“Then Elisha sent him a messenger, who said, ‘Go wash seven times in the Jordan and your skin will be restored and you will be clean.’ But Naaman got angry and left, saying, ‘I was telling myself: He will surely come out, stand and call on the name of the LORD his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the skin disease. Aren’t Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be clean?’ So he turned and left in a rage.” (2 Kings‬ ‭5‬:‭10‬-‭12‬ ‭CSB – Read the chapter) ‬‬

I’ve been thinking a lot lately about good advice. When we set out accomplish we haven’t done before and aren’t totally sure how to do it, it’s always a good idea to seek out good and wise counsel from someone who has been there before. The trouble with good advice, though, is that just because a particular bit of advice is good, doesn’t mean we necessarily like it or want to hear it. Let’s reflect for a little while today about a story when someone got good advice they didn’t like, and what wisdom that might have to offer us.

The prophets Elijah and Elisha are an interesting pair. The latter was the student of the former. Some context clues suggest that he was perhaps an especially bright or gifted member of the school of prophets Elijah ran, but we really don’t know how they met each other. Elisha came along by God’s grace at a point when Elijah was tired and ready to call it quits. He gave his master a reason to keep going a little longer.

Of the two prophets, Elijah is the more famous by far. He was definitely the one who got all the attention in the Jewish extra-biblical literature. And yet, in terms of what is actually reported in the Scriptures, Elisha did most of the miracles the pair were respectively responsible for. You would think he would have been the more famous on those grounds, but calling down fire from heaven proved to be sufficiently dramatic manifestation of God’s power. Most of Elijah’s miracles were dramatic signs from God to get the attention of nations. Most of Elisha’s miracles were practical, every day signs of His love and compassion. They represented the two sides of the miracle coin that Jesus carried all by Himself.

In any event, one of Elisha’s more interesting miracles was done for the commander of a foreign army who regularly bullied Israel. The officer’s name was Naaman. He was a fierce and formidable strategist. Everywhere he went, he won battles and dominated his enemies. Next to the king of Syria, his lord, he was the most powerful man in the nation. And, given that he was the one credited with winning all the nation’s battles, in some ways his power even exceeded that of his king. At the absolute height of his power and prestige, though, he developed leprosy.

He thought that his life was over. He knew this was a cultural and reputational death sentence in addition to all the physical suffering that was coming his way. Everything he had worked to build for himself and his nation was taken away in a moment. But then a young Israelite slave – one he would have taken in a battle against the smaller, weaker nation to their south – mentioned that there was a prophet in Israel who could heal him.

Naaman’s desperation drove him to swallow his pride and go find this prophet of the enemy to beg for healing. Except he didn’t swallow much pride. He went as a full and glorious emissary of the king of Syria to the king of Israel demanding to be healed of his disease. The king went into panic mode because he knew he had no power to do this, but to anger his much larger and more powerful neighbor to the north could be national suicide. Thankfully, Elisha had agents in place to keep him informed about the goings on of the palace, heard about the request, and sent word for the king to send Naaman his way.

Naaman went as directed, fully expecting to get the royal treatment from Elisha. He expected some kind of a show with lots of drama and pomp and circumstance. “He will surely come out, stand and call on the name of the Lord his God, and wave his hand over the place and cure the skin disease.” Instead, when he got to Elisha’s door, the prophet didn’t even come out to see him. He sent a messenger to the door with some instructions for taking a bath in a local river, and that was that. “Then Elisha sent him a messenger, who said, ‘Go wash seven times in the Jordan and your skin will be restored and you will be clean.'”

Naaman was furious. He assumed he would be received in a manner fitting his station, and instead got this almost dismissive response. This was not the advice he expected. It was not the advice that he wanted. And in his wounded pride, he was not going to take it. He was going to load up all his entourage and huff off back to Syria. He was probably going to get back there and start planning a military campaign to punish the whole of Israel for Elisha’s insolence – one that was designed to kill the prophet in retribution for his refusal to do what he wanted. At the very least the prophet could have sent him to wash in one of Syria’s beautiful rivers rather than the muddy old Jordan. “Aren’t Abana and Pharpar, the rivers of Damascus, better than all the waters of Israel? Couldn’t I wash in them and be clean?”

And he would have done all of this but for the courageous and compassionate words of his servants. “My father, if the prophet had told you to do some great things, would you not have done it? How much more should you do it when he only tells you, ‘Wash and be clean’?”

Sometimes the advice we get is not the advice we want. We go seeking advice, but in our mind and heart we have already decided what we want to do. What we are seeking in those moments is not really advice but permission. We are seeking agreement. We are looking for someone to tell us we are right so we can do what we want in good conscience. Here’s the thing, though, if we were so confident in what we had decided to do, would we even seek advice for it? Sure, we may have decided what we wanted, but the fact that we are seeking counsel suggests there’s some doubt in our thinking.

If the advice we get isn’t the advice we seek in those moments, the negative reaction we have isn’t really about the alternative advice. It is more about our wounded pride. We wanted to be right in our thinking, but weren’t totally sure of that. Now, this other person has agreed with that little voice of doubt, confirming that our thinking wasn’t right in the first place. We were wrong. We weren’t smart enough to come up with the best solution on our own. We’re not very good at this whole life thing after all. This contrary advice makes us start to spiral, and in our internal woundedness we react externally with anger and offense.

But if the advice we get is good advice, wouldn’t it be better to take it? Why do something that is going to cause ourselves harm out of spite for the person who told us to do something different and ultimately better? As the saying goes, there’s no reason to cut off your nose to spite your face. And yet it takes so much humility to admit we were wrong and listen to the wise voice of a trusted counselor or friend.

I know of someone who recently got some advice that didn’t sit well at first. And the reaction to this unwelcome counsel was almost volcanic. Yet rather than reacting as Naaman almost did by doing something ultimately less wise and potentially harmful in the long run, he gave the situation more thought and prayer and took the advice he received. The results of this humility have so far been pretty powerfully positive. His is an example worth following.

If you have received good and godly advice that didn’t line up with what you had already decided in your head and heart that you wanted to do, rather than pridefully rejecting it out of hand, take a minute and do some honest evaluation. Did this advice come from someone you trust? Did it come from someone you otherwise know to be wise and godly? Did they have your best interests at heart, or were they trying to steer you in a wrong direction? Are you thinking to reject their advice simply because it would mean not getting what you want? What would you lose by taking this other advice? Does this advice contradict anything in Scripture or otherwise point away from the path of honoring Christ first? Are you just being arrogant, or do you know something this other person doesn’t that gives you insight they don’t have?

If after asking and honestly answering all of these questions – perhaps with another counselor who is neutral to the whole situation – you can still say with humble, Jesus-committed confidence that your initial plan is best, take it. But if you can’t, maybe it’s time to get over yourself and change directions. I suspect that if this other person really was a godly counselor, you’ll be glad you did. God puts people like this in our life for a reason. Let’s not miss it.