What if the answer we’re waiting for comes from someone we wouldn’t normally listen to?
What if a situation we would barely notice is the very place where God chooses to move?

Today I was reading through 2 Kings and came to the account of Naaman, a general serving under the king of Aram. He is described as a great man in Aram, but we are also told that he had contracted leprosy—a horribly contagious skin condition. In verse 2 we are introduced to an interesting moment in the story:

It so happened that Aram, on one of its raiding expeditions against Israel, captured a young girl who became a maid to Naaman’s wife. 2 Kings 5:2 (MSG)

This might seem like a strange detail to include, but this servant girl plays a big role in Naaman’s life. Upon seeing his condition, she suggests that he should go and see the prophet who lives in Samaria—better known as Elisha. I’m unsure whether Naaman had any awareness of God, but this servant girl had faith that he would be healed. Naaman takes the advice seriously and goes to his master, the king of Aram, to report what the girl had said. His master sends him off to Elisha with gifts.

Let’s pause here for a minute.

The theme that emerges in this passage—and in another we’ll examine—is the idea of the unexpected. It stood out to me that a successful man like Naaman would even listen to the words of a slave. I would have imagined he had access to the best doctors and healers Aram had to offer. He was clearly a valuable asset. Perhaps they had all tried and failed, and he was desperate. But that advice for healing would come from an Israelite servant girl would have been unexpected, to say the least. What is even more unexpected is that Naaman chose to take her advice so seriously that he would go to his king and then travel to see Elisha.

And the unexpected theme doesn’t stop there.

After a tense and somewhat humorous encounter with the king of Israel, Naaman finally goes to see Elisha, arriving with all his pomp and importance on display. I imagine that somewhere in the Aramean mindset was the idea that the more you brought to a healer, the better your chances of healing. Yet Elisha, for some reason, doesn’t even come out to see Naaman. Instead, he sends his own servant. Elisha seems thoroughly unimpressed with the gifts. His servant informs Naaman that if he wants to be healed, he simply needs to immerse himself in the Jordan River seven times.

Keeping on theme, this is an unexpected solution. Reading it through modern Western eyes, it seems like a win-win situation. He gets healed—that’s his goal—and it doesn’t require much effort. It won’t cost him money or even much time.

However, Naaman is furious.

He is angry that Elisha didn’t come out to meet him. Angry that there was no dramatic gesture or impressive spiritual ritual. Angry that he would have to bathe in the Jordan when there were cleaner rivers back home. In fact, he storms off in a rage, apparently refusing to do what he has been told.

Then one of his own servants approaches him. Another intervention from an unexpected source. They reason with him: if he had been asked to do something great, wouldn’t he have done it? Why not do this simple thing? This convinces Naaman. He bathes in the river, and when he comes up the seventh time, his skin is restored—like that of a young boy.

Boom.

From that day on, Naaman declares that he will worship the God of Israel and no other.

Let’s park that story there.

Later in my reading, 2 Kings 7 continues this theme of the unexpected. There has been a severe famine in Samaria, the capital of the northern kingdom of Israel. We’re not told exactly how long it had lasted, but it had exhausted the food supplies. People were desperate. In the middle of that despair, Elisha declares that within 24 hours the famine will be over and food will be plentiful. Naturally, the leaders are sceptical. There is no logical way this could happen so quickly.

Yet once again, deliverance comes through unexpected means.

We are introduced to four lepers stationed outside the city so they cannot infect others. They are starving, just like those inside. In desperation, they decide to go to the Aramean camp—the very army responsible for the famine. Their logic is simple: “We’re going to die here anyway. What have we got to lose?” When they arrive, the camp is deserted. The Lord had caused the Arameans to panic and flee, believing they were under attack. The camp is full of food, supplies, animals—everything.

The lepers begin eating and drinking. But after a while, they realise that while they are feasting, their city is starving. So they return to the gatekeepers (they still cannot enter because of their condition) and report what they’ve found. The message reaches the king. Scouts are sent. The news is confirmed. The people rush out and plunder the camp.

The people then looted the camp of Aram. Food prices dropped overnight—a handful of meal for a shekel; two handfuls of grain for a shekel—GOD’s word to the letter! 2 Kings 7:16

Amazing.

But who did the deliverance come through?

Another unexpected source. Through unexpected means.

There is much to learn here about our expectations. So often we assume that God’s answers will come through the people we expect and by the methods we understand. Our minds struggle to comprehend how God can act when there is no logical solution or no well-respected figure in sight. These passages remind us that neither of those things are required for God to move. In fact, He often uses unexpected people and unexpected means to meet our needs.

The bigger question is whether we are prepared to receive those means when they come from surprising places. Is there a danger, like Naaman, that we might walk away in frustration because the solution doesn’t look the way we imagined?

I don’t know what you are asking for today. I don’t know what promise you are holding onto while waiting for God to act.

But I do know that somewhere in the back of our minds we have imagined how it might happen.

What if our fixation on that method causes us to miss the intervention God has planned?

Let’s keep our eyes and ears open. Let’s not filter or dismiss what God may be doing. He is God, and we are not. The deliverance is His.