A girl is innocence playing in the mud, beauty standing on its head, and motherhood dragging a doll by the foot. (Allan Beck in Heaven Sent: The Wonder and Blessing of Every Child)

    One young girl in the Bible comes to mind as a wonderful example. She was an Israelite — the Bible doesn’t tell us her name — who was stolen from her home and forced into slavery. I cannot imagine the terror this little girl must have felt as she was snatched by a band of raiders, torn from her family, and taken away to a foreign land. We don’t know if the rest of her family were taken into slavery or if they were killed by the kidnappers. Either way, life for this little girl was not a pleasant affair.

    She was required to serve the wife of a military man named Naaman, the commander of the army of Aram. Naaman was a man of great power and authority; in fact, the raid that ripped the girl from her home might have taken place at his command. But he was sick. He had leprosy, a disease so dreaded and feared that he would soon be forced to leave his home, his position, and his wealth to live out his days as an outcast and die alone.

    You would think the young girl would have been happy to hear that her master was dying. How could she have borne any affection for him — the man who so cruelly tore her from her family? Yet the Bible doesn’t say that she cursed Naaman or responded to the news with morbid glee.

    Instead, she offered a touch of hope. She approached her mistress and said, “If only my master would see the prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.” (2 Kings 5:3) Naaman and his wife could have scoffed at getting advice from a child, but they didn’t. Perhaps they were too desperate. The proposal seemed like a long shot — but what else were they going to do? So Naaman traveled to Samaria, found the prophet Elisha, and — to make a long story short — was healed of his leprosy. And in the process, he became a believer in God. (2 Kings 5:1-15)

    I remember one year in college when I began to suffer from severe back pain. My doctor doped me up on muscle relaxants and pain relievers, and I could do little but sleep for days. Some college students might consider having a good excuse to sleep all day a blessing, but I had recently accepted a summer job as a camp counselor, and I certainly needed to be awake for that! I also needed to be pain-free if I was going to row boats, hike mountain paths, play vigorous games, and otherwise do my job at camp. What a choice: I could either slump around the campground half-comatose, or I could stay permanently grimaced in pain. Which would be worse for a college student placed in charge of an active group of energy-filled, elementary-age kids?

...she offered a touch of hope.

    As the time to leave for camp drew nearer, a group of people from my church offered to pray for me to be healed. I figured prayer wouldn’t hurt, so I agreed. An announcement was made in church that evening that anyone who wanted to join in prayer for me should meet in a certain room after the service. When I arrived at the room, I found a handful of adults — and Sylvia. Sylvia was about seven years old, and — I hate to admit it now — I thought she was a bit of a brat. But who was I to kick someone out of a prayer meeting? Obviously she thought she should be there. I sat down, and the others in the room circled around me and put their hands on my shoulder and back. The adults began to pray. To this day I have no idea what they said. But I clearly remember Sylvia’s voice piping up to talk to her friend, the Lord: “God, as we lay our hands on Amy, I pray that you will lay your hands on her too.” That was it, short and sweet.

    The pain remained the next day and the next. I packed my bags and left for camp anyway. But by the time I arrived at the campground — I doubt you’ll be surprised — my back felt fine. The pain was gone! That summer I was able to chase after kids, dodge water balloons, survive on bad food and little sleep, and lead children — just the age of Sylvia — to Jesus. My back pain returned years later, but for those three months I was free of any discomfort.

    I don’t think for a minute that it was Sylvia who healed me, just as I don’t think it was the little Israelite girl who healed Naaman. Only the touch of God can heal us. Yet God obviously used these little girls as instruments in his plan.

    We could learn much from them both. They loved God. They were willing to serve. They didn’t hesitate, even though others might have considered their advice or presence unwanted. They didn’t withhold their touch. God put these young girls in a certain place at a certain time for a purpose, and they were determined to obey, no matter what.

    Could the same be said for us grown women?

    The slave girl had every reason to withhold help, yet she was eager for another person to know God and his healing power. Sylvia must have had some idea that I didn’t find her to be the sweetest child in our church, yet she wanted to pray for me to be well.

    Are you holding any grudges that keep you from touching others? Are you too proud to reach out? Are you blocking the healing hand of God with an attitude that says, “I won’t help that person because of how she looks ... how she acts ... how she treats me”?

    There’s no further mention of the Israelite girl in the Bible. We don’t know if she was rewarded for helping Naaman; we don’t know if she was ever allowed to return home. We only know that she was an instrument of God who didn’t hold a grudge — and healing was the result.

    As for Sylvia, she certainly caused me to look again at my attitude toward kids! While she was still a little girl, she caught the bouquet at my wedding; and as the years have passed, she has grown into a beautiful and intelligent woman. It brings me great joy to know that she now touches the lives of children at her church, leading them in songs, games, crafts — and, best of all, to Christ.

Powerful God, heal me of those hurts that keep me from serving you with a willing and open heart. Help me to be an instrument of your healing touch.o

And whoever welcomes a little child like this in my name welcomes me. (Matthew 18:5)