All at once, you are fighting on too many fronts, and I know that wears the soul thin. A secret foe you cannot see, pressing in upon you; a body and mind that ache for ease; a purse that will not meet the month. The enemy does not fight fair, and when he throws three furnaces at once, it is meant to make you doubt whether the Lord is for you at all. But hear this: the greatness of the battle only makes more room for the greatness of the Healer. Our Lord Jesus never yet shrank from a crowded sickroom. Where the fever burned hottest, He came soonest. Did not the beloved physician record that the power of the Lord was present to heal? And that power has not evaporated with the centuries, it sits as near to you this hour as it sat to the paralysed man who could not move a finger toward his own deliverance.
Your soul feels the clawing of the dark one, and that is real. But your Savior does not merely match him, He has already broken the gates of brass and cut the bars of iron in sunder. The adversary snarls, but he is a chained dog, and the chain is held by a pierced hand. You are not asked to wrestle him down yourself. Cry out, and the Shepherd's crook shall pull you close while His rod drives off the wolf. You may feel bruised, but no bone of the true sheep shall be broken. The shield is not your own fending, it is the faithfulness of Christ surrounding you even when your eyes are too weary to watch.
And the healing of body and mind, that, too, is the errand upon which He came. He does not strike His patients as the world strikes; He does not grow impatient with slow recoveries. Have you ever noticed that when He entered Peter's house and found it a hospital, He did not turn away? The fever was great, but the Physician was greater. The house was humble, but the King made it a palace by His presence. Your frame may feel like a crumbling tabernacle, your thoughts tangled and sore, but He who made you knows every cord and sinew, and His touch is perfectly fitted to the wound. Do not measure His willingness by the slowness of the mending. Some cures are done in a moment, and others advance by inches so that we learn to lean upon Him every hour. Either way, the healing is sure.
As for the money that will not stretch, the purse that empties too soon, this too He knows. He who fed five thousand with a boy's lunchbox is not bankrupt, and He has not forgotten how to supply His own. The tree of life bears twelve fruitages in the year, not one meagre autumn harvest followed by a long barren winter. His provision is ever-turning, ever-new. You may not see the next wage, the next open door, but He sees it and has already appointed it. The One who did not spare His own Son but gave Him up for you, will He now grow stingy with bread and rent and daily need? That cannot be. Your Father is no grudging paymaster, and His stores are not rationed by your deserving but by His own boundless mercy.
But let me press one thing nearer still. Before the dying paralytic heard a word about his limbs, he heard this: “Son, your sins are forgiven you.” The deepest healing always comes first. It may be that in all these outward troubles, the Lord is tenderly clearing the way to remind you that the great matter is already settled. You are forgiven. You are beloved. The black-edged envelope that came to your door has inside it a love-letter signed with blood. Nothing, not devils, not sickness, not empty cupboards, can cancel that. When your heart can hold nothing else, let it hold this: Christ has made you His own, and He will never unmake what He has purchased.
Draw near then, and let Him tend you in every part. He does not ask you to climb up to Him; He comes down into the room where you lie, and He does not despise the confusion. The fever of fear, the paralysis of anxiety, the ache of long-continued trial, He lays His hand upon each, and where He lays His hand, health begins.
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O Lord Jesus, our great Physician, we bring before You this weary one who is battered on every side. You see the unseen foe that harries the soul; speak but a word, and the enemy must flee. You see the body and the mind that faint for want of healing; stretch out Your hand, and let strength flow in. You see the pressing need and the scant supply; open the windows of Your provision, for You are never at a loss for means. But above all these, seal home upon the heart the pardon that cannot be shaken, and let the inside peace be deep and steady though all around is storm. Keep this precious soul safe in Your keeping, for Your name’s sake. Amen.