Sunday, July 26, 2026From the news

He Is Not Far Off

In the face of overwhelming illness and the feeling of abandonment, we are reminded that Christ our God, the Physician of our souls and bodies, is always near.

But You, O Lord, be not far from me; O my Strength, hasten to help me!

Psalm 22:19 (LXX 21:20)

When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.

Isaiah 43:2

Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.

Matthew 11:28

My dear ones, as the evening light softens and we gather our thoughts in the quiet of our hearts, we hear of a great weariness from far away. A recent report tells us of our brothers and sisters in Nigeria, where so many are facing the heavy cross of cancer and feel, in their own words, that they are “on their own.” It is a feeling that chills the soul—to face such a profound trial of the body, and to feel that the world has turned its face away, that no help is coming.

This cry of loneliness is not a new one. It is an ancient and holy cry, one that echoes through the Psalms. We hear it from the lips of the Prophet David, who in his own anguish prayed, “But You, O Lord, be not far from me; O my Strength, hasten to help me!” This prayer is not a sign of weak faith; it is the very language of faith itself, an honest lament spoken into the heart of God. It is the same cry our Lord Himself took upon His own lips on the Cross, sanctifying forever the feeling of abandonment, drawing it into His own divine suffering so that no one would ever truly be alone in it again.

When we feel that human hands cannot reach us and human systems fail us, we must remember the promise of God through the Prophet Isaiah: “When you pass through the waters, I will be with you; and through the rivers, they shall not overwhelm you; when you walk through fire you shall not be burned, and the flame shall not consume you.” Illness can feel like a flood or a fire, a force that threatens to consume everything. But the Lord does not promise to keep us from the fire; He promises to be with us *in* the fire. He is Christ the Physician, who does not stand at a distance and prescribe a cure, but who comes to sit with us in our sickness, to touch our wounds, and to share our burden.

And how does He come to us? He comes in the unseen fellowship of His saints. Let us call to mind Saint Nektarios of Aegina, who himself bore the cross of cancer with great patience and prayer. Let us remember Saint Panteleimon the Unmercenary Healer, and Saint Luke the Surgeon, who continue to intercede for all who are sick. They are not distant figures in a book; they are our family in Christ, a great cloud of witnesses surrounding us, praying for us, and assuring us that in the Body of Christ, no member suffers alone. We may feel alone, but we are encompassed by love, both in heaven and on earth, as we too are called to become the hands and heart of Christ for those who suffer around us.

So take heart, all who are weary. The Lord does not turn away from your exhaustion. He sees your labor, He knows your heavy burden, and He extends to you His eternal invitation: “Come to me, all who labor and are heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” This is not a command to simply feel better. It is a gentle summons to place your pain, your fear, and your loneliness into His hands, which were pierced for you. He does not promise a life without struggle, but He promises His own presence as our peace and our rest, a quiet harbor in the midst of the storm.