Sickness by J.C. Ryle

"The one You love is sick." [John 11:3] The chapter from which this text is taken from is well known to all Bible readers. In lifelike description, in touching interest, in sublime simplicity, there is no writing in existence that can compare with that chapter. A narrative like this is to my on mind one of the great proofs of the inspiration of Scripture. When I read the story of Lazarus, I feel "There is something here which the unbeliever can never account for." "This is nothing else but the finger of God." The words which I chiefly dwell upon in this chapter are especially moving and instructive. They record the message which Martha and Mary sent to Jesus when their brother Lazarus was sick: "Lord, the one You love is sick." That message was short and simple. Yet almost every word is deeply suggestive. Note the child-like faith of these holy women. They turned to the Lord Jesus in their hour of need, as the frightened infant turns to its mother, or the compass needle turns to the North Pole. They turned to Him as their Shepherd, their almighty Friend, their Brother born for adversity. As different as they were in natural disposition, the two sisters in this matter were entirely agreed. Christ's help was their first thought in the day of trouble. Christ was the refuge to which they fled in the hour of need. Blessed are all they that do likewise! Note the simple humility of their language about their brother Lazarus. They call him, "The one You love." They don't say, "He who loves You, believes in You, serves You," but "The one You love." Martha and Mary had a deep understanding of God. They had learned that Christ's love towards us, and not our love towards Christ, is the true basis of hope, and the true foundation of faith. Blessed, again, is everyone who has learned these same truths! To look inward to our love towards Christ is painfully unsatisfying: to look outward to Christ's love towards us is peace. Note, lastly, the touching circumstance which the message of Martha and Mary reveals: "Lord, the one You love is sick." Lazarus was a good man, converted, believing, renewed, a friend of Christ, and an heir of glory. And yet Lazarus was sick! Therefore, sickness is not a sign that God is displeased. Sickness is intended to be a blessing to us, and not a curse. "We know that in all things God works for the good of those who love Him, who have been called according to His purpose." [Romans 8:28] "The world, life, death, the present or the future--all are yours, and you are of Christ, and Christ is of God." [1 Corinthians 3:22-23] I say again, blessed are those who have learned this! Happy are those who can say, when they are sick, "This is my father's doing. It must be good." I invite the attention of my readers to the subject of sickness. The subject is one we ought frequently to look squarely in the face. We cannot avoid it. You don't have to be a prophet to see sickness coming to each one of us some day. Let us turn aside for a few moments, and consider sickness as Christians. Reflection on it will not accelerate its coming, and by God's blessing, the examination of sickness, may teach us wisdom. In considering the subject of sickness, three points appear to me to demand attention. On each I will say a few words. I. The "universal prevalence" of sickness and disease. II. The "general benefits" which sickness bestows on mankind. III. The "special duties" to which sickness calls us. VI. The "universal prevalence of sickness" I don't need to dwell very long on this point. To elaborate on the proofs of it would only be multiplying self-evident truths, which the majority of people already acknowledge. Sickness is everywhere. In Europe, in Asia, in Africa, in America; in hot countries and in cold, in civilized nations and in savage tribes--men, women, and children get sick and die. Sickness is found in all classes. Grace does not lift a believer above the reach of it. Riches will not buy exemption from it. Rank cannot prevent its assaults. Kings and their subjects, Presidents and their people, masters and servants, rich men and poor, educated and uneducated, teachers and students, doctors and patients, ministers and their congregation, all alike go down before this great foe. "The wealth of the rich is their fortified city." [Proverbs 18:11] A man's house is called his castle; but there are no doors and barricades which can keep out disease and death. Sickness comes in a variety of ways. From the top of our head to the sole of our feet we are prone to disease. Our capacity of suffering is something fearful to contemplate. Who can count up the ailments by which our bodies may be attacked? It is not so amazing to me, that men die so soon, as it is that they should live so long. Sickness is often one of the most humbling and distressing trials that can come upon men and women. It can turn the strongest into a little child, and make him feel helpless. It can unnerve the boldest, and make him tremble at the sound of a leaf being blown by the wind. The connection between body and mind is curiously close. The influence that some diseases can exercise upon the mood and spirits is very great. There are diseases of the brain, the liver, and the nerves, which can bring down a Solomon in mind to a state little better than that of a baby. He who wants to know to what depths of humiliation man can fall, has only to spend a little time on sick-beds. Sickness is not preventable by anything that man can do. The average duration of life may doubtless be somewhat lengthened. The skill of the doctor may continually discover new remedies, and accomplish remarkable cures. The enforcement of wise sanitary regulations may greatly lower the death rate in a country. But, after all--whether in healthy or unhealthy localities--whether in mild climates or in cold--whether treated with home remedies or modern medicines' latest drug--men and women will get sick and die. "The length of our days is seventy years - or eighty, if we have the strength; yet their span is but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away." [Psalm 90:10] That witness is indeed true. It was true 3,300 years ago. It is still true. Now what can we make of this great fact--the universal prevalence of sickness? How shall we account for it? What explanation can we give of it? What answer will we give to our inquiring children when they ask us, "Father, why do people get sick and die?" These are grave questions. A few words on them will not be out of place. Can we suppose for a moment that God created sickness and disease at the beginning? Can we imagine that He who formed our world in such perfect order was the Creator of needless suffering and pain? Can we conceive that He who made all things "very good," made Adam's race subject to sickness and death? The idea is, to my mind, revolting. It introduces a grand imperfection into the midst of God's perfect works. I must find another solution as to the origin of sickness to satisfy my mind. The only explanation that satisfies me is that which the Bible gives. Something has come into the world which has dethroned man from his original position, and stripped him of his original privileges. Something has come in, which, like a handful of gravel thrown into the midst of machinery, has marred the perfect order of God's creation. And what was that "something?" I answer, in one word, it is sin. "Sin entered the world . . . . and death through sin." [Romans 5:12] Sin is the cause of all sickness, and disease, and pain, and suffering, which prevail on the earth. They are all a part of that curse which came into the world when Adam and Eve ate the forbidden fruit and fell. There would have been no sickness, if there had been no fall. There would have been no disease, if there had been no sin. I pause for a moment at this point, and yet in pausing I do not depart from my subject. I pause to remind my readers that there is no ground so untenable as that which is occupied by the Atheist, the Deist, or the unbeliever in the Bible. Boldly, I say that it requires far more faith to be an atheist than to be a Christian. Boldly, I say, that there are numerous and obvious facts in the condition of mankind , which nothing but the Bible can explain, and that one of the most striking of these facts is the universal prevalence of pain, sickness, and disease. In short, one of the greatest difficulties in the teachings of Atheists and Deists, is with the physical body of man. Surely you have heard of Atheists. An Atheist is one who professes to believe that there is no God, no Creator, no First cause, and that all things came together in this world by mere chance. Now shall we listen to such a doctrine as this? Go, take an Atheist to one of the excellent surgical schools of our land, and ask him to study the wonderful structure of the human body. Show him the matchless skill with which every joint, and vein, and valve, and muscle, and sinew, and nerve, and bone, and limb, has been formed. Show him the perfect adaptation of every part of the human body to the purpose which it serves. Show him the thousand devices for confronting wear and tear, and replenishing the daily loss of strength. And then ask this man who denies the existence of a God, and a great First Cause, if all this wonderful system of components is the result of chance? Ask him if it came together at first by luck or accident? Ask him if he thinks about the watch he looks at each day, and the bread he eats, of the coat he wears? Oh, no! Design is an insurmountable difficulty in the Atheist's way. "There is a God." You have certainly heard of Deists. A Deist is one who professes to believe that there is a God, who made the world and everything in it. But He does not believe the Bible. "A God, but no Bible! A Creator, but no Christianity! This is the Deist's creed. Now, shall we listen to this doctrine? Go again, I say, and take a Deist to a hospital, and show him some of the awful handiwork of disease. Take him to the bed where lies some tender child, scarcely knowing good from evil, with an incurable cancer. Send him to the ward where there is a loving mother of a large family in the last stage of some excruciating disease. Show him some of the agonizing pains and sufferings which flesh has inherited, and ask him to account for them. Ask this man, who believes there is a great and wise God who made the world, but cannot believe the Bible--ask him how he accounts for these traces of disorder and imperfection in his God's creation. Ask this man, who sneers at Christian theology and is too wise to believe the fall of Adam--ask him to explain the origin of the universal prevalence of pain and disease in the world. You will ask in vain! You will not get a satisfactory answer. Sickness and suffering are insurmountable obstacles in the Deist's way. "Man has sinned, and therefore man suffers." Adam fell from his original position of joy and bliss, and therefore Adam's children get sick and die. The universality of sickness is one of the indirect evidences that the Bible is true. The Bible explains it. The Bible answers the questions concerning it which will originate in every inquiring mind. No other systems of religion can do this. They all fail here. They are silent. They are confused. Only the Bible looks the subject directly in the face. It boldly proclaims the fact that man is a fallen creature, and with equal boldness proclaims a vast corrective system to meet his needs. I am forced to conclude that the Bible is from God. Christianity is a revelation from heaven. "Your word is truth." [John 17:17] Let us stand firm on the old ground, that the Bible, and the Bible only, is God's revelation of Himself to man. Don't be moved by the many new assaults which modern skepticism is making on the inspired Word of God. Don't be concerned about the difficult questions which the enemies of the faith are fond of raising about Bible difficulties, and to which perhaps you often feel unable to give an answer. Anchor your soul firmly on this safe principle--that the whole book is God's truth. Tell the enemies of the Bible that, in spite of all their arguments, there is no book in the world which will bear comparison with the Bible--none that so thoroughly meets the needs of man--none that explains so much of the state of mankind. As to the difficult things in the Bible, tell them you are content to wait. You find enough obvious truth in the book to satisfy your conscience and save your soul. The difficult things will be cleared up one day. What you don't know now, you will know then. II. The second point I propose to consider is "the general benefits which sickness confers on mankind." I use that word "benefits" cautiously. I feel it is of the utmost importance to see this part of our subject clearly. I know well that sickness is one of the supposed weak points in God's government of the world, on which skeptical minds love to dwell--"Can God be a God of love, when He allows pain? Can God be a God of mercy, when He permits disease? He could prevent pain and disease; but He doesn't. How can these things be?" Such is the reasoning which often comes across the heart of man. I reply to all such skeptics, that their doubts and questionings are most unreasonable. They might as well doubt the existence of a Creator, because the order of the universe is disturbed by earthquakes, hurricanes, and storms. They might as well doubt the providence of God, because of the horrible massacres that have occurred in history. All this would be just as reasonable as to doubt the mercy of God, because of the presence of sickness in the world. I ask all who find it hard to reconcile the prevalence of disease and pain with the love of God, to focus their eyes on the world around them, and to note what is going on. I ask them to observe the extent to which men constantly submit to present loss for the sake of future gain--present sorrow for the sake of future joy--present pain for the sake of future health. The seed is buried in the ground, and rots: but we sow in the hope of a future harvest. Children are sent to school amidst many tears: but we send them in the hope of their getting future wisdom. The father of a family undergoes some fearful surgery: but he bears it, in the hope of future health--I ask men to apply this great principle to God's government of the world. I ask them to believe that God allows pain, sickness, and disease, not because He loves to torment man, but because He desires to benefit man's heart, and mind, and conscience, and soul, for all of eternity. Once more I repeat, that I speak of the "benefits" of sickness on purpose and cautiously. I know the suffering and pain which sickness entails. I admit to the misery and wretchedness which it often brings. But I cannot regard it as an unmixed evil. I see in it a wise permission of God. I see in it a useful provision to check the ravages of sin and the devil among men's souls. If man had never sinned I would have been at a loss to discern the benefit of sickness. But since sin is in the world, I can see that sickness is good for man. It is a blessing quite as much as a curse. I admit that it is a rough schoolmaster. But it is a real friend to man's soul. (a) Sickness helps to "remind men of death." Most people live as if they were never going to die. They follow business, or pleasure, or politics, or science, as if the earth was their eternal home. They plan and scheme for the future, like the rich fool in the parable, as if they had a long lease on life, and were not simply tenants whose length of stay is brief. A serious illness sometimes goes a long way to dispel these delusions. It awakens men from their daydreams, and reminds them that they have to die as well as to live. Now this I say emphatically is a mighty advantage of sickness. (b) Sickness helps to "make men think seriously of God," and their souls, and the world to come. Most people when they are living in the days of health can find no time for such thoughts. They dislike them. They ignore them. They count them troublesome and unpleasant. Now a severe disease has sometimes a wonderful power of gathering and rallying these thoughts, and bringing them up before the eyes of a man's soul. Even a wicked king like Benhadad, when sick, thought of Elisha. [2 Kings 8:8] Even heathen sailors, when death was in sight, were afraid, and "All the sailors were afraid and each cried out to his own god." [Jonah 1:5] Surely anything that makes men think is good. (c) Sickness helps to "soften men's hearts," and teach them wisdom. The natural [unsaved] heart is as hard as stone. It can see no good in anything which is not of this life, and no happiness except what is found in this world. A long illness sometimes goes a long way to correct these ideas. It exposes the emptiness and hollowness of what the world calls "good" things and teaches us to hold them loosely. The businessman finds that money alone is not the answer to everything the heart desires. The woman of the world finds that expensive clothes, and the reading of novels, and the accounts of grand parties and operas, are miserable comforters in a hospital room. Surely anything that causes us to alter our value of earthly things is a real benefit. (d) Sickness helps to "level and humble us." We are all naturally proud and somewhat conceited. Few, even of the poorest class, are free from the infection. Few are to be found who do not look down on somebody else, and secretly flatter themselves that they are "not like other men." A sick bed is a mighty tamer of such thoughts as these. It forces on us the mighty truth that we are all poor debased creatures, that we "live in houses of clay," and are "crushed more readily than a moth!" [Job 4:19], and that kings and subjects, masters and servants, rich and poor, are all dying creatures, and will soon stand side by side in judgment, in front of God. In the sight of the coffin and the grave it is not easy to be proud. Surely anything that teaches that lesson is good. (e) Finally, sickness helps "to test men's religion," showing what kind it is. Most people on earth have some kind of religion, yet few have a religion that will hold up under inspection. Most are content with traditions received from their fathers, and can furnish no reason for the hope that is in them. Now disease is sometimes most useful to a man in exposing the utter worthlessness of the foundation of his soul. It often shows him that he has nothing solid under his feet, and nothing firm to hold on to with his hand. It makes him find out that, although he may have had a form of religion, he has, for all of his life, been worshipping "an unknown God." Many a belief looks good on the smooth waters of health, which turns out utterly unsound and useless on the rough seas of the sick-bed. The winter storms often bring out the defects in a man's house, and sickness often exposes the depravity of a man's soul. Surely anything that makes us find out the real character of our faith is good. I do not say that sickness bestows these benefits to everyone who is overcome with illness. Sadly, I can say nothing of the kind! Every year an innumerable number are overcome with illness, and restored to health, who evidently learn no lesson from their sick-beds, and return again to the world. Myriads are yearly passing through sickness to the grave, and yet receive no more spiritual understanding from it than the animals that perish. While they live they have no feeling, and when they die, "they have no struggles." [Psalm 73:4] These are awful things to say. But they are true, The degree of deadness to which man's heart and conscience may attain, is a depth which I cannot pretend to understand. But does sickness bestow the benefits of which I have been speaking on only a few? I will allow nothing of the kind. I believe that in very many cases sickness produces feelings and thoughts much like those of which I have just mentioned. I believe that in many minds sickness is God's "day of visitation"--the day He visits us, and that feelings are continually aroused on a sick bed which might, by God's grace, result in salvation. I believe that in heathen lands sickness often paves the way for the missionary, and makes the idolater listen to the good news of the Gospel. I believe that in our own country sickness is one of the greatest aids to the minister of the Gospel, and that sermons and teachings are often brought home in the day of disease which we have neglected in the day of health. I believe that sickness is one of God's most important secondary instruments in the saving of men, and that though the feelings it calls forth are often temporary, it is also often a means whereby the Spirit works effectually on the heart. In short, I firmly believe that the sickness of men's bodies has often led, in God's wonderful providence, to the salvation of men's souls. I leave this branch of my subject here. It needs no further remark. If sickness can do the things of which I have been speaking (and who will contradict it?), if sickness in a wicked world can help to make men think of God and their souls, then sickness confers benefits on mankind. We have no right to murmur at sickness, and grieve at its presence in the world. Rather we ought to thank God for it. It is God's witness. It is the soul's counselor. It is an stimulator to the conscience. It is a purifier to the heart. Surely I have a right to tell you that sickness is a blessing and not a curse--a aid and not an injury--a gain and not a loss--a friend and not a foe to mankind. So long as we have a world where there is sin, it is a mercy that it is a world where there is sickness. III. The third and last point which I propose to consider, is "the special duties which the prevalence of sickness requires of each one of us." I would be sorry to leave the subject of sickness without saying something on this point. I hold it to be of fundamental importance not to be content with generalities in delivering God's message to the souls. I am anxious to impress on each one who reads this paper, his own personal responsibility in connection with the subject. I desire that no one lay down this paper unable to answer the questions, "What practical lesson have I learned? What should I do in a world of disease and death? (a) One paramount duty which the prevalence of sickness requires of man, is that of "habitually living prepared to meet God." Sickness is a reminder of death. Death is the door through which we must all pass to judgment. Judgment is the time when we all must finally meet God face to face. Surely the first lesson which the inhabitant of a sick and dying world should learn should be to prepare to meet his God. When are you prepared to meet God? Never till your sins are forgiven, and covered! Never till your heart is renewed, and your will taught to delight in the will of God! You have many sins. Only the righteousness of Christ can make you acceptable in the sight of God. Only faith, simple childlike faith, can give you an interest in Christ and His benefits. Are you prepared to meet God? Then where is your faith? Your heart is naturally unsuitable for God's company. You have no real pleasure in doing His will. The Holy Spirit must transform you into the image of Christ. Old things must pass away. All things must become new. Are you prepared to meet God? Then where is your grace? Where are the evidences of your conversion and sanctification? I believe that this, and nothing less than this, is preparedness to meet God. Forgiveness of sin and being dressed to meet God--justification by faith and sanctification of the heart--the blood of Christ sprinkled on us, and the Spirit of Christ living in us--these are the grand essentials of the Christian faith. These are not mere words and names to furnish bones of contention for disputing theologians. These are sober, solid, substantial realities. To live in the actual possession of these things, in a world full of sickness and death, is the first duty which I press home to your soul. (b) Another principal responsibility which sickness requires of you, is that of "living a life that is constantly ready to bear it patiently." Sickness is no doubt a trying thing to flesh and blood. To feel our nerves weakened--to be obliged to sit still and be cut off from all our usual pastimes--to see our plans destroyed and our purposes disappointed--to endure long hours and days, and nights of weariness and pain--all this is a severe strain on poor sinful human nature. Is it any wonder that irritability and impatience are brought out by disease! Surely in such a dying world as this

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Sickness

J.C. Ryle

J.C. Ryle (1816 - 1900)

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