Great multitudes followed him, and he healed them all. — Matt 12:15
What a mass of hideous sickness must have thrust itself under the eye of Jesus! Yet we do not read that He was disgusted but patiently waited on every case. What a striking variety of diseases must have met at His feet! What sickening ulcers and putrefying sores! Yet He was ready for every new shape of the monster evil, and was victor over it in every form. Let the arrow fly from what quarter it might, He quenched its fiery power. The heat of fever, or the cold of dropsy; the lethargy of palsy, or the rage of madness; the filth of leprosy, or the darkness of blindness—all knew the power of His Word, and fled at His command. In every corner of the field He was triumphant over evil, and received the homage of delivered captives. He came, He saw, He conquered everywhere.
It is even so this morning. Whatever my own case may be—the beloved Physician can heal me. And whatever may be the state of others whom I may remember at this moment in prayer, I may have hope in Jesus that He will be able to heal them of their sins.
My child, my friend, my dearest one, I can have hope for each, for all, when I remember the healing power of my Lord; and on my own account, however severe my struggle with sins and infirmities, I may yet be of good cheer. He who on earth walked the hospitals, still dispenses His grace, and works wonders among the sons of men—let me go to Him at once in right earnest. Let me praise Him, this morning, as I remember how He wrought His spiritual cures, which bring Him most renown. It was by taking upon Himself our sicknesses. “By His stripes we are healed.” The Church on earth is full of souls healed by our beloved Physician; and the inhabitants of heaven itself confess that “He healed them all.” Come, then, my soul, publish abroad the virtue of His grace, and let it be “to the Lord for a name, for an everlasting sign which shall not be cut off.”
Jesus saith unto him, Rise, take up thy bed, and walk. — John 5:8
Like many others, the impotent man had been waiting for a miracle to be wrought, and a sign to be given. Wearily did he watch the pool but no angel came—or came not for him. Yet, thinking it to be his only chance, he waited still, and knew not that there was One near him whose word could heal him in a moment.
Many are in the same plight—they are waiting for some singular emotion, remarkable impression, or celestial vision; they wait in vain and watch for nothing. Even supposing that, in a few cases, remarkable signs are seen—yet these are rare, and no man has a right to look for them in his own case.
It is a very sad reflection that tens of thousands are now waiting in the use of means, and ordinances, and vows, and resolutions, and have so waited in vain, utterly in vain. Meanwhile these poor souls forget the present Savior, who bids them look unto Him and be saved. He could heal them at once but they prefer to wait for an angel and a miracle. To trust Him is the sure way to every blessing, and He is worthy of the most implicit confidence; but unbelief makes them prefer the cold porches of Bethesda to the warm bosom of His love.
O that the Lord may turn His eye upon the multitudes who are in this case tonight; may He forgive the slights which they put upon His divine power, and call them by that sweet constraining voice, to rise from the bed of despair, and in the energy of faith take up their bed and walk. O Lord, hear our prayer for all such at this calm hour of sunset, and before the day breaks—may they look and live. Dear reader, is there anything in this portion for you?
Morning and Evening - May 7
Public domain content taken from Morning and Evening by Charles H. Spurgeon.