Healing Through Scars

“.”… If only my master would see the Prophet who is in Samaria! He would cure him of his leprosy.”

2 Kings 5:3

The story found in 2 Kings, chapter 5, is a familiar tale of healing. It’s the story of how Naaman, a commander of the army of the King of Aram who was highly regarded, was miraculously healed of his leprosy through the Prophet Elisha. He went to visit Elisha in Israel and was given instructions to wash himself seven times in the Jordan. His flesh would be restored and cleansed (2 Kings 5:10). He reluctantly obeyed the Prophet in verse 14 and was healed. By verse 15, he was proclaiming that there was “no God in all the world except in Israel.” We then see how Elisha’s servant, Gehazi, was punished for his greed at the end of the chapter. In a chapter packed with numerous life lessons (I urge you to read the entire chapter for yourself), I wanted to focus this reflection on verse 3, the powerful declaration made by a lowly servant girl that triggered a chain of events leading to Naaman’s healing.

For context, we will start our reflection from verse 2, 

“Now bands of raiders from Aram had gone out and had taken captive a young girl from Israel, and she served Naaman’s wife.”

A band of raiders refers to a group or band of people who engage in sudden attacks or incursions, often to plunder or capture goods, livestock, or people. In the context of the bible, raiding parties were a common feature in the ancient Near East and are frequently mentioned in the Old Testament narratives. We first see this mentioned in Genesis 49:19, as Jacob blesses his sons.

The KJV version describes her as a little maid who was brought away as a captive from the land of Israel. The Strong’s Hebrew concordance describes little-'qatan’ as young, small, insignificant, and unimportant. This insignificant maid had been violently taken away from her home, forced into slavery in a foreign land, and stripped of her freedom. She was now serving the wife of one of the very men who represented her captors. 

But despite her circumstances, in verse 3, we see that her heart is not bitter; she doesn’t remain silent but instead speaks with faith, compassion, and boldness. While living under the same roof as the very people responsible for her pain and loneliness, her heart remains tender. Seeing someone else in a different type of pain, she decides to take action with the faith and knowledge she has. Reading this chapter from this perspective reminded me of a statement I heard in August last year from Rantiade Benson-Idahosa:

“Those who bear scars must heal the wounded.”

It’s a statement that I had heard in different iterations during my therapy sessions. Still, my mind hadn’t wrapped around it like it did while I was unpacking this verse during my quiet time. When I looked at the unnamed servant girl a little closer, the raid not only stole her freedom, but it possibly also stole her identity and left her with a lot of scars. However, her hope, faith, compassion, and voice remained with her because these were the things that God used to set this miracle in motion.

Before I share my lessons from this servant girl, I would like to preface this discussion by saying that I do not believe in, nor advocate for, us taking on the role of healing those who hurt us, because forgiveness doesn’t always mean reconciliation. We are mainly called to pray for those who persecute us (Matthew 5:44) and to release people from the prison of our unforgiveness. I, however, believe that carrying scars gives you the profound power to see the pain in someone else and say, I know a way out. It allows people who are healing to help provide some healing for someone else because they have experienced the same pain, made peace, worked through it, and now are the best people to pay it forward.

What made this moment powerful was that she, a wounded person, pointed another wounded person toward the Healer. She didn’t say I can heal you, but she wished that her master would see the Prophet in Samaria, who was submitted to the God of Israel, the ultimate source of healing. 

And that’s the heart of this reflection: those who bear scars are often the ones God uses to bring healing to others. 

Here are my lessons from the little servant girl;

• She chose compassion over bitterness.

She had every reason to close off her heart. She was a victim of war, a servant in a foreign land, and young and traumatized. But rather than allowing her pain to harden her, she allowed it to soften her toward someone else’s suffering. This teaches us that just because we’re hurting doesn’t mean we’re disqualified from being used by God. 

It’s often the places where we’ve been hurt that allow us to see others’ pain more clearly. Healing doesn’t always come after our pain has ended; sometimes, it flows through it.

• She spoke from faith, not position.

She didn’t have a title, influence, or power; in fact, she is described as insignificant. But she had faith, and she had a voice. It only took one sentence to change Naaman’s life.

“If only my master would go to the prophet in Samaria…”

This simple statement was a faith-filled declaration based on what she believed about God’s power to heal. 

It’s a reminder that faith doesn’t require a platform. Your story, your experience, and your belief in God’s ability to restore can impact someone else, even if you feel unseen or unqualified.

• Her scars became her qualification.

Sometimes, we think God only uses the whole, the healed, or the highly qualified. But Scripture tells a different story. Throughout the Bible, God often works through the broken, the unnamed, and the unlikely- I mean, look at the women listed in Jesus’ genealogy.

This servant girl’s captivity didn’t disqualify her; it positioned her. Many individuals who endure trauma often develop a heightened sense of empathy as they understand firsthand the pain and suffering involved. Her pain gave her a front-row seat to someone else’s need, and her faith made her a vessel God could use.

Reflection Questions

- Is there a place in my life where I’ve been wounded but remained silent out of fear or bitterness?

- Could God be asking me to speak from that very place, not because I’ve fully healed, but because I remember what it’s like to hurt?

- Am I willing to be used by God in the middle of my unanswered prayers?

God doesn’t waste pain. The scars you carry may be the very thing that helps someone else believe healing is possible. Like the servant girl, you may not have all the answers, but if you know the Healer, you know enough.

Let your scars become testimonies. Let your voice be a vessel. And trust that God can use even your most painful chapters to bring hope to someone else’s story.