Faith Behind Enemy Lines Series

(The Little Girl Who Changed a General)

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I. Captivity and Compassion

The Syrian army had been raiding Israel again. They rode in with torches and iron, leaving behind smoke and silence. One of those raids carried off a little girl. Scripture doesn’t tell us her name—only that she was very young and that she was placed in the household of Naaman, commander of the army of Syria.

She had no say in where she slept or what she ate. She had no freedom to go home. But though she lost her land, she never lost her Lord. Though she was taken from her people, she was not taken from her purpose.

And there, in the house of her captor, she saw something no one else seemed to see. Her master, Naaman—the man whose word sent armies marching—was hiding a secret. He was brave, powerful, respected, and admired…but beneath the armor was a disease that was eating him alive.

Leprosy. In that world it meant judgment. Isolation. Shame. The mighty man of valor had become the man of sorrow.

And here’s the moment heaven leaned close to watch. The child could have said, “Serves him right. That’s God’s payback for what he did to my people.” But she didn’t. She looked past the uniform, past the cruelty, and saw a man who needed mercy.

> “Would that my lord were with the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” (2 Kings 5:3, ESV)

That’s all she said. Just a sentence, whispered with compassion. But God can turn a whisper into a worldwide witness.

She didn’t stand before Naaman. She didn’t have a hearing. The message simply traveled—

from a servant to her mistress,

from the mistress to Naaman,

from Naaman to the king of Syria,

from the king of Syria to the king of Israel,

and finally to the prophet of God.

Grace has a way of finding its audience.

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II. Naaman’s Secret and His Pride

Naaman is a fascinating man. He’s everything society respects—disciplined, decorated, decisive. The Scripture even says,

> “By him the Lord had given victory to Syria.” (v. 1)

But success can’t heal the soul. You can win every battle outside and still lose the war within.

Naaman’s skin was a visible reminder that there are things we cannot command. He could order men to fight, but he couldn’t order health to return. He could conquer kingdoms, but he couldn’t conquer corruption in his own flesh.

So when he hears that a prophet in Israel might heal him, hope stirs—but pride tags along. He gathers what pride always gathers: wealth, position, credentials. The Bible says he loaded ten talents of silver, six thousand shekels of gold, ten changes of clothing. He brought a caravan that looked like a royal parade—because pride always wants to pay for what grace gives freely.

He even carried a letter from his king. He was still trying to get a healing through political channels. But God doesn’t heal through bureaucracy; He heals through belief.

When the king of Israel read the letter, he tore his clothes. “Am I God, to kill and make alive?” Even kings have limits, but prophets know a limitless God.

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III. The Journey to the Prophet

Elisha hears about the panic and sends a message:

> “Let him come to me, that he may know that there is a prophet in Israel.” (v. 8)

Naaman arrives with all his horses and chariots—dust rising, banners waving, guards standing at attention. It’s a procession of prestige.

And Elisha doesn’t even come out.

He sends a messenger. A servant to a general. The message is simple, almost insulting:

> “Go and wash in the Jordan seven times, and your flesh shall be restored, and you shall be clean.” (v. 10)

No ceremony. No music. No prophet waving his hand. Just a command to dip in a muddy river.

Naaman is furious. “Are not Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel?” (v. 12)

He wanted something grand, something dramatic—something worthy of a general. But God wanted something humble, something obedient, something that would peel off his pride.

We don’t like cures that make us look small. We want miracles that let us keep our dignity. But there’s no dignity at the door of grace—only surrender.

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IV. Five Dips Wouldn’t Work

Naaman storms off in a rage. But God has surrounded him with servants again. Isn’t it interesting? It was a servant girl who sent him here, and now it’s servants again who keep him from walking away.

> “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great thing, would you not have done it? How much rather, then, when he says to you, ‘Wash and be clean’?” (v. 13)