Morning and Evening

August 17, Evening

C. H. Spurgeon · Modern retelling

"This sickness is not unto death." — John 11:4 · KJV

From our Lord's words we learn that there is a limit to sickness. Here is an "unto" within which its final end is restrained, beyond which it cannot go. Lazarus might pass through death, but death was not to be the end of his sickness. In all sickness the Lord says to the waves of pain, "Thus far shall you go, and no further." His fixed purpose is not the destruction but the instruction of His people; wisdom hangs the thermometer at the furnace mouth and regulates the heat. First, the limit is encouragingly comprehensive. The God of providence has set bounds to the time, manner, intensity, repetition, and effects of all our sicknesses: each throb is decreed, each sleepless hour appointed, each relapse ordained, each depression of spirit foreknown, and each sanctifying result eternally purposed. Nothing great or small escapes the ordaining hand of Him who numbers the hairs of our head. Second, the limit is wisely fitted to our strength, to the end designed, and to the grace supplied. Affliction never comes at random — the weight of every stroke of the rod is exactly measured. He who made no mistake in balancing the clouds and marking out the heavens commits no error in measuring the ingredients that make up the medicine of souls; we cannot suffer too much, nor be relieved too late. Third, the limit is tenderly appointed. The knife of the heavenly Surgeon never cuts deeper than is absolutely necessary. "He doth not afflict willingly, nor grieve the children of men." A mother's heart cries, "Spare my child"; but no mother is more compassionate than our gracious God. Considering how hard-mouthed we are, it is a wonder we are not driven with a sharper bit. It is full of consolation to think that He who fixed the bounds of our dwelling has also fixed the bounds of our tribulation.

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