In order to profit by the history of Naaman, we must bring it under the light of the New Testament, and interpret it thereby. In this way, we shall find every stage and every point of the narrative fraught with rich and weighty principles of evangelical truth. “All scripture is given by inspiration of God, and is profitable.” This statement applies to the fifth chapter of 2 Kings. The record of Naaman’s condition, of his course to and from Jordan, of his cleansing and its results, is full of most precious teaching, when viewed in the light which the New Testament pours upon it. Let us, then, in humble dependence upon the Spirit’s teaching, proceed to the consideration of this singularly interesting passage of holy scripture.
“Now Naaman, captain of the host of the king of Syria, was a great man with his master, and honorable, because by him the Lord had given deliverance unto Syria: he was also a mighty man in valor; but he was a leper.” Here, then, we have the two sides of Naaman’s condition. As to his circumstances, he was all that heart could desire. “Great”—“honorable”—“mighty”—“valiant;” what more could he be? He was, as men would say, one of fortune’s most highly favored sons. He was commander-in-chief of the forces of Syria; he possessed the confidence and esteem of the king; and he wore upon his brow the laurel of victory.
“But he was a leper.” Alas! this was a sad drawback—a grievous blight upon all his dignities—a heavy cloud upon all his glory. The foul disease which covered his person not only prevented his enjoyment of the honors which fortune had heaped upon him, but actually changed them into so many sources of humiliation and chagrin. His very elevation made his malady conspicuous, and the sunshine of prosperity made his personal vileness apparent. His military costume enwrapped the person of a leper, and his laurel of victory crowned a lepers brow. In short, the lowest menial in Naaman’s establishment would not have felt the humiliation of leprosy so keenly as the noble captain himself. The higher he was in position, the more intensely he must have felt the degradation and depression of his loathsome disease. What would he not have given to anyone who would but take his leprosy? And yet, he was soon to have it taken away for nothing!
Now, when we look at all this from an evangelical point of view, we discern, in the person of Naaman, the case of a sinner in his natural state. He is covered with the disease of sin Yes; outwardly he is covered, and inwardly pervaded with the incurable malady of sin. He may, like Naaman, be surrounded by wealth and splendor, pillowed on the bosom of fortune, nursed in the very lap of luxury, but he is a sinner—he is lost—he is undone; and when once he is brought to see this, his very honors and dignities only serve to make his inward wretchedness all the more intense. He is lost, and he wants salvation. He wants to have his malady removed, his guilt canceled, his conscience cleansed. This is what he wants, and this is what God has provided for him. As in Naaman’s case, God had the water of Jordan to cleanse him from every trace of his disease, so in the case of the convicted sinner, He has provided “the precious blood of Christ” to cleanse him from every stain of guilt, and free him from every breath of condemnation.
But let us see how strikingly all this comes out in our narrative. “And the Syrians had gone out by companies, and had brought away captive out of the land of Israel a little maid; and she waited on Naaman’s wife. And she said unto her mistress, Would God my lord were with the prophet that is in Samaria! for he would recover him of his leprosy.” What a difference between this little captive maid and her noble lord! And yet she was in possession of a grand secret of which he was wholly ignorant. She knew that in the land of Israel her master could find what he wanted. She understood where grace was to be found, and the knowledge of that grace filled her heart with the desire that her lord should partake thereof. “Would God,” said she, “he were there.” It is ever thus. Grace fills the heart with earnest desire for the good of others. It mattered not to the little maid that she was an exile from the land of her fathers, and a captive in the house of a Syrian. She saw that her master was a leper, and she longed to put him in the way of being healed. The God of Israel was the only One who could perfectly meet a leper’s need.
“And one went in, and told his lord, saying, thus and thus saith the maid that is of the land of Israel. And the king of Syria said, Go to, go, and I will send a letter unto the king of Israel. And he departed, and took with him ten talents of silver, and six thousand pieces of gold, and ten changes of raiment.” How hard is it for the human heart to rise to the measure of the thoughts of God! The idea of being cleansed for nothing never entered Naaman’s mind. He was, we may safely say, quite ready to give largely, if by that means his leprosy could be cleansed; but the idea of getting all he wanted “without money and without price” was entirely beyond him, and hence his cumbrous preparations. He knew not, as yet, the grace of the God of Israel. He thought that the gift of God was to be purchased with money. Here was his mistake—the mistake of millions—the mistake of the human heart, in every age and in every clime.
And yet, when one looks at it closely, what an absurdity to suppose that a little gold and silver could get aught from “the Most High God, Possessor of heaven and earth!” Yes, this is easily seen to be absurd; but it is not just as easily seen to be absurd to come before God trusting in our own works, in our morality, in our religiousness, in our amended life, our altered conduct, our changed habits, our pious performances, our tears, prayers, sighs, vows, resolutions, alms-deeds, our feelings, frames and experiences, or in anything, in short, which we could produce of thought, word, or deed. People do not so readily grasp the fact that they might just as well present a piece of silver or gold as the ground of their confidence, as all those things which have been named, and ten thousand times as much besides. If I had all the good works that were ever performed; all the tears that were ever shed; all the sighs that were ever heaved; in one word, if I had all that was ever produced in this world, in the shape of human righteousness, and that multiplied by ten thousand times ten thousand, it would not blot out so much as a single stain from my conscience, or give me solid peace in the presence of a holy God. These things are valuable in their right place; but as a foundation for our souls’ peace, we must have naught but Christ. He must take the place of everything in which our hearts would place confidence. We have all in Him, and having Him we want no more.
But it takes a long time to convince us of the worthlessness of all our own efforts. It seems passing strange to the human heart to be told that we need no other title to Christ but our utter ruin; that we need not wait to prepare ourselves; that every step in self-improvement is a step in the wrong direction, inasmuch as self can never be mended in such a way as to make it fit for God—fit for heaven. Religious flesh is as far from God, as far from righteousness, as far from heaven, as flesh in its very grossest forms. This is a hard saying, but it is true; and, moreover, it is well that its truth should be fully seen. It is of the very last importance that my reader should understand that what is needed is not self-reformation, but a new life altogether, and this life is Christ. This is the grand point. We must get rid of all hopes and expectations from our fallen and corrupt nature, and take Christ as our all and in all. Do what you frill with flesh and you can never make it fit for God—fit for heaven. Flesh could not live in heaven. It could not breathe the atmosphere of that hallowed region. The most fruitless task that ever was undertaken is to affect any improvement in that which God has condemned and set aside as incorrigible and incurable.
Now, it is interesting to see how our chapter opens this line of truth to our view, in its own peculiar style. When Naaman stood with his pompous retinue, and with all his gold and silver, at the door of Elisha, he appears before us as a marked illustration of a sinner building upon his own efforts after righteousness. He seemed furnished with all that heart could desire; but, in reality, all his preparations were but a useless encumbrance, and the prophet soon gave him to understand this. The brief, simple, pointed message, “Go wash,” swept away all confidence in gold, silver, raiment, retinue, the king’s letter, everything. It stripped Naaman of everything, and reduced him to his true condition as a poor defiled leper needing to be washed. It put no difference between the illustrious commander-in-chief of the hosts of Syria and the poorest and meanest leper in all the coasts of Israel. The former could do with nothing less; the latter needed nothing more. Wealth cannot remedy man’s ruin, and poverty cannot interfere with God’s remedy. Nothing that a man has done need keep him out of heaven; nothing that he can do will ever get him in. “Go wash” is the word, in every case.
Naaman evidently felt the prophet’s message to be deeply humbling. He was not prepared for such a total setting aside of all human pretension. He would have liked to be called upon to tell out his pieces of gold, his talents of silver, his changes of raiment; but to be told to “go wash,” without the slightest allusion to any of these things, was quite too humiliating. “But Naaman was wroth and went away, and said, 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. Are not Abana and Pharpar, rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? May I not wash in them and be clean? So he turned and went away in a rage.”
Thus it is ever. God’s simple plan of salvation is so thoroughly humbling to man’s pride that he cannot submit to it. “They being ignorant of God’s righteousness, and going about to establish their own righteousness, have not submitted themselves to the righteousness of God.” (Rom. 10) And yet, we may say, what right had a leper to reason, to argue, or to prescribe? Had he come to be cleansed or to dictate? Had he tried what “Abana and Pharpar” could do for him? The fact is that Elisha wanted to teach him that he needed to bring nothing to God but his leprosy. All beside was superfluous. This was a noble lesson. Naaman must bring back to Syria everything he had brought out of it, except his leprosy. Such was Elisha’s purpose, though that purpose was, in a measure, frustrated by the covetousness of Gehazi. The sinner would fain bring his good deeds to Christ. “I fast twice in the week and give tithes.” It is all useless; you must come to Christ bringing only your guilt. You must learn that you want cleansing, and that Christ has it for you. If you think you have a single atom of goodness in you, then you have not yet got to the very bottom of your condition. You may try the Abanas and Pharpars of the legal system; but you must, after all, “go wash in Jordan” ere you can know what it is to be divinely clean.
This is deeply humbling. It puts the legalist “in a rage.” All those who think themselves wiser than God, must learn their own folly sooner or later; but as for those who know and own themselves lost, they have but to put their trust in Jesus and be as clean as His precious blood can make them. This is God’s simple way of salvation. Jesus has done all. He died for our sins according to the scriptures, and He is now up in heaven as the pledge, proof, and measure of the believer’s acceptance before God. All who, by the grace of the Holy Spirit, and on the authority of the holy scriptures, put their trust in a dead and risen Christ, are as free from guilt and condemnation as He is. Glorious, emancipating, elevating, soul-satisfying fact! May my reader enter into its power! May he prove the deep blessedness of simply taking God at His word!
This was what Naaman, after a fierce struggle, learned to do. He learned, after all, to give up all confidence in “Abana and Pharpar,” and yield the simple “obedience of faith” to the testimony of God. “And his servants came near, and spake unto him, and said, 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? Then went he down and dipped himself seven times in Jordan, according to the saying of the man of God: and his flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.” This was just and simple reasoning. “If the prophet had bid thee do some great thing, wouldest thou not have done it?” No doubt; but then this word,, “go wash” was so humiliating, so self-emptying! It left flesh nothing to glory in. “To him that worketh not, but believeth.” “Not of works, lest any man should boast.”
Such is God’s principle, and to this principle Naaman had to submit. He went and washed in Jordan. He obeyed the word of the Lord. And what was the result? “His flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean.” The very moment a sinner submits to God’s righteousness, that righteousness becomes his. The very moment he casts himself on Christ he is as safe as Christ can make him. The glory of God is involved in the full and eternal salvation of all those who simply look to Christ. Naaman might have plunged himself, ten thousand times over, in the waters of “Abana and Pharpar,” and remained just as he was; but the moment be took God’s way, he became as clean as God could make him. Had a single spot of leprosy appeared on Naaman’s person, when he came up out of Jordan, it would have been a dishonor cast upon God’s remedy. For a sinner to trust God’s salvation and yet not be saved, would involve an eternal insult to the divine glory, and furnish an abiding ground of triumph to all the powers of darkness.
It is important to understand this. To know that the glory of God is involved in my full salvation must impart solid peace to the conscience, and complete emancipation to the heart. I greatly desire to press this upon the anxious reader. God has been glorified in the putting away of sin. What a truth for an exercised heart to get hold of! It is no longer a question of what I am to do with my sins; Christ answered that question over eighteen hundred years ago. This is enough. I rest here, in full assurance that all has been divinely and eternally settled. God is glorified—I am saved—the enemy is silenced—I have only to go on my way rejoicing.
And, now, one word as to the practical results of all this, as seen in Naaman’s course, after he came up out of Jordan. Nothing can be more interesting. “His flesh came again like unto the flesh of a little child, and he was clean. And he returned to the man of God, he and all his company, and came and stood before him: and he said, ‘Behold now I know that there is no God in all the earth, but in Israel: now therefore I pray thee take a blessing of thy servant. But he said, As the Lord liveth before whom I stand, I will receive none.’ And he urged him to take it; but he refused.”
What a marvelous change in Naaman, from the moment in which he turned and went away in a rage from the door of Elisha, until he found his way back to that door again, cleansed and like a little child! He was, in type, a new creature. He stood on new ground. He was in a new condition. He had submitted to God, and he felt and manifested the precious results of so doing. Thus, it is in every case. The proud, haughty, self-sufficient legalist may display all the bitter animosity of his heart against a scheme of redemption which places him on a level with the vilest of the sons of men. He may argue, reason, and rebel; but the very moment he bows his head and consents to be saved in God’s way, all is changed. The animosity and indignation of the legalist, together with the guilt and uncleanness of the sinner, are all left beneath Jordan’s flood, and he comes up cleansed and pardoned, calm and humble, to devote all he is, and all he has, to the service of the true God.
But why, let me ask, did Elisha refuse to take a blessing from Naaman’s hand? For a truly noble reason. He would have Naaman to return to Syria with this testimony that the God of Israel had taken nothing from him but his leprosy. He would have him to go back and declare that his gold and silver were useless in dealing with One who gave all for nothing. Elisha would not tarnish the luster of divine grace by accepting a shekel of the stranger’s money. Alas! that the covetous Gehazi should have thwarted his master’s noble intention. He fixed his lustful gaze upon the silver and gold. He was wholly incapable of rising to the height of his master’s thoughts. He understood not the sacred power of divine grace. He sighed for Naaman’s gold. “As the Lord liveth,” said he, “I will run after him and take somewhat of him.” He could not, like his master, say, “the Lord, before whom I stand.” Elisha was standing in the presence of God—breathing the very atmosphere of grace. Here lay the secret of his moral elevation and holy disinterestedness. But Gehazi loved money, and hence he cared not how he dimmed the luster of that grace which had shone upon the pathway of Naaman the Syrian. He would make him pay for his cleansing. He forgot that that was not the time “to receive money and garments.” Unhappy man! He gained his heart’s desire, but “went out from his master’s presence a leper as white as snow.” Terrible warning to all lovers of money! Those who will have this world’s gold must have this world’s leprosy also. A deeply solemn reflection!
How delightful to turn from the contemplation of Gehazi, with his heart full of covetousness, and look at Naaman, with his heart full of thankfulness and praise to the God of Israel! The contrast is as striking as it is pleasing. Naaman’s heart went out after the One who, without money and without price, had fully and perfectly met his need. “Shall there not then, I pray thee,” he says to Elisha, “ be given to thy servant two mules’ burden of earth? for thy servant will henceforth offer neither burnt offering nor sacrifice, unto other gods, but unto the Lord.” Thus, it was with Naaman. He had left home a defiled leper, he was returning thither a cleansed worshipper. What a change! And all done in a moment, when once he took God’s way. The work was of God; and, as for Naaman, he had but to bow his head and worship. Having left his leprosy behind him, he desired to bear away with him an altar on which he might offer sacrifices to the only true God.
Thus, much as to the practical result in the matter of worship. Let us, now, very briefly refer to the question of walk. It is obvious that Naaman was exercised as to this latter point. New springs of thought and feeling had been awakened in his soul. A sense of responsibility had been created, to which he had hitherto been a total stranger. Until the moment of his cleansing, all his efforts were directed to the one point of getting rid of his leprosy; now, on the other hand, the grand question was as to his walk before the One who had cleansed him. “In this thing the Lord pardon thy servant, that when my master goeth into the house of Rimmon to worship there, and he leaneth on my hand, and I bow myself in the house of Rimmon; when I bow myself in the house of Rimmon, the Lord pardon thy servant in this thing.”
This stipulating was very far below the proper mark. True devotedness never stipulates, never seeks a loophole, never desires to chalk out an easy path. Whenever a person says, “May I do this? Is it wrong to do that? What harm is there in the other thing?” you may be quite sure that Christ has not yet gotten His true place in the heart. If the whole compass of my soul is filled with Christ, I make Him my rule, my measure, my standard, my touchstone in all things. The question, then, is not “What is the harm?” but is it Christ? It is, my beloved reader, be assured of it, a poor, low thing to be questioning as to how far I may go in self-indulgence, without risking my eternal salvation. “To me to live is Christ.” This is Christianity. May we prove its power, and manifest its fruits!
There is a deep and valuable lesson to be learned from Elisha’s brief answer to Naaman. He does not place him under any rigid rules or legal regulations. To do so would be as foreign to the grace of God as to take money for his cleansing. All must be free. He would not put a yoke upon the neck of one who, hitherto, had been only a subject of grace. He could not say, “ go,” for that would be to sanction idolatry. He could not say, “don’t go,” for that would be to sanction legality. The former would be a denial of God’s being; the latter a denial of His nature. But mark what the prophet says. Mark his admirable reply. “Go in peace.” He casts Naaman back upon the grace which he had already experienced. He does not put him under any bondage. He leaves ample room for the lovely action of personal responsibility, which should never, in any case, be interfered with. The prophet’s reply was eminently calculated to produce in Naaman’s soul the most salutary exercise. It was calculated to raise in his mind the inquiry, “Can I go in peace” into the temple of Rimmon?” What a searching question! What a healthful exercise! Could he really “go in peace” from the altar of Jehovah to the temple of an idol? Could he combine the altar of earth with the house of Rimmon? The heart that knows aught of the preciousness of Christ, or “the vast constraining influence” of His love, will be at no loss for an answer to all such questions.
May the Holy Ghost unfold and apply this interesting narrative of Naaman the Syrian to the heart of the reader! It is indeed a most fruitful section of inspiration, setting forth the depth of man’s ruin—the worthlessness of all his legal struggles—the freeness of God’s grace—the efficacy of Christ’s work—the precious fruits of a known salvation, and the true principle of a disciple’s walk.
May the Lord bless His own word, and His name shall have all the praise!