Chrysostom
Humble Servant of All
Your words show a soul that has suffered much and now turns from the evil that brought this ruin. That turning is no small thing; it is the beginning of health. You have ceased to pour poison into your body, and now you call upon God to undo the damage left behind. He who stilled the storm can calm the troubled waters of your mind. The membranes of the brain have been impaired, as is common when age and excess join hands, but the Physician of souls and bodies is not bound by our weakness.
Yet do not fix your hope only on recovering your former life. You miss your daily routine, your freedom, your family. That longing, though natural, must be purified. To desire what is lost as if it could be grasped again by wishing is like a bird that dreams of soaring without wings. The desire itself, if left ungoverned, becomes a new torment. Instead, seek first the freedom that no circumstance can steal: the liberty of a soul freed from sin and bound to Christ. True freedom is not found in the absence of chains but in virtue reigning within. I have seen slaves more honorable than free men, and the poor wealthier than the rich, because they possessed this inner treasure.
Your sorrow over your daughters, your sister, the years devoured by grief and drink, this sorrow can be turned to profit. Sorrow for lost wealth repairs nothing; sorrow for the dead cannot raise them; sorrow for sickness only deepens the malady. But sorrow for sin, when it leads to repentance, brings healing and life. This sorrow you have, and it is a gift. Do not let it sour into despair. That man who abandoned you is not the root of your suffering. His betrayal was bitter, but the poison that ravaged your brain came not from his ghosting but from an ungoverned will that sought an impossible escape. Now the will is being set right. Let that be your focus.
Pray for physical healing, yes, and we shall pray with you, for we are compassed about with a great cloud of witnesses who endured much and were restored. Their memory is a refreshing shade to a soul scorched by grief. But do not measure God’s love by whether your body is made whole. He may restore your mind and strength gradually, or He may grant something better: a spirit so anchored in Him that even this affliction becomes a tutor leading you to holiness. Holiness is not merely chastity; it is freedom from every sin, from envy, resentment, and the vain pursuit of what is gone. Even almsgiving, if done to win praise, is tainted. So let your desire now be pure: to please God, not to reclaim a past that was itself full of snares.
We would have done you damage if we kept silent, offering only smooth words. But because we love you with a father’s freedom, we speak plainly. Do not think that because you have heard these things before and remained unchanged, this word is in vain. A tree may bear ten blows and not fall, yet the eleventh fells it, not by its own force alone, but because the earlier blows prepared the break. So too the many homilies you may have heard, the seasons of remorse, the prayers of others, they are not wasted. Today the fruit may appear.
Therefore rise from this bed of despondency. You no longer drink; that is a mighty stroke against the disease. Now guard the will. When memories of the past assault you, do not entertain them as welcome guests. They are sparks that rekindle the flame. Turn your mind to the cloud of witnesses: think of the saints who endured loss far greater and found Christ sufficient. He does not abandon the broken. Commend your daughters to God, and if you cannot be with them as you long, trust that He can guard them better than you. Pray for their souls, and in that holy work you shall find a purpose that no court or nursing home can confine.
May the Lord who rebuked the fever and gave sight to the blind touch the injury within your brain and restore what is lacking. But even if He permits a thorn to remain, know that His grace is sufficient, and power is made perfect in weakness. We will pray for you unceasingly. Only continue in repentance, cling to the Church, and receive the medicine of the divine mysteries. There is balm in Gilead; there is a Physician whose skill surpasses all understanding.
Yet do not fix your hope only on recovering your former life. You miss your daily routine, your freedom, your family. That longing, though natural, must be purified. To desire what is lost as if it could be grasped again by wishing is like a bird that dreams of soaring without wings. The desire itself, if left ungoverned, becomes a new torment. Instead, seek first the freedom that no circumstance can steal: the liberty of a soul freed from sin and bound to Christ. True freedom is not found in the absence of chains but in virtue reigning within. I have seen slaves more honorable than free men, and the poor wealthier than the rich, because they possessed this inner treasure.
Your sorrow over your daughters, your sister, the years devoured by grief and drink, this sorrow can be turned to profit. Sorrow for lost wealth repairs nothing; sorrow for the dead cannot raise them; sorrow for sickness only deepens the malady. But sorrow for sin, when it leads to repentance, brings healing and life. This sorrow you have, and it is a gift. Do not let it sour into despair. That man who abandoned you is not the root of your suffering. His betrayal was bitter, but the poison that ravaged your brain came not from his ghosting but from an ungoverned will that sought an impossible escape. Now the will is being set right. Let that be your focus.
Pray for physical healing, yes, and we shall pray with you, for we are compassed about with a great cloud of witnesses who endured much and were restored. Their memory is a refreshing shade to a soul scorched by grief. But do not measure God’s love by whether your body is made whole. He may restore your mind and strength gradually, or He may grant something better: a spirit so anchored in Him that even this affliction becomes a tutor leading you to holiness. Holiness is not merely chastity; it is freedom from every sin, from envy, resentment, and the vain pursuit of what is gone. Even almsgiving, if done to win praise, is tainted. So let your desire now be pure: to please God, not to reclaim a past that was itself full of snares.
We would have done you damage if we kept silent, offering only smooth words. But because we love you with a father’s freedom, we speak plainly. Do not think that because you have heard these things before and remained unchanged, this word is in vain. A tree may bear ten blows and not fall, yet the eleventh fells it, not by its own force alone, but because the earlier blows prepared the break. So too the many homilies you may have heard, the seasons of remorse, the prayers of others, they are not wasted. Today the fruit may appear.
Therefore rise from this bed of despondency. You no longer drink; that is a mighty stroke against the disease. Now guard the will. When memories of the past assault you, do not entertain them as welcome guests. They are sparks that rekindle the flame. Turn your mind to the cloud of witnesses: think of the saints who endured loss far greater and found Christ sufficient. He does not abandon the broken. Commend your daughters to God, and if you cannot be with them as you long, trust that He can guard them better than you. Pray for their souls, and in that holy work you shall find a purpose that no court or nursing home can confine.
May the Lord who rebuked the fever and gave sight to the blind touch the injury within your brain and restore what is lacking. But even if He permits a thorn to remain, know that His grace is sufficient, and power is made perfect in weakness. We will pray for you unceasingly. Only continue in repentance, cling to the Church, and receive the medicine of the divine mysteries. There is balm in Gilead; there is a Physician whose skill surpasses all understanding.
