Pride is a dangerous thing. It's sneaky, silent, and destructive. You don't see it coming until it has you trapped in a corner, far away from where you should be. Pride will make you feel invincible when you're weak, wise when you're foolish, and right when you're dead wrong. It was pride that turned an angel into the devil, and it's pride that keeps so many people from their breakthroughs even today. Pride doesn't just show up in palaces and boardrooms; it can sit comfortably in the hearts of the broken, the sick, and the desperate. Just look at Naaman.

Naaman was a great man. A commander. A warrior. A hero. He had power, position, and prestige. People bowed when he walked into the room, and nations feared the sound of his name. But behind the shiny armor and the accolades, Naaman had a problem—leprosy. A disease that didn't care about his status or his victories. It was eating away at his body and, even worse, at his soul. Now here's the twist: Naaman had a chance to be healed, to be made whole again, but pride almost robbed him of it.

Let me tell you, pride will keep you stuck. It'll make you miss your miracle. It will convince you that the answer to your problem is too simple, too beneath you, too ridiculous to work. Pride will whisper, "You're too smart for that," "You're too important to stoop that low." And while you're busy listening to pride, life keeps falling apart. You might not have leprosy like Naaman, but maybe your pride is blocking your healing in a different way.

Now, let's bring this closer to home. How many times have you ignored good advice because you didn't like who it came from? Maybe a coworker offered a suggestion, but you thought, "What do they know? I'm the expert here." Or maybe someone corrected you in love, and instead of listening, you got defensive. Pride isn't just loud arrogance; sometimes, it's quiet resistance. It's that voice in your head that says, "I can do this my way," even when your way isn't working.

Naaman's pride was his invisible enemy. He didn't mind fighting battles out there on the field, but the real war was happening inside him. When the prophet Elisha sent a messenger to tell him to wash in the Jordan River, Naaman was offended. He expected a grand display of healing—a prophet waving his hand, a booming voice from heaven, something dramatic. But instead, he was told to do something simple, almost laughable: dip in a muddy river seven times.

Think about social media. It's a breeding ground for pride. People curate their lives, showing off the highlight reel while hiding the struggles. Everyone wants to appear successful, happy, and in control. But behind the filters and hashtags, there are broken marriages, empty bank accounts, and restless nights. Pride keeps people from admitting the truth, even to themselves.

Sometimes, God will ask you to do something that doesn't make sense. He'll challenge your pride, your logic, your ego. Maybe He's telling you to forgive someone who hurt you deeply. Maybe He's nudging you to give up that job title that's been inflating your sense of worth. Maybe He's asking you to apologize, to admit you were wrong, or to step into a role that feels beneath you. The Jordan River is wherever God is calling you to let go of pride and trust Him.

YOUR JORDAN RIVER

What is your Jordan River? Is it an apology you've been avoiding? A conversation you're too proud to have? A step of faith that feels beneath you? Maybe it's admitting you need help—help with your finances, your health, your marriage, your faith. Whatever it is, don't let pride keep you from stepping in.

This isn't just a story about Naaman; it's...