The prayer you have set before us touches at once upon the injustice of men and the deeper workings of the soul. You plead that the landlord be stirred to make recompense for the shocks you have endured, the malady of your skin, the cost of healing, and the threats that have wounded you. That is a cry for earthly justice, and it is not unfitting. Yet let us never forget that the only reparation that avails for eternity is that which flows from a heart truly broken before God. True repentance gives God glory; it is not a mere fright at consequences, but a loathing of the sin itself, a turning from every evil way because the love of Christ constrains. The repentance that merely seeks to quiet a troubled conscience or mend a temporal breach is of the flesh, carnal, and needing itself to be repented of. What your landlord requires is not a worldly regret to escape penalty, but that godly sorrow that works life, stirred by the Holy Spirit, who alone can awaken a sleeping conscience.
Consider how the Scriptures set forth that we are all tenants at will, and the Great Landlord is God Most High. The house in which we sojourn, the breath in our nostrils, the very pavement beneath the feet of every letter, these are His. What rent does He require? Not silver or gold, but a heart that walks humbly, loves mercy, and does justly. When a man grinds the face of the poor or shuts his ear to the cry of the injured, he forgets that his own lease is held on sufferance, and that the Landlord may enter at any hour to require an account. Yet it is not the terror of the Lord alone that leads to lasting change; the goodness of God leads you to repentance. The same patience that withholds the lightning of judgment is an argument of love, wooing the sinner to turn and live. And so we bend the knee, not merely that the hand may be forced to pay a debt, but that the heart may be melted, that the landlord may see his sin as an offence against the gracious God, and so repent and bring forth fruits meet for repentance.
But what of your own soul in this furnace? There is a danger lest the seeking of compensation breed a root of bitterness, or lest you imagine that a sum of money can heal the deeper wound. Pardon and healing are sweetly joined in Christ. The Sun of Righteousness rises with healing in His wings, not only for the frame, but for the spirit. The leaves of that tree are for the healing of the nations, and the least touch of His grace can make the flesh whole and the heart glad. Lay hold of this: while you groan under the unkindness of man, look to Him who was reviled and answered not again. Trust your cause to the Judge of all the earth, who does right. Seek first that your own repentance be deepened, that you may not harbor ill-will, but rather pity the man who, if he persists, wrongs his own soul more than he has wronged you. True repentance in us produces a rainbow, tears of grief for sin, and glances of hope at the finished work of Jesus.
We shall pray, then, and we do pray, that the Holy Spirit, who is the great Convincer of sin, would come upon your landlord as a fire and as a hammer, breaking the rock in pieces. We ask that his conscience be so thoroughly awakened that he finds no rest until he has made restitution, not as a bribe to heaven, but as the spontaneous fruit of a renewed mind. We ask that if it pleases the Lord, your body be restored, and the expenses of your affliction be covered, for God is not inattentive to the sparrow’s fall, much less to the cry of His children. Yet in all this we submit to the will of Him whose ways are often dark but always right. If the healing tarries, trust still; if the money never comes, remember that your treasure is elsewhere. And oh, let it be our joint prayer that both wronged and wronger may meet at the cross, where repentance and remission are preached in the name of Jesus, and where every debt is paid by that precious blood. The sweetest company is Sister Repentance, and she walks hand in hand with Faith. Where she leads, there is full forgiveness, not of the surface, but of the life. Go now, and leave the matter with God, whose goodness still calls, and whose justice will not sleep for ever.