Isaiah 33:24

NO SICKNESS THERE

Isaiah 33:24. And the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.

In a besieged city, from watching, anxiety, and scarcity of food, there is usually considerable sickness. When an epidemic disease is prevalent, sickness becomes the general experience. There is in any large population always a considerable amount of sickness, more or less serious. Nor is it confined to the city. In the country it is much the same. At the best it is only somewhat less. Medical men are everywhere required. Sanitary arrangements, temperate habits, and medical skill may diminish the extent and alleviate the severity of sickness, but they cannot uproot it. When, therefore, we read of a city in which there shall be no sickness, our thoughts turn from earth to heaven. The text is a beautifully poetic representation of the termination of the conscious weakness that rested on Jerusalem while the Assyrian army lay before it. But there is a sense in which the words may be literally understood. We believe in “the holy city, the new Jerusalem.” Let us meditate on that new condition of our life.

I. Sickness is weakness. We give the name to all states of the body other than sound and perfect health. How numerous! Our condition here is one of constant liability to it. At every period of life we are exposed to it. It may be borne to us by the air we breathe; taken with the food we eat and the water we drink; received by contact with our fellows; lurk secretly in some part of our body unsuspected; develop itself from the slight cold, the result of carelessness, or in spite of the utmost thoughtfulness; it may attack the youth as well as the old man, those who boast the fulness of their strength as well as those who know themselves to be less firmly built. But it always supposes weakness. Under the name of weakness it holds its victim with a firm grasp. While he persuades himself that he has conquered, it secretly spreads through every vein, and eventually lays him prostrate. The strongest man becomes powerless when sickness holds him in its grasp. As he is too weak to throw off the weakness, he is too weak to perform the tasks which at other times he performs with perfect ease. The student, the mechanic, the merchant. Visit some sick-bed and your confidence of perpetual strength will depart. Sickness is humiliating because it is weakening. It is often attended with pain. Pain increases weakness. In the grasp of pain the sufferer may be held for days, with no power of resistance, no prospect of relief.

Have you not sometimes thought what a contrast it would be if you could be entirely free from sickness and from liability to it? We may indulge the thought. That will be the condition of the resurrection body in the celestial city. It will be fashioned like to the body of Christ’s glory (1 Corinthians 15:42). As Christ on the cross endured the last sickness and pain He was ever to know, so shall all His followers rise, as He did, to a life from which sickness and pain are for ever excluded. Are you one with Him? Then in pain, weariness, languor, sickness, let all impatience be subdued as you remember that it is only a little longer. “Neither shall there be any more pain.”

II. Sickness is sorrow. Sorrow because of lost time and business, fear that the end of life is near, the leaving behind not only all pleasant earthly things and persons, but especially those dependent on the patient’s life, to whom his loss may be ruin. Not to the patient only is it a time of sorrow. Enter the house. All is gloom. Rooms darkened. The family tread softly and speak under their breath, as if every sound would not only disturb the sufferer, but be out of harmony with their own feelings. It is the little one that has come home sick from school (2 Kings 4:19). His mother takes him on her knee. Soon she perceives the signs of one of the sicknesses that are the terror of childhood. Medical aid is procured. The sickness deepens. Every one watches with aching heart, for the child is a universal favourite. And if he is taken, oh, what distress! Or it is the young man who has grown to maturity. He is active in business. His father, under the burden of advancing years, is gradually devolving responsibility on him, that he may himself enjoy a few years’ rest after a life of hard and anxious work. But sickness comes. It passes by those you would expect it to strike. It singles out the young and strong. Gradually that fine young man wastes away. Day and night the mother, whose advancing years and infirmities demand the attention, watches over him with a breaking heart. All is done that strong affection can inspire. It is vain. Oh! what sorrow through these months! And when the end comes, what tongue can describe the agony?

We wonder if it will ever cease to be true that “man was made to mourn.” Thank God we can entertain the prospect of the complete cessation of sorrow. “Neither sorrow.” “Sorrow and sighing shall flee away.” “God shall wipe away all tears from their eyes.” For “the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.”

III. Sickness is the prelude to death. It usually precedes. Any sickness may end in it. Death changes everything: the body different; the soul different. But there shall be no more death. There will be the perpetuated life of paradise regained; for there will be the tree of life; there will be the resurrection body (1 Corinthians 15:53).

IV. Sickness, sorrow, and death are the fruit of sin. Does not Scripture thus trace them? There was no sickness before sin. Sin was the seed. The heavenly city is free from sin. There is perfect holiness. It is the completion of the redeeming work of Christ from sin, sorrow, death. The seed which bears sickness is taken out of the soil.

Shall we dwell in that city of immortal health? Are we travelling towards it? If not, we cannot reach it. Jesus is the way. Come to Him (Revelation 21:27). It is a prepared place for a prepared people.—J. Rawlinson.

RECOVERY FROM SICKNESS
(Sermon to the Young.)

Isaiah 33:24. And the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.

Our sun-dial is not that of Hezekiah: its shadow has no backward movement; the last enemy must soon challenge the traveller to pay the tax imposed on his pilgrimage. When all the pains and illnesses of the flesh are over, there remaineth a place purchased, prepared, and furnished for the children of God, and in which “the inhabitant shall not say, I am sick.” Where is this healthy spot? Not in any place in this country; not in the world of which our land is so favoured a portion. To be able always to say, “I am not sick,” is one of the privileges of heaven alone.
I. THE EVILS AND DISAGREEABLES OF SICKNESS.
Sickness is certainly not a pleasant thing—necessary, profitable, if you please, but not pleasant. It cannot be pleasant; for it is the punishment for sin. Angels are never sick, because they are of that world of which the inhabitant shall not say, “I am sick.” Sickness helps to crumble us into death; diseases are Death’s servants. Death sends them out in their different liveries as his couriers and forerunners; they apprise sinners that their Master is coming into their country, passing by that way, will perhaps “stand at their door and knock,” warning each to be ready to leave all and follow death, as Peter said he and his fellow-apostles had done for Christ (H. E. I. 1561).

1. Bodily pain often accompanies sickness. This is sometimes felt in so grievous and dreadful a degree that the sufferer wishes and prays for death to be relieved from his agonies. When David was tried in this way he said, “The pains of hell gat hold upon me”—a strong expression, meaning very excruciating pains. Who can tell but those who have felt them what sufferings belong to the burning fever, the tormenting headache, &c.? The curious machine is out of order; the wheels grind and grate against each other; “the harp with a thousand strings is out of tune and full of discords.” The very means taken for recovery often, for a time at least, increase pain and suffering. We admire the wisdom which God has given to man to discover the healing virtues concealed in Nature’s works. But most of these, excellent in their effects, are nauseous to the taste. It seems as if Providence had ordained this on purpose that everything should conspire in sickness to make it a suffering, uncomfortable time, in order the more deeply to impress on us the salutary lessons it is intended to teach us.
2. The interruption it causes to the active duties of life. Health is the one thing needful, not only to the enjoyment of life, but to the vigorous and successful discharge of its duties.
3. One might mention a third evil, viz., the trouble one gives in sickness to those around us, only you might be ready to cry out, “We cannot allow this to be either a trouble or an evil; what sister or affectionate brother would think this a trouble?” But often the sufferer feels it keenly.

II. THE PROFITS AND ADVANTAGES OF SICKNESS.
Begin by thanking Jesus Christ that sickness is not a punishment and nothing else—not a certainty and foretaste of hell. His sacrifice has taken away its sting; it bears the peaceable fruits of righteousness to them that are exercised thereby. It withdraws us from the world. We follow too hotly and incessantly the things of the world. Some years ago a satire was written upon us called “The World Without Souls,” and the author, without exaggerating, nearly proved that most of us live as if we thought this was really to be the case.

CONCLUSION.—So improve the sickness of earth as to make it the path to the health of heaven. In health often look back to the time of sickness: consider what were then your feelings, your fears, your good resolutions. Have you kept your word? Have you done your part? Is the Great Physician paid? He seeks not gold, but the coin of gratitude, love, and obedience. Every sickness should urge us to secure the country without pain; to win the new heavens and the new earth in which Christ’s redeemed people shall be crowned with unfading youth and unbroken health.—George Clark, M.A.: Sermons, pp. 59–68.