This pain in your arm and shoulder, this heaviness of body in the pressing heat, you cry out for it to be taken away, and rightly so, for the Lord is our healer. But consider, I entreat you, what the Scripture calls our sins: thorns. For David saith, “I was turned into mourning when a thorn was fixed in me.” It does not simply come on us, but is fixed in; and even if but a little of it remain, that little of itself in like manner causes pain. And after it has been taken out, it leaves for a long time the pain of the wound. Much care is needed to heal the wounded place. So it is with the afflictions of the body; they often pierce us like thorns, fixed in to draw our gaze upward. Do not despise this galling discomfort, for such words, such pains, brace up our souls, make us more reverent, elevate the mind, and cast out mischievous desires. The thing becomes a cure.
You say you have been ill and down. I know that many hear such things with pain, and it is not without pain I say them. I could wish my discourse ever to be of the rest, the waters of rest, the green pastures where sorrow and sighing flee away. Yet if we must give pain to our hearers, not willingly but on compulsion, it is because we desire your salvation. Do not let this trial make you dull of hearing, as though God were far off. Tarry here in prayer and the reading of the Scriptures, even against your will, like one who passes by an ointment shop and is impregnated with the perfume. If you groan that while hearing you do not yet feel whole, this very groaning is no small profit; this fear is not useless. You will certainly come to the doing in time.
And while you wait, let your suffering be an altar. Humility is the head of virtue; it bears sacrifices acceptable to God. A contrite spirit, a heart made low by pain, is a sacrifice to the Lord. He is nigh unto them that are of a contrite heart. Let not the enemy see your sadness and be gladdened, for he knows the pleasure we give him by despair. Would you pain him? Be glad even in affliction, rejoicing that you are a sharer in the struggle of the saints, making his defeat your own. Though the body is worn, the inner nature is being renewed day by day. I entreat you, turn your gaze from the thorn to the Healer, who permits the wound that He might also show the remedy.