This is a terrible affliction, a storm that has seized your very body, and I do not wonder that you are afraid. Yet do not imagine that God has abandoned you or that this spirit has true power over you. It is permitted for a time, as a severe chastening, to awaken your soul and to teach you to cling to Christ alone. You keep asking the thing to make your body swell, and it does, bringing agony, you want to stop but feel you cannot. Here is the first step: cease from bargaining with this tormentor. You are not its property. You were bought with the blood of Jesus Christ, and the evil one flees when he is boldly resisted in that name. The compulsion you feel is a lying suggestion; do not receive it, do not speak to it, do not ask anything of it. Turn your speech entirely. When the thought presses in, cry out, “Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me.” Say nothing else. Make no terms with the fiend. Say nothing to it. Speak only to God.
God does not promise that we will not fall into the furnace of affliction; He promises that He will be with us in it. The three holy children did not pray to be kept from the fire, but were ready to die, saying, “If not, be it known unto thee, O King, that we will not serve thy gods.” And He met them in the very flames. So it is with you. You are terrified, and your flesh screams with pain, yet do not seek deliverance on your own terms or in your own time. Do not say, “If He does not show mercy by this hour, I am lost.” Such bargaining sinks you deeper. Instead, prepare your mind to endure, knowing that this affliction, however sharp, is not the end but the narrow way that leads to life. The soul that is harassed and distressed is a soul that can be made intensely alive to God. Ease and pleasure make a man soft and open to every wickedness; affliction, borne with patience, cuts away our love for this present world and compels us to seek the comfort that comes from above. Your very desperation is a gift, if you will use it to flee to the Healer.
You are not beyond the reach of His mercy. Did not the Canaanite woman come with her daughter grievously vexed by a demon, and at first He seemed to repel her? He did this not to cast her off but to reveal her great faith and to heal her utterly. Her affliction drove her to worship Him and to beg not for her due but for mercy. Do the same. Say to the Lord, not “Let me command this,” but “Have mercy on me, a sinner. I am weak. I cannot stop. Stretch out Your hand and deliver me, for I am perishing.” The comfort of God does not consist in removing every pain the moment we ask; it consists in giving us strength and spaciousness within the suffering, so that we can bear it and even rejoice to be counted worthy to suffer for our purification. This pain you feel is real, but it is the thrashing of a defeated enemy. The Spirit who comforts you makes you more than conqueror through Christ. Stand still, then. Do not run to the theatre of your vain, tormenting thoughts. Enter the house of mourning for your own sin, and there you will find the gravity and wisdom that laughs at the devil’s empty threats. Cast your terror upon God. The swelling, the hurting, will not have the last word. He will make a way of escape, that you may be able to bear it, and soon you will find that He has been comforting you in the midst of your affliction all along. Blessed be God, the Father of mercies, who comforts us in all our tribulation.