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The hymn, Jesus, In Sickness and Pain, was written by Thomas Gullaudet.
Jesus, in sickness and in pain
Be near to succor me.
My sinking spirit still sustain
To Thee I turn, to Thee.
That second line is particularly interesting mostly because “succor” is no longer a commonly used word. It can mean “assistance in time of distress”, “one that affords assistance”, or “to give assistance in time of want, difficulty, or distress”; from the Old French, “secors”, which had the idea of running to the aid of one in distress.
St Mary’s Hospital in Portsmouth, Virginia, is operated by the Sisters of Bon Secors — the Sisters of Good Help. The voice of one of those sisters came over the public address the morning after our second son was born. She was calling everyone in the hospital, patients, nurses, doctors, visitors, to the daily prayer time. I stopped to listen. In the course of her prayer, she thanked the Lord for the new life of William Price Winters. I was hearing my son’s name out loud in public for the first time, and it was part of a prayer of thanksgiving and gratitude. “Secor” or succor”, however you want to say it, has been a special word to me since that day.
Thomas Gullaudet is sometimes confused with his father, Dr. Thomas Hopkins Gullaudet. Both men spent much of their lives bringing succor to deaf people. The younger founded a church, an outreach ministry and a home for deaf people. The elder founded the first school in America for deaf students. They gave themselves to a group of people who would always need help overcoming the obstacles set before them.
Last week I was sick. My head and joints were aching. I had a fever. Yet in the middle of being sick, I had every reason to believe that my sickness would pass and that I would be well in a few days. Mercifully, that assumption seems to be proving to be a safe one.
What about those people for whom the sickness and the pain do not end in a few days or weeks. What about those people who wake up each day of their lives to face their distress, their disease. I have just about enough courage to confront the common — I cannot imagine the fortitude and faith it takes to wake up each day knowing that in all likelihood this will be no better, and maybe worse than the last.
In a similar way, the people whose lives have been devastated by Katrina will need a strength greater than any that I have ever needed. Listening to a phone conversation this week, I heard a son in New Orleans tell his father, who used to live there, what the city looked like now. With every sentence, he told his dad about another building that had been destroyed. Section by section, he took his dad through the city. Each section sounded the same: “nothing left, not much left, gone, everything gone.”
When I have been in sickness and in pain, I have, like so many others, turned to Jesus. His nearness has sustained my sinking spirit. Many of you have experienced this same sustenance.
When I see those who are suffering and hurting in these days, I pray for them the aid that comes from turning to Jesus. When I see those who are bearing burdens that cannot be released, I pray for them the help that comes from Jesus. When I see a sinking spirit, I pray for him or her the sustenance that comes from turning to Christ — that in turning, a great burden will be met with grace sufficient and mercy abounding, and that joy will be discovered and peace found.
Not everyone turns to Jesus and not everyone who turns finds what they are looking for. Christ died especially for these people.
Joy and peace,
Ed
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