She has no name. That’s the first thing to sit with.
The Bible tells us she was young, that soldiers from Aram raided her country, and that she was carried off to serve in the household of the man who led them. Naaman. A general with a skin disease nobody could cure. She lost her family, her town, and her freedom - and then served the very man whose army took them.
If anyone had earned the right to silence, it was her.
What she says instead is this: “I wish my master would go to see the prophet in Samaria. He would heal him of his leprosy.” (2 Kings 5:3)
One sentence. No power behind it. No plan, no guarantee, no platform. She’s in a kitchen, not a court. And most of us, if we’re honest, never speak from a platform either. We speak in corridors and car parks and queues.
Notice what she still owns. Slavery took nearly everything, but it didn’t take her belief that God still heals. Sometimes the most generous thing you have is simply what you still believe.
And notice what she never got. Naaman went, washed in the Jordan seven times, and came out clean - but as far as we know, nobody walked back to the kitchen to tell her. She said her sentence and got on with her day.
There’s a habit in some cafés called paying it forward. You buy your coffee, then buy a second and leave it on the board for whoever comes in cold and can’t afford one. The person who paid is long gone. They’ll never see the face change.
You could be somebody’s coffee on the board this week.
Say the sentence. Don’t build a speech. You are not responsible for the outcome - only for the sentence.
Watch today’s five-minute devotional here: