The strength to help heal your marriage begins with surrendering to God.
By Randy Stroman
This article speaks primarily to husbands, but the lesson applies to women as well.
“So he went down and dipped himself seven times in the Jordan, according to the word of the man of God…” —2 Kings 5:14, ESV
Imagine David sitting across from his wife, Sarah, having another version of the same argument. He can explain everything she needs to change. She gets defensive. She doesn’t appreciate what he does. She brings up old wounds. And every time he tries to address something, she points out something he has done.
Finally, he leans back and says, “When you’re ready to work on your problems, let me know. Until then, I’m done being the one who tries.”
David believes he has taken a strong position. He has drawn a line, made his expectations clear, and placed the responsibility where he thinks it belongs. But the conversation ends with more distance between them. Sarah feels accused. David feels unheard. Neither feels loved, and their marriage remains right where it was.
David’s concerns may be valid. Sarah may have things she needs to acknowledge and change. But David has decided he will not take another step toward healing until she takes hers. Before we consider an appropriate response, let’s look at a man in Scripture who also wanted restoration—and nearly walked away from it.
A Strong Man with a Problem He Could Not Solve
Second Kings 5 introduces Naaman as a respected commander of the Syrian army. He was a man of position, accomplishment, and authority. His king valued him, and his military success had earned him honor. But the description of this impressive man ends with a problem none of his accomplishments could overcome: he had leprosy.
Naaman knew how to command soldiers, win battles, and exercise authority. Yet he could not order his body to become well. Beneath the position and reputation was a man who needed help he could not provide for himself.
A word of hope came from an unlikely person—a young Israelite girl who had been taken captive and served Naaman’s wife. She knew of a prophet in Samaria who could bring healing. Think about that: a powerful commander’s path toward restoration began with the words of a captive servant girl. He needed to receive something from a person who had none of his standing, power, or authority.
With his king’s support, Naaman traveled to Israel carrying a royal letter and substantial gifts. Eventually, he arrived at the home of the prophet Elisha with his horses and chariots. But the reception he received was nothing like the one he expected.
Elisha did not come outside. He sent a messenger instructing Naaman to wash in the Jordan River seven times. If he obeyed, he would be clean. There was an answer to his suffering. There was a clear next step. But Naaman became angry.
He Wanted Healing on His Terms
Naaman had already imagined how this encounter should unfold. The prophet would come out to him, call on the name of the Lord, and wave his hand over the diseased place. Instead, a messenger delivered an instruction that required Naaman to do something he considered beneath him.
He objected to the river as well. Damascus had rivers he considered better than the Jordan. Why should he wash here? Why should healing come this way? His response reveals the struggle underneath his anger. Naaman wanted healing, but he also wanted a say in how God provided it. When the instruction challenged his expectations, he treated it as an offense.
So, he turned away in a rage. Pause there. A man who could not heal himself was walking away from the very instruction that promised healing. His condition had brought him to Elisha’s door, but his pride was about to take him home unchanged.
We can understand wanting relief. We can understand hoping God will intervene. But Naaman’s story confronts us with a harder question: What happens when God’s direction requires us to surrender the very attitude we have been using to protect ourselves?
We may be willing to travel a great distance, spend considerable money, or do something impressive. Receiving a simple correction can be much harder. It asks us to admit that our judgment is not the final authority, and that needing help does not entitle us to dictate its form.
The Commander Had to Become Teachable
Thankfully, Naaman’s servants approached him. They asked him to reconsider: if the prophet had required some great accomplishment, would he not have done it? Why refuse this simple instruction?
Once again, wisdom came through people beneath him in rank. The commander who was accustomed to giving direction needed to receive it. His servants could reason with him, but they could not make the choice for him. Naaman had to decide whether to defend his expectations or obey the instruction.
This time, he listened. He went down to the Jordan and dipped himself seven times, as Elisha had directed. His flesh was restored, and he was clean. Afterward, he returned to Elisha and acknowledged the God of Israel.
God’s power brought the healing. Naaman did not earn it through an impressive act or force it through his authority. He received it as he humbled himself enough to obey.
His position could not heal him. His anger could not heal him. His insistence that another path would be better could not heal him. The turning point came when he stopped arguing with the instruction and acted on it. Naaman did not need more power over other people. He needed the humility to submit himself to God.
When a Husband Is Waiting for His Wife to Change
Now return to David and Sarah. David has identified what he believes is wrong with his wife. He wants her to listen, become less defensive, acknowledge her faults, and help restore their marriage. Some of those concerns may be entirely valid. But he has also decided how healing must begin: Sarah must change first. Until she does, he will withhold his own effort.
Like Naaman, David wants restoration while resisting a step that challenges his pride. He has come with an expectation about what someone else must do. But the direction he needs to receive concerns his own response.
Imagine David explaining his frustrations to a coach. After listening, the coach asks, “What is God asking you to change in the way you respond to Sarah?” David answers, “But what about her?”
That question reveals where he is stuck. He is willing to discuss her need for humility, but he resists examining his own. He wants her to receive correction while explaining why correction should not begin with him. He wants a softer heart from her while defending the hardness developing in his own.
The account of Naaman is about physical healing, not a formula for changing a spouse. But the spiritual lesson reaches directly into David’s situation: our desire for restoration does not excuse our refusal to humble ourselves before God.
David cannot make Sarah repent, listen, or change. He can speak truthfully about what hurts, ask for meaningful change, and invite her to seek help with him. But he cannot do the work of God in her heart, and he cannot make her choices for her. He can respond to what God is asking of him.
Leaving Sarah to God does not mean ignoring problems or giving up on the marriage. It means releasing his demand to control her transformation while accepting responsibility for his own obedience. Her faults do not give him permission to hold on to his.
The very qualities David longs to see in Sarah—openness, tenderness, honesty, and a willingness to change—need room to grow in him as well. As he practices them, he can help create a different kind of conversation, one where truth can be heard without every concern becoming another contest for control.
Sarah will still have choices to make. David’s humility cannot guarantee her response. But his refusal to humble himself is already contributing to the distance he wants to overcome. The question before him is no longer simply, “When will she change?” It becomes, “Will I obey God in what He is asking of me?”
Naaman had to make that choice before he stepped into the river. David faces it before his next conversation with his wife.
The Strength Found in Humility
Humility does not require you to pretend you are wrong about everything. It does require you to become willing to see where you are wrong. You can have a legitimate concern and still express it with contempt. You can accurately identify a problem and make it harder to resolve through the way you approach it. You might even think, “I have already changed so much. When is she going to change?”
There is strength in staying present when a conversation becomes uncomfortable. There is strength in listening without preparing a defense. There is strength in saying, “That was wrong, and I need to change it,” without following your apology with a list of your wife’s failures and your expectations for change.
James 4:6–7 connects humility with receiving God’s grace and submitting ourselves to Him. That gives us a different place to look for power. We do not have to manufacture it through louder demands, colder silence, or tighter control. We can turn to God for the grace to do what pride keeps resisting.
But humility is not a technique for getting your wife to do what you want. If you apologize only to make her apologize, control is still directing the conversation. Genuine surrender says, “Lord, I will do what You are asking because I trust You, even when I cannot control the outcome.”
A Different Conversation
Picture David returning to Sarah with a different heart. “I’ve been so focused on what I want you to change that I haven’t been willing to look honestly at myself,” he says. “Some things between us still need to be addressed, but I’ve been demanding that it is your turn to change. That has hurt us. I want to understand what my reactions have been like for you, and I want to work on my part.”
Sarah may not immediately trust what she hears. One conversation will not erase a pattern. She may question whether he means it, and she may bring up something he would rather not discuss.
This is where humility becomes more than a speech. David has to listen. He has to resist turning her response into another reason to withdraw. He has to follow his words with consistent action. He can still address his concerns. But now he can do so as a husband who is participating in the healing he is asking for.
Take Your Next Step
Start by asking God a personal question: “What am I demanding from my wife that I am unwilling to practice myself?” Give Him room to bring something specific to your attention. Perhaps you want patience but respond sharply. Perhaps you want respect but speak with contempt. Perhaps you want transparency but become defensive when she asks a difficult question.
Then take responsibility without attaching a condition. Offer a specific apology. Listen to understand. Keep a promise. Ask for help with a pattern you have not been able to change. Choose one act of obedience you can practice today, and continue practicing it even if progress is slower than you hoped.
You do not have to solve every problem in your marriage before you take your next faithful step. Naaman could have returned home with his expectations intact and his condition unchanged. Instead, he became willing to receive direction. God is inviting you to make a similar choice.
What if the very pride you have been using to protect yourself is keeping you from becoming the man God is calling you to be?
Your Next Step Begins with a Conversation
If you recognize yourself in this article, you do not have to figure out your next step alone. Through personal coaching, I help men examine the beliefs behind their reactions, take responsibility for their choices, and learn to lead themselves with humility as they work toward healing their marriage.
You can begin that work even if your wife is not yet ready to participate.
Visit RandyStroman.com to learn more about personal coaching and begin a conversation about your next step.
There’s still hope. Be strong enough to humble yourself—and let God begin His work in you.