“SICKNESS” (ABRIDGED VERSION)
J. C. Ryle
JOHN CHARLES RYLE is arguably the best-known and most influential Anglican bishop of the nineteenth century. Ryle is remembered for his uncompromising convictions, his faithful exposition of Scripture, his powerful Christ-centered preaching, his diligence in pastoral work, and his clarity in writing. Since his death on June 10, 1900, Ryle has continued to be a profound voice for the edification of the church and the furtherance of the gospel. In “Sickness”, J. C. Ryle approaches the topic of illness in a biblically faithful, pastoral, and thoughtful manner. My hope is that in reading Ryle’s heart on this matter, you will be led to a proper understanding of sickness and be fully equipped to care for the sick in your church to the glory of God.*
“The one you love is sick” (John 11:3).
The chapter from which this text is taken is well-known to all Bible readers. In lifelike description, in touching interest, in sublime simplicity, there is no writing in existence that will bear comparison with that chapter. A narrative like this is to my mind one of the great proofs of the inspiration of Scripture. When I read the story of Bethany, I feel, “There is something here that the nonbeliever can never account for.” — “This is nothing else but the finger of God.”
The words I especially dwell on in John 11 are singularly moving and instructive. They record the message that 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.
I invite the attention of my readers to the subject of sickness. The subject is one we ought frequently to look in the face. We cannot avoid it. It needs no prophet’s eye to see sickness coming to each of us in turn one day. “In the midst of life we are in death.” Let us take a few moments to consider sickness as Christians. The consideration will not hasten its coming, and by God’s blessing, it 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.
1. The universal prevalence of sickness and disease
2. The general benefits that sickness confers on mankind
3. The special duties to which sickness calls us
1. Universal Prevalence of Sickness
I need not dwell long on this point. To elaborate the proof of it would only be multiplying truisms accepted by all. Sickness is everywhere. In Europe, in Asia, in Africa, in America; in hot countries and in cold; in civilized nations and among savage tribes — men, women, and children get sick and die.
Sickness is known 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, masters and servants, rich men and poor, learned and unlearned, teachers and scholars, doctors and patients, ministers and hearers — all alike go down before this great foe. “The wealth of the rich is their fortified city” (Proverbs 18:11). The Englishman’s house is called his castle, but there are no doors and bars that can keep out disease and death.
Sickness is not preventable by anything that anyone can do. The average duration of life may doubtless be somewhat lengthened. The skill of doctors may continually discover new remedies and bring about surprising cures. The enforcement of wise sanitary regulations may greatly lower the death rate in a land. But, after all, whether in healthy or unhealthy localities, whether in mild climates or in cold, whether treated by alternative medicine or mainstream medicine, men and women will sicken and die. “Our days may come to seventy years, or eighty, if our strength endures; yet the best of them are but trouble and sorrow, for they quickly pass, and we fly away” (Psalm 90:10). That witness is indeed true. It was true thirty-three hundred years ago. It is true still.
The universal prevalence of sickness is one of the indirect evidences that the Bible is true. The Bible explains it. The Bible answers the questions about it that will arise in every inquiring mind. No other systems of religion can do this. They all fail here. They are silent. They are confounded. The Bible alone looks the subject in the face. It boldly proclaims the fact that man is a fallen creature, and with equal boldness it proclaims a vast remedial system to meet his wants. I feel compelled to the conclusion that the Bible is from God. Christianity is a revelation from heaven. “Your word is truth” (John 17:17).
2. General Benefits That Sickness Confers on Mankind
I use that word benefits advisedly. I believe it is profoundly important 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 — an issue 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 is able to prevent pain and disease — but he does not. How can these things be?” Such is the reasoning that often comes across the heart of mankind.
I know the suffering and pain that sickness entails. I admit the misery and wretchedness it often brings in its train. 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 and women’s souls. If man had never sinned, I should have been at a loss to discern the benefit of sickness. But since sin is in the world, I can see that sickness is a good. It is a blessing quite as much as a curse. It is a rough schoolmaster, I grant. But it is a real friend to mankind’s soul.
Sickness helps remind people of death. Most people live as if they were never going to die. They follow business, pleasure, politics, or science — as if earth were their eternal home. They plan and scheme for the future, like the rich fool in the parable, as if they have a long lease on life and are not tenants at will. A heavy illness sometimes goes far to dispel these delusions. It awakens people from their daydreams and reminds them that they have to die as well as to live. Now this, I say emphatically, is a mighty good.
Sickness helps make people think seriously about God and their souls and the world to come. Most people in their days of health can find no time for such thoughts. They dislike them. They put them away. They consider them to be troublesome and disagreeable. Now, a severe disease sometimes possesses a wonderful power to muster and rally these thoughts and place them before the eyes of a person’s soul. Even a wicked king like Ben-Hadad, when he was sick, could think of Elisha (2 Kings 8:8). Even pagan sailors, when death was in sight, were afraid — and each cried to his own god (Jonah 1:5). Surely anything that helps make people think is a good.
Sickness helps soften people’s hearts and teach them wisdom. The natural heart is as hard as a stone. It can see no good in anything that is not of this life and can imagine no happiness except as found in this world. A long illness sometimes goes far to correct these ideas. It exposes the emptiness and hollowness of what the world calls “good” things and teaches us to hold everything with a loose hand. The businessperson finds that money alone is not everything the heart requires. Those who love the world find that costly apparel, the reading of novels, and the glamour of parties and operas are miserable comforters in a sickroom. Surely anything that obliges us to alter the way we evaluate earthly things is a real good.
Sickness helps level and humble us. We are all naturally proud and high-minded. Few, even among the poor, 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 people.” A sickbed is a mighty tamer of such thoughts as these. It forces on us the mighty truth that we are all poor worms, 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 who will soon stand side by side at the bar 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.
Finally, sickness helps test people’s religion to find out what kind it is. There are not many on earth who have no religion at all. Yet few have a religion that can bear inspection. Most are content with traditions received from their ancestors and can render no reason for the hope that they have. Now disease is sometimes profoundly useful to a person in exposing the utter worthlessness of their soul’s foundation. It often shows them that they have nothing solid under their feet and nothing firm in their hand. It makes them realize that, although they may have had a form of religion, they have been worshiping “an unknown god” all their life. Surely anything that makes us discover the real character of our faith is a good.
We have no right to grumble about sickness and be discouraged about its presence in the world. We ought rather to thank God for it. It is God’s witness. It is the soul’s adviser. It is an awakener 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 help and not an injury, a gain and not a loss, a friend and not a foe to mankind. As long as we have a world wherein there is sin, it is a mercy that it is a world wherein there is sickness.
3. Special Duties to Which the Prevalence of Sickness Calls Us
I would be remiss to leave the subject of sickness without saying something on this point. I hold it to be of utmost importance that I am not content with generalities in delivering God’s message to souls. I am eager to impress on each one into whose hands this paper may fall their own personal responsibility in connection with the subject. In no way do I want anyone to finish this paper without being able to answer the questions, “What practical lesson have I learned? In a world of disease and death, what ought I to do?”
The prevalence of sickness calls us to always live in such a way that we are prepared to meet God. Sickness brings to the forefront of our minds the reality of death. Death is the door through which we must all pass to judgment. Judgment is the time when we must at last see God face-to-face. Surely the first lesson the inhabitant of a sick and dying world should learn is to prepare to meet his or her God.
I believe that this, and nothing less than this, is preparedness to meet God. Pardon of sin and equipped to be in God’s presence, justification by faith and sanctification of the heart, the blood of Christ sprinkled on us and the Spirit of Christ dwelling in us — these are the grand essentials of the Christian religion. These are no mere words and names to furnish bones of contention for wrangling 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 I press deep into your soul.
The prevalence of sickness calls us to always live in such a way that we will bear it patiently. Sickness is no doubt a trying thing to flesh and blood. To feel our nerves unstrung and our natural strength declining, to be obliged to sit still and be cut off from all our usual avocations, to see our plans broken off and our purposes disappointed, to endure long hours and days and nights of weariness and pain — all this is a severe strain on our sinful human nature. No wonder irritability and impatience are brought out by disease! Surely in such a dying world as this we should practice patience.
The prevalence of sickness calls us to always be ready to feel with and help our fellow human beings. Sickness is never very far from us. Few are the families who don’t have some relative who battles sickness. Few are the parishes in which you won’t find someone who is ill. But wherever there is sickness, there is a call to duty. A little timely assistance in some cases and a kindly visit in others, a friendly inquiry and a simple expression of compassion — these may do a vast good. These are the sort of things that soften rough edges, bring people together, and promote good feelings. These are ways by which you may ultimately lead people to Christ and save their souls. These are good deeds every professing Christian should be ready to do. In a world full of sickness and disease, we ought to “carry each other’s burdens” and “be kind and compassionate to one another” (Galatians 6:2; Ephesians 4:32). If you can live in a sick and dying world and not feel for others, you have much yet to learn.
Practical Application
And now I conclude with four words of practical application. I want the subject of this paper to be turned to some spiritual use. My heart’s desire, and my prayer to God, is that it will do good to souls.
1. As God’s ambassador, I direct a question to all who read this paper, and I urge them to pay serious attention to it. It is a question that grows naturally out of the subject on which I have been writing. It is a question that concerns all — of every rank, class, and condition. I ask you, What will you do when you are ill? The time will come when you, as well as others, must go down the dark valley of the shadow of death. The hour will come when you, like your ancestors, must become sick and die. The time may be near or far off. God only knows. But whenever that time may be, I ask again, What are you going to do? Where will you turn for comfort? On what will you rest your soul? On what will you build your hope? Where will you find your solace?
2. I offer counsel to all who feel they need it and are willing to take it, to all who feel they are not yet prepared to meet God. That counsel is short and simple. Acquaint yourself with the Lord Jesus Christ without delay. Repent, be converted, flee to Christ, and be saved. You either have a soul or you don’t. You will surely never deny that you have one. So then, if you have a soul, seek that soul’s salvation. Of all the gambling in the world, there is none as reckless as that of the person who lives in such a way that they are not prepared to meet God and who yet puts off repentance. You either have sins or you don’t. If you have (and who dares to deny it?), let go of those sins, throw away your transgressions, turn away from them without delay. Either you need a Savior or you do not.
Vague, indefinite, and indistinct religion may do very well in time of health. It will never do in the day of sickness. A mere formal, perfunctory church membership may carry a person through the sunshine of youth and prosperity. It will break down entirely when death is in sight. Nothing will do then but real heart union with Christ. Christ interceding for us at God’s right hand, Christ known and believed as our priest, our physician, our friend — Christ alone can rob death of its sting and enable us to face sickness without fear. He alone can deliver those who through fear of death are in bondage. I say to everyone who wants advice — be acquainted with Christ. If ever you would desire to have hope and comfort on the bed of sickness, be acquainted with Christ. Seek Christ. Draw near to Christ.
3. I exhort all true Christians who read this paper to remember how much they may glorify God in the time of sickness, and to be willing to lie quietly in God’s hand when they are ill. I urge all sick believers to remember that they may honor God as much by patient suffering as by active work. It often shows more grace to sit still than it does to roam to and fro and perform great exploits. I beg them to remember that Christ cares for them as much when they are sick as he does when they are well, and that the very admonishing they feel so acutely is sent in love and not in anger.
Above all, I urge them to recall the compassion of Jesus for all his weak members. They are always tenderly cared for by him, but never so much as in their time of need. Jesus has had profound personal experience with sickness. He knows the heart of a sick person. He saw “every disease and sickness” (Matthew 10:1) when he was on earth. He was drawn especially to the sick in the days of his flesh. He still feels a special bond to them today. Sickness and suffering, I often think, make believers more like their Lord in experience than health does. “He took up our infirmities and bore our diseases” (Matthew 8:17). The Lord Jesus was a “man of suffering, and familiar with pain” (Isaiah 53:3). None have such an opportunity of learning the mind of a suffering Savior as suffering disciples.
4. I conclude with a word of exhortation to all believers, which I heartily pray that God will impress on their souls. I implore you to keep up a habit of close communion with Christ and to never be afraid of going too far in your religion. Remember this if you wish to have “great peace” in your times of sickness (Psalm 119:165). If you and I want to be “greatly encouraged” in our time of need, we must not be content with a bare union with Christ (Hebrews 6:18). We must seek to know something of heartfelt, experimental communion with him. Never, never let us forget that union is one thing, and communion another. Thousands, I fear, who know what union with Christ is know nothing of communion.
The day may come when, after a long fight with disease, we will feel that medicine can do no more and that nothing remains but to die. Friends will be standing by, unable to help us. Hearing, eyesight, even the power of prayer, will be fast failing us. The world and its shadows will be melting beneath our feet. Eternity, with its realities, will be looming large before our minds. What will support us in that trying hour? What will enable us to feel, “I will fear no evil” (Psalm 23:4)? Nothing, nothing can do it but close communion with Christ. Christ dwelling in our hearts by faith, Christ putting his right arm under our heads, Christ felt to be sitting by our side — Christ can alone give us the complete victory in the last struggle.
Let us cling to Christ more closely, love him more heartily, live to him more thoroughly, copy him more exactly, confess him more boldly, follow him more fully. Religion like this will always bring its own reward. Worldly people may laugh at it. Weak brothers and sisters may think it extreme. But it will wear well. As evening comes, it will bring us light. In sickness, it will bring us peace. In the world to come, it will give us “the crown of glory that will never fade away” (1 Peter 5:4).
In the meantime, let us live a life of faith in the Son of God. Let us lean all our weight on Christ and rejoice in the thought that he lives forever. Yes, blessed be God! Christ lives, though we may die. Christ lives, though friends and families are carried to the grave. He lives “who has destroyed death and has brought life and immortality to light through the gospel” (2 Timothy 1:10). He lives who said, “I will deliver this people from the power of the grave; I will redeem them from death” (Hosea 13:14). He lives who will one day “transform our lowly bodies so that they will be like his glorious body” (Philippians 3:21). In sickness and in health, in life and in death, let us lean confidently on him. Surely we ought to say daily with those of old, “Blessed be God for Jesus Christ!”
* This essay on sickness written by J. C. Ryle has been abridged and minimally updated into the language of our day to increase its usefulness for modern readers. Scripture quotations are taken from the New International Version. This essay is in the public domain.