Your fear is sharp and your prayer natural, but let us not lose our way in it. You ask that the Lord ensure you do not have what you dread, that the results be clear and nothing serious found. Yet consider: what is the thing truly to be dreaded? The homily says we shudder at hearing of eternal punishment and the fire that is never quenched, and that we have need of sackcloth more than the Ninevites. A sickness of the body, however bitter, is a present and passing thing. But the soul that stands unready, choked by the cares of this world and the deceitfulness of riches, faces a ruin from which there is no recovery. Your anxiety proves that this thorn of worldly care has already sprung up, drinking in the rain of God’s word but yielding only fear of the body’s fate.
You ask Jesus to save you from illness and stress. But His own yoke is easy and His burden light, and He promises rest for your soul, not a life free from every trial of the flesh. The rest He gives is found in taking His yoke upon you and learning from Him, even in the midst of affliction. To be so fixed upon a particular medical outcome is to make scrupulous inquiry, like one who eats in dread and not in faith, as if God’s goodness depended on a clean report from the physician. The stronger soul asks no such anxious question, but accepts what comes, knowing that neither health nor sickness can separate from the love of Christ.
Do not misunderstand: I do not say you should not pray or seek healing. But let your fear be turned aright. You are standing in the presence of God at every moment, who sees all things and hears all things, even the thoughts of your heart. If you would be rid of anxiety, then consider that He is present with you now, not as a harsh judge waiting to condemn a symptom, but as One who works in you both to will and to work for His good pleasure. Work out your own salvation with fear and trembling, not trembling at a diagnosis, but at the thought of offending so good a Master. The earth drinks in the rain that comes often upon it, but if it bears only thorns when the sun rises, it is fit for burning. Your present trial is such a sun, revealing what your soul truly treasures.
Let your prayer be this: that whether the results speak of health or of illness, you may be found faithful, bearing the fruit of the Spirit, which is love, joy, peace. Ask that the Lord would grant you not merely a passing calm, but that true rest which comes from a will wholly given over to Him. The cup of blessing which we bless is a communion of Christ’s own blood; you cannot drink that cup and the cup of demons, the cup of consuming dread and earthly desperation. Set your mind there, where the dead are raised and the prison of fear is burst. Then you will find the answer to your prayer is not always the removal of the thorn, but the presence of the Healer Himself, who is meek and lowly in heart, and in whose company even the shadow of death becomes a place of rest.