How strong her faith was in the power of God! And how dear it was of her to wish to send Naaman to Elisha! How simply, too, she tells it! And still so decided! As if she would say, “What a pity that Damascus is so far from Saria; if my lord was only there, then he need not remain a leper one day longer.”
Is that not beautiful in this girl? To forget her own grievances, and think only of her suffering master and sorrowing mistress? And that she was able to do, because she loved God with all her heart, and received so much from Him.’ And now she longed that Naaman, also, should learn to know this God. For Naaman was a heathen. He was in the habit of bowing down before Rimmon. But Rimmon could not help him, and all his prayers and all his offerings availed him nothing. No; he must go to Saria; there was the prophet of the Lord; there he would learn to know the power and goodness of the God of Israel! How strange it seemed to Naaman, when his wife repeated to him what the little maid had said. Did he believe it? Well, it would be too much to say that he did. But a little hope arose in his heart. The nations round about Israel knew a little of the God of Israel. They had heard much of His power, and of the wonders that He had performed for His people. So we can very well understand that Naaman began to hope again. He went to the king to tell him what he had heard, who directly made preparations to send him to Samaria; he wrote a letter to the king of Samaria, and soon Naaman was on the way took with him a great amount of gold and silver and rich garments, thinking that it must cost a great deal to be healed of such a deadly disease.
He did not know that God does not sell His favors, but gives them freely in grace to whoever comes to Him. It was a long journey, and Naaman had plenty of time for meditation. He had been so often disappointed. No wonder that the thought would arise, that perhaps this journey would.be in vain.
At last, he reaches Samaria; in front of King Joram’s palace the procession stands still. The letter from the Syrian king is sent in. Because there they think they will find the worker of miracles. Such a man must be treated with extraordinary honor. And where could he be treated with more honor than in the king’s palace? But Joram was quite distracted. What can he do with the leper? He cannot cure him, and he does not dase to send him back. Benhadad will be so angry, and perhaps will declare war against him. Yes, that is just what he wants to do. And in despair he rends his garments, and cries out: “Am I God, to kill and to make alive?” Does Benhadad think that I can cure a leper?
No, Joram! You are not God, you are only a man, although you sit on a throne. But that you do not know God, the God of Israel, is your own fault. The poper little maid dressed as a slave yonder in Damascus, shames you, King Joram! You in Samaria, do you not know, that there is a prophet of the Lord in Samaria? She in Damascus knows it very well!
(To be continued.)
ML-01/04/1920