I hear your fear, but let your fear be of the right kind. Why is your soul so cast down merely at the threat to bodily sight? You are a citizen of heaven, yet you tremble as those who have no hope. The barbarians came from a far country and worshipped Him with fear and trembling; shall we, who have tasted the heavenly gift, be overcome by a terror fit for slaves? When that prison of death was burst and the keepers of hell cowered, the dead were loosed. Shall a child of that victory now cower before a shadow of affliction? Do not let this fear master you, for the fearful and unbelieving have their part in the lake of fire, but perfect love casts out fear. This terror you feel is a cup you must refuse to drink, a snare of the enemy to choke the word within you, like thorns springing from the deceitfulness of the world’s cares.
Consider Saul, later Paul, whom the Lord struck blind for a season. Was this a calamity? Far from it. God said to the trembling Ananias, “He is blind, and he prayeth, and art thou afraid?” That very blindness became his schoolroom. With his bodily eyes closed, the eyes of his soul were pried open. He who had breathed threats saw only Christ. His fear was swallowed up in prayer, and from that darkness he received a sight more precious than gold. Do you not see? Sometimes God dims the outer light to kindle the inner light with a brighter flame. The eye of the body falters so that the eye of faith may see more clearly the exceeding weight of glory. The Lord says, “My yoke is easy, and my burden is light.” Do not bristle at a burden which, however heavy it seems, He Himself has declared to be light. If your eyes were perfectly whole and your soul diseased unto death, what profit would that be? But if through this small affliction your soul clings to the hem of His garment with desperate love, what loss is that?
You fear that your eyesight may not be alright, but I tell you that the fear itself is the greater sickness. It is a fire kindled in the house of your soul by the enemy, and you must not shut yourself up with that fear as those who refuse to confront the danger for their own selfish ease. Flee from this dread as from a filthy garment you would be ashamed to touch. Should you embrace a terror that defiles your mind, any more than you would kiss and embrace an unclean thing? Do not make a pact with fear. Abstain not merely from sinful actions, but from the servile fear that betrays a heart not yet fully trusting its Master. I do not demand the fear of a slave who only obeys from dread of the lash. Your body is weak and needs much condescension, yes, but rise to the love that makes fear its willing and joyful handmaid. Let not your soul be filled with a scrupulous, tormenting fright that enquires endlessly into every symptom as if Christ did not know or care.
Do you wish for your sight to be truly alright? Then seek it not primarily for this fleeting life. Pray for that sight which Ananias brought to Paul: not merely the opening of earthly eyes, but the reception of the Spirit, that by your zeal and earnestness you may draw grace upon your soul. Perhaps the Lord permits this affliction so that you, being forced to relinquish some earthly vision, might see Him more clearly, who meets His disciples with the words “All hail,” and dispels every fear. The women held Him by the feet with joy; so cling to Christ in your prayer. He does not tell you the outcome, teaching us not to speak of future achievements but to trust in His goodness. Do not say, “Lord, how can these things be?” If He chooses to restore your sight, it will be for His glory. If He asks you to suffer a little darkness, it will be to show you how great things He can work in a soul that trusts Him. The real terror is not bodily blindness, but a soul that refuses to see Jesus. Let this fear drive you not to panic, but to that healing disposition where, even on earth, you stand in heaven. Tell Him, “Lord, I have heard by many of Your mercy; I know the evil my own anxiety works against Your peace. Do not cast me into the mouth of the lion of despair, but give me the sight that truly matters.”