The Magic Wand

But Naaman was angry and went away, saying, “Behold, I thought that he would surely come out to me and stand and call upon the name of the LORD his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the leper.” 2 Kings 5:11

Yesterday, I mentioned the magic wand that I think some patients believe that I keep in my addiction medicine office. Desperate for transformation, some of those who’re addicted come to me, expecting that I have some secret plan, pill, or formula that will make them stay sober. They’ve been to treatment and they’ve gone to a few recovery meetings. That’s a lot of work though. If only I had a pill that could make them get clean, that would be so much easier. Give me the pill doc. So, I often find myself reminding my patients that there is no pill that can make a patient become sober. There certainly are medications that can help withdrawal and decrease cravings, but ultimately, the patient must put in the work, making the radical life changes necessary for recovery.

I get it though. I’m guilty of the same wishful thinking. When I wanted to get sober, I prayed to God for the instant miracle. When I’ve found myself overweight and my old pants haven’t fit, I wanted a diet plan that would make me skinny in a day. When I’ve hurt my marriage with my selfish behavior, I wanted it fixed right now. Desperate for change, I pray, hoping that God will wave his magic wand, instantly setting all things right.

This is the same sentiment expressed by Naaman in today’s passage. In the story, Naaman, commander of the Syrian army, sought the prophet Elisha, hoping to be healed from his leprosy. In a grand procession, Naaman approached Elisha’s home and stood at the door. Elisha didn’t even come out. Instead, he sent a messenger telling Naaman to go jump in the Jordan river seven times. Naaman was irritated. He expected Elisha to greet him, wave his magic wand, and miraculously heal him. Indignant, Naaman refused to comply with Elisha’s instructions. That’s stupid. I’m not doing that. Not only did Naaman want the miracle, but he also wanted to define what it looked like.

Miracles, by definition, are rare events and so, while I can pray for one, God often expects me to do my part to participate in the long, hard process of transformation. Addicted, I must radically change everything about my life. Overweight, I must do whatever it takes to change my diet – for the rest of my life. Struggling in marriage, I must daily work at permanently being less selfish. I don’t have to change everything insantaneously, but I do need to understand that if I want my life to change, I must do whatever it takes to obey God, not just once, but every day.