Strains of the Season: Sickness
Last winter, my family experienced about eight weeks of consecutive sickness. Each family member took turns with a variety of symptoms for a variety of illnesses, with maybe a couple days’ reprieve here and there. Not only was it eight weeks of sniffles, sneezes, upset tummies, and temperatures, but it was also eight weeks of missed church, missed work, missed playdates, missed date nights for me and my husband, missed hours of sleep, and a missing sense of joy and peace. These eight weeks also overlapped with the holiday season; traditions and festivities were delayed, altered, or skipped altogether, and supplements were purchased alongside stocking stuffers. While so much Christ-centered truth surrounded me—the nativity scenes, the spirit of generosity, the carols full of rich lyrics—I felt very few “thrills of hope” and a dwindling sense of “joy to the world” as I wiped another nose and poured another cup of ginger ale.
Created to Need
Sick days—whether our own or for those in our care—have a tendency to remind us acutely of our neediness—our bodily needs, our social needs, our spiritual and emotional needs. We were created needy. Jen Wilkin says, “In pre-fall Eden, Adam and Eve were created to need. Even before the fateful plucking of the forbidden fruit, they depended on God for the breath in their lungs, for the food in their bellies, for water, land, and light. They had needs, both physical and spiritual, before sin ever slithered into the picture. God created them needy, that in their need, they might turn to the Source of all that is needful, acknowledge their need, and worship."[1]
Effects of the Fall
This neediness is both how we can worship but also how we can sin. Sin slithered into the garden through the temptation to be like God—independent, all-sufficient, lacking nothing. Like Adam and Eve, we regularly live as though we don’t need God. We can subtly start to lean on our own health, resources, and independence, forgetting that it is God himself who holds all things together.[2] As part of the fall, sick days can snap us back to reality: we are, in fact, weak, needy people.
Whether we’re dealing with our own sickness or those in our care, we can be tempted to be irritable, anxious, self-pitying, discontent, impatient, etc. as we put aside our plans and desires to care for frail bodies. Sickness reminds us we don’t only need physical healing but a deeper healing of our souls as God sanctifies and refines our attitudes and desires to be more like his. This is the very healing Jesus came to bring and referred to when he says in Mark 2:17: “Those who are well have no need of a physician, but those who are sick. I came not to call the righteous, but sinners.”
Redemption and Healing
Jesus, God in human form, willingly put on our fleshly neediness—without any accompanying sin. He entered the world as a needy baby; he possessed a human body with need for rest and nourishment;[3] he was misunderstood, taken for granted, isolated.[4] He deeply understands the weakness and fragility we feel when our bodies suffer or we feel the loneliness of canceled plans and missed time with others. He also understands the burdens of caring for the sick, as those around him pressed in continually for physical and spiritual healing. In the face of all this need, he modeled for us how to rely on the Spirit’s power to lead and sustain him.[5]
Surrounded by need, Christ ultimately chose what Adam could not: a life of humble submission and dependence to the Father’s plan. For each instance where he said “Not my will, but yours, be done” (Luke 22:42), glory occurred—a miracle took place, people’s bodies and souls were healed, and the serpent’s head was crushed. Through his bitter sacrifice on the cross came the sweetest healing for all humanity in the eternal atonement of our sins—our greatest need.
Christ now pours out his Spirit-empowered strength upon us as believers as we depend on him daily—even in our weakness, sickness, and sin. He stands before the throne of God as our help and advocate, never himself taking a sick day from his people. His empowerment is offered to us every day—this very day.
Looking forward in hope
In the face of significant need, physical suffering, and spiritual testing, Job declared: “I know that my Redeemer lives, and at the last he will stand upon the earth. And after my skin has been thus destroyed, yet in my flesh I shall see God, whom I shall see for myself, and my eyes shall behold, and not another. How my heart faints within me!” (Job 19:25-27).
During our own long days or weeks of needing care or caregiving, we can hold tight to this same truth: our Redeemer lives. He lived as God with us in our needs on this earth, he lives victoriously in heaven after death on the cross, and he lives within us today, empowering us for these days full of seemingly unseen, insignificant care.
Instead of being consumed or controlled by the needs or seeming “lacks” in our lives—responding in anger, grumbling, or self-sufficiency—we can instead direct our weary hearts to him who has no need and in whom all needs are met.[6] These sick days are holy ground. They are opportunities for us to say, “Less of my strength, more of the Spirit’s strength at work in me.” We can reflect God’s tender, tireless care as we care for those in need, even if through nothing more than a back rub or a bowl of chicken soup.
And when we are not facing a time of sickness in our home, may we extend the ministry of presence to those around us in our community. If we notice a mom missing from church or have a playdate canceled due to sickness, we can consider reaching out with a text or a meal or an interceding prayer. We can remind them that they are not alone, they do not need to run in their own strength, and they can receive God’s tender care for them through his body of believers. There is a sweet, profound ministry found in simple, continual presence—a part of what Christ incarnated as Emmanuel, “God with us.”
So as we refill the humidifier and schedule a doctor’s appointment yet again, or as we give of ourselves to sick friends and neighbors, may we and those we care for be able to say with Job, “Yet in my flesh, I will see God.” We can see his care now in these times of bodily need, and we will one day see him face to face in glory, as these fragile frames are fully and forever restored.
[1] Jen Wilkin, None Like Him: 10 Ways God is Different From Us (Wheaton, IL: Crossway, 2016), 62.
[2] Acts 17:28
[3] Matt. 8:24; Luke 24:41-43; John 4:6
[4] Matt. 16:22, 26:40; Mark 3:21
[5] Is. 61:1-2; Luke 5:16; John 3:34, 5:19-20, 6:57
[6] Acts 17:22-28
