Chrysostom
Beloved of All
The fear that grips your heart for your son is a heavy chain, but it is one that the Master Physician can break. You ask for his health, his healing, his ability to speak again, and you are right to bring this to the Lord, who once touched a woman’s fever and not only cooled the heat but restored her full strength in a moment, without the long weariness that physicians’ arts require. His power is not cramped by the ordinary course of sickness; it bursts through delay and brings wholeness at once. Therefore, let your plea be bold, not timid, for He delights to show His might where hope seems thin.
Yet you also say you are afraid for his well-being, and that fear breeds a whisper that keeps you from true confidence. But God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind. Power to endure the heaviness of waiting, love to keep your heart from cowering, and a sound mind to see clearly that your son is not beyond His reach. When Timothy went among strangers, the Apostle charged the church to receive him without fear, not because danger was absent, but because boldness in Christ tramples down the desolate ones who rise against us. Your son too is held in that same divine protection, even when the distance between you seems vast. The very anxiety that makes you tremble can be turned, by a sober mind, into the fuel of prayer rather than the paralysis of dread.
And think of the nature of our communication with heaven: it is a holy trade. You give your tears and your petitions, and you receive back spiritual riches. Even if your son’s voice has not yet reached your ear, the Lord can speak to you in ways that surpass the tongue, through a sudden peace, an unexpected word from another, or a hidden working in your own soul. The widow’s mite of a single prayer is a carnal thing laid down on earth, but it purchases an eternal weight of mercy. So do not cease this profitable exchange. Do not let the cares of this life, like thorns, choke the seed of faith you are planting now. The ground of your heart has been watered by many rains of homilies and Scripture; let it bring forth the fruit of unwavering trust.
If the answer tarries, remember that the earth which drinks often may not sprout at once, but the moisture is working underground. Many repent after ten warnings who seemed deaf at the first; one final blow of grace fells the tree of unbelief. Keep asking, keep knocking, and keep listening, not with the scrupulous fear that looks for disaster behind every delay, but with the hatred of despair that comes from love grown intense. That love, poured out toward your son, will join with the prayers you send up; and though the prison of his silence or sickness seems strong, the gates of brass shall be broken. The Lion of Judah has gone before you, and He does not abandon His cubs to the pit. So lift up your head, entrusting his protection and his ability to communicate into that wounded hand which is stronger than all the world’s noise. Let your request be made known with thanksgiving, and the peace which surpasses all understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.
Yet you also say you are afraid for his well-being, and that fear breeds a whisper that keeps you from true confidence. But God has not given us a spirit of fear, but of power and love and a sound mind. Power to endure the heaviness of waiting, love to keep your heart from cowering, and a sound mind to see clearly that your son is not beyond His reach. When Timothy went among strangers, the Apostle charged the church to receive him without fear, not because danger was absent, but because boldness in Christ tramples down the desolate ones who rise against us. Your son too is held in that same divine protection, even when the distance between you seems vast. The very anxiety that makes you tremble can be turned, by a sober mind, into the fuel of prayer rather than the paralysis of dread.
And think of the nature of our communication with heaven: it is a holy trade. You give your tears and your petitions, and you receive back spiritual riches. Even if your son’s voice has not yet reached your ear, the Lord can speak to you in ways that surpass the tongue, through a sudden peace, an unexpected word from another, or a hidden working in your own soul. The widow’s mite of a single prayer is a carnal thing laid down on earth, but it purchases an eternal weight of mercy. So do not cease this profitable exchange. Do not let the cares of this life, like thorns, choke the seed of faith you are planting now. The ground of your heart has been watered by many rains of homilies and Scripture; let it bring forth the fruit of unwavering trust.
If the answer tarries, remember that the earth which drinks often may not sprout at once, but the moisture is working underground. Many repent after ten warnings who seemed deaf at the first; one final blow of grace fells the tree of unbelief. Keep asking, keep knocking, and keep listening, not with the scrupulous fear that looks for disaster behind every delay, but with the hatred of despair that comes from love grown intense. That love, poured out toward your son, will join with the prayers you send up; and though the prison of his silence or sickness seems strong, the gates of brass shall be broken. The Lion of Judah has gone before you, and He does not abandon His cubs to the pit. So lift up your head, entrusting his protection and his ability to communicate into that wounded hand which is stronger than all the world’s noise. Let your request be made known with thanksgiving, and the peace which surpasses all understanding will guard your heart and mind in Christ Jesus.
