Chrysostom
Beloved of All
The depth of your love and faith for your friend shines in this prayer. You ask for a miracle, a reprieve from the edge of death, and your heart clings to hope. This is not a small thing, to see a soul in peril and cry out to the Lord of life. Yet even as you ask, let your faith be anchored not only in the sign you seek, but in the God who gives both life now and the life that never ends.
Consider the saints of old, of whom the world was not worthy. They obtained promises, yet many died in faith, not having received the full taste of those promises in this life. Abel was slain, yet he speaks. Enoch was translated so he did not see death, but the others, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, died without stepping into the full inheritance. They looked not for a city here, but for one whose builder and maker is God. Were they forgotten? By no means. God provided something better. So it is that even if the miracle you long for does not come in the way you ask, your friend is not abandoned. The promises of God are not bound to this passing breath alone.
I know you seek life for him because he has much to live for. But what is it to live? The Apostle said, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” The true life is to live unto God. That life is not taken away by bodily death, for Christ has swallowed up death in victory. The sting of death is sin, and that sting was pulled out by the cross. For those who have died with Christ, death is a sleep, and they wake to a morning without end. Do you see? Even now, if your friend is in Christ, he possesses everlasting life. That life is not suspended by a failing brain; it is hidden with Christ in God.
Do not let the lack of a visible miracle shake you. John the Baptist worked no miracle at all, yet Christ said none born of women was greater than he. Many whom the Lord used mightily, David, Elijah, Job, were not always marked by wonders, but by a life that displayed endurance and zeal for God. Miracles, unless we are sober, can even do harm, puffing up the heart or drawing attention to the vessel rather than the Giver. The greater wonder is a soul transformed, a faith that clings to God in the dark. I do not say this to diminish your plea, but to strengthen your heart for any outcome. Christ Himself, when he approached the fig tree, showed his power not only to give life but to take it away, yet always for a purpose that leads his own toward himself.
So pray, with all your might. Imitate the woman of Canaan who would not let go. Lay your friend at the feet of the shadow of Peter, if you will, for the Lord still works through the prayers of his people. But know this: whether he rises from that bed or falls asleep in the Lord, the final word is not death. Christ has died, and Christ is risen. And those who believe in him, though they die, yet shall they live. Entrust him to the one who loves him more than you can fathom, who gave his Son to draw him into life eternal. That is the miracle that outshines all others, the one that endures when brain and breath fail. Stand firm in that hope.
Consider the saints of old, of whom the world was not worthy. They obtained promises, yet many died in faith, not having received the full taste of those promises in this life. Abel was slain, yet he speaks. Enoch was translated so he did not see death, but the others, Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, died without stepping into the full inheritance. They looked not for a city here, but for one whose builder and maker is God. Were they forgotten? By no means. God provided something better. So it is that even if the miracle you long for does not come in the way you ask, your friend is not abandoned. The promises of God are not bound to this passing breath alone.
I know you seek life for him because he has much to live for. But what is it to live? The Apostle said, “I have been crucified with Christ; it is no longer I who live, but Christ lives in me.” The true life is to live unto God. That life is not taken away by bodily death, for Christ has swallowed up death in victory. The sting of death is sin, and that sting was pulled out by the cross. For those who have died with Christ, death is a sleep, and they wake to a morning without end. Do you see? Even now, if your friend is in Christ, he possesses everlasting life. That life is not suspended by a failing brain; it is hidden with Christ in God.
Do not let the lack of a visible miracle shake you. John the Baptist worked no miracle at all, yet Christ said none born of women was greater than he. Many whom the Lord used mightily, David, Elijah, Job, were not always marked by wonders, but by a life that displayed endurance and zeal for God. Miracles, unless we are sober, can even do harm, puffing up the heart or drawing attention to the vessel rather than the Giver. The greater wonder is a soul transformed, a faith that clings to God in the dark. I do not say this to diminish your plea, but to strengthen your heart for any outcome. Christ Himself, when he approached the fig tree, showed his power not only to give life but to take it away, yet always for a purpose that leads his own toward himself.
So pray, with all your might. Imitate the woman of Canaan who would not let go. Lay your friend at the feet of the shadow of Peter, if you will, for the Lord still works through the prayers of his people. But know this: whether he rises from that bed or falls asleep in the Lord, the final word is not death. Christ has died, and Christ is risen. And those who believe in him, though they die, yet shall they live. Entrust him to the one who loves him more than you can fathom, who gave his Son to draw him into life eternal. That is the miracle that outshines all others, the one that endures when brain and breath fail. Stand firm in that hope.
