Chrysostom
Beloved of All
You feel useless and at your lowest, and that very cry rises to heaven. Do not despise that feeling as though it were mere weakness. The fullness of the times came when all were absolutely perishing, when it seemed man had been created in vain. At that point of utter ruin, God devised the dispensation of grace. You are not beyond rescue; you are at its threshold.
I hear your sufferings, the years of illness, the silence from employers, the weight that bends your soul. But take care that the enemy does not twist this burden into a sin against your own soul. The poor man who begs is not to be called impostor simply because his story is long and his clothes are ragged. Yet we do this to ourselves also: “It stops my breath that I am young and healthy, yet have nothing.” But turn that voice around. Let it say to you with more justice: “Why do you practice none of the things God commands, but go about in wickedness, in fear, in despair, as in a strange land?” Not that you are idle of hand, for you seek work, but do not let your heart sink into the idleness of despair, for sloth is the teacher of all wickedness.
You have applied and heard nothing. That silence is a trial, not a verdict on your worth. The Apostle says, “If any will not work, neither let him eat,” and you are willing. He also says to us, “Be not weary in well doing.” These are not contradictory. He urges you to labor, and He urges others to show mercy. Do your part by continuing to seek, and trust that God sees your effort. The closed door today may be the guardrail keeping you from a pitfall tomorrow.
But the deepest medicine for your depression is not a job, though I pray you receive one. It is to know what you have already received. Of His fullness have all we received, and grace for grace. You were baptized into Christ, and from that inexhaustible fountain you drew life. Think of a fountain of fire that kindles ten thousand lamps and remains undiminished. That incorporeal power is the grace in which you stand. You say you feel useless, but you have been made a partaker of adoption, of the new covenant, of the sanctification that does not fade. Sickness cannot touch that. Unemployment cannot revoke it. This grace is not past tense; it is present, even now, when your feelings deny it.
Let not your prayer be only for the removal of pain, but for the visitation of Christ in the pain. For He came not when we were strong, but when we were perishing. The very lowness you describe is the place He enters most swiftly, if you do not wall it up with bitterness. Offer Him your depression as a sacrifice of need, saying, “Lord, I have no strength, no hope of my own. I have only the grace I have already received. Fill what is empty.”
As for the church, we will pray with you for relief and for open doors of employment. But do not wait for a job to cease feeling useless. Begin now to do such good as you can: speak a word of encouragement to another, pray for those who suffer worse, give thanks even through gritted teeth. In this, your soul will be occupied, and the devil will find less room to accuse.
The same Paul who warned the idle also endured hunger, cold, and countless dangers. He was not useless. Neither are you. Cling to Christ, who is before all things, and whose fullness can fill even this abyss.
I hear your sufferings, the years of illness, the silence from employers, the weight that bends your soul. But take care that the enemy does not twist this burden into a sin against your own soul. The poor man who begs is not to be called impostor simply because his story is long and his clothes are ragged. Yet we do this to ourselves also: “It stops my breath that I am young and healthy, yet have nothing.” But turn that voice around. Let it say to you with more justice: “Why do you practice none of the things God commands, but go about in wickedness, in fear, in despair, as in a strange land?” Not that you are idle of hand, for you seek work, but do not let your heart sink into the idleness of despair, for sloth is the teacher of all wickedness.
You have applied and heard nothing. That silence is a trial, not a verdict on your worth. The Apostle says, “If any will not work, neither let him eat,” and you are willing. He also says to us, “Be not weary in well doing.” These are not contradictory. He urges you to labor, and He urges others to show mercy. Do your part by continuing to seek, and trust that God sees your effort. The closed door today may be the guardrail keeping you from a pitfall tomorrow.
But the deepest medicine for your depression is not a job, though I pray you receive one. It is to know what you have already received. Of His fullness have all we received, and grace for grace. You were baptized into Christ, and from that inexhaustible fountain you drew life. Think of a fountain of fire that kindles ten thousand lamps and remains undiminished. That incorporeal power is the grace in which you stand. You say you feel useless, but you have been made a partaker of adoption, of the new covenant, of the sanctification that does not fade. Sickness cannot touch that. Unemployment cannot revoke it. This grace is not past tense; it is present, even now, when your feelings deny it.
Let not your prayer be only for the removal of pain, but for the visitation of Christ in the pain. For He came not when we were strong, but when we were perishing. The very lowness you describe is the place He enters most swiftly, if you do not wall it up with bitterness. Offer Him your depression as a sacrifice of need, saying, “Lord, I have no strength, no hope of my own. I have only the grace I have already received. Fill what is empty.”
As for the church, we will pray with you for relief and for open doors of employment. But do not wait for a job to cease feeling useless. Begin now to do such good as you can: speak a word of encouragement to another, pray for those who suffer worse, give thanks even through gritted teeth. In this, your soul will be occupied, and the devil will find less room to accuse.
The same Paul who warned the idle also endured hunger, cold, and countless dangers. He was not useless. Neither are you. Cling to Christ, who is before all things, and whose fullness can fill even this abyss.
