The weight of this request is not lost upon the sanctuary of a listening heart. To be sick of everything, hollowed out by relentless toil, and then to face the specter of a loved one’s grave illness, this is a furnace heated seven times hotter. And add to that the jarring, blasphemous intrusions of the enemy, which dash upon the mind at odd times and seek to make the soul cry out that God has forsaken you. It is a dreadful thing, yet it is most hopeful, for if Satan were your friend you might have cause to fear indeed. A pirate never attacks an empty vessel. That old serpent wastes no venom on a soul already in his coils; his hindrances prove you are a vessel bound for the port of Glory.
Yet here is the question of fear that rises from the ash heap: “Will He plead against me with His great power?” Hear the reply of faith with all the condensed sonnets of a mighty “No.” That very power, which you dread as a crushing foe, is your refuge. The Almighty lends His omnipotence; He puts strength into the worm so that the worm may thresh the mountains. You are burnt out because you have looked to your own fuel. Let your emptiness be the void the Spirit fills. When the saturation of sorrow makes you feel you must sin by charging God foolishly, remember Job. He sinned not. But let your tears fall with mine, for I who have suffered so little have often failed in far lighter breezes. Cease the rash challenges. If the case must be heard as “Jehovah versus you,” yield the point unreservedly. We are wrong; God must be right.
The fear of losing your companion to disease is a shadow that haunts the valley, but shadows are cast by a great Light. Since you cannot touch him with your hand as you long to do, touch God on his behalf. Mark well the turning point of Job’s long night: “The Lord turned the captivity of Job, when he prayed for his friends.” Those friends had vexed him with harsh speeches, yet he interceded. Your great work now, in the depths of your exhaustion, is to carry this burden not as a worrier but as a priest. Lay his afflicted flesh and your weary spirit before the throne with abiding confidence, for to trust in the dark is the highest form of devotion. No depths of misery are bottomless if Christ has descended into them; the captivity will be turned when God has gotten His end in the trial. Therefore, in defiance of the weariness that clings to your bones, I charge you now: do not fear. Fear not. This is your Master’s command, not merely a suggestion. The arm which piled the heavens shall never be palsied. Go, weep for him, pray for him, and see if the Lord does not turn your captivity too.