Letter 123: You were to have come to see me (and the blessing was drawing near) to cool me, aflame in my temptations, with the tip of your finger. What then? My sins stood in the way and hindered your start, so that I am sick without a remedy.

Dear Urbicius, You were supposed to come visit me — I was so close to that blessing — to bring even a drop of relief to someone burning up with troubles. But what happened? My sins got in the way and kept you from setting out, so here I am, sick with no cure in sight. My troubles are like waves: one crashes down, another rises up, and a third looms dark on the horizon. Some have passed, some are here now, and more are coming. The only practical solution anyone can see is to give in to the pressure and get away from the people making my life difficult. But please — come to me. Come to comfort me, to give me advice, or even just to travel with me as I go. Even seeing your face will do me good. Above all, pray for me. Pray that my mind isn't swallowed by these waves of trouble. Pray that through all of it I keep my heart right before God — that I don't become the kind of ungrateful servant who thanks his master when things go well but refuses to accept correction when things go badly. Let me actually grow from these trials, trusting God most when I need him most. [Context: Basil wrote this around age 34, during a period of intense personal and ecclesiastical conflict in Caesarea, the capital of Cappadocia in modern central Turkey. He had recently returned from monastic life and was being drawn into church politics against his will. The "persecutors" likely refers to Arian-sympathizing church officials who opposed his orthodox theology.]

ST. BASIL OF CAESAREA To Urbicius, the monk. You were to have come to see me (and the blessing was drawing near) to cool me, aflame in my temptations, with the tip of your finger. What then? My sins stood in the way and hindered your start, so that I am sick without a remedy. Just as when the waves are round us, one sinks and another rises, and another looms black and dreadful, so of my troubles: some have ceased, some are with me, some are before me. As is generally the case, the one remedy for these troubles is to yield to the crisis and withdraw from my persecutors. Yet come to me, to console, to advise, or even to travel with me; in any case you will make me better for the mere sight of you. Above all, pray, and pray again, that my reason be not whelmed by the waves of my troubles; pray that all through I may keep a heart pleasing to God, that I be not numbered with the wicked servants, who thank a master when he gives them good, and refuse to submit when he chastises them by adversity; but let me reap benefit from my very trials, trusting most in God when I need Him most. About this page Source. Translated by Blomfield Jackson. From Nicene and Post-Nicene Fathers, Second Series, Vol. 8. Edited by Philip Schaff and Henry Wace. (Buffalo, NY: Christian Literature Publishing Co., 1895.) Revised and edited for New Advent by Kevin Knight. <https://www.newadvent.org/fathers/3202123.htm>. Contact information. The editor of New Advent is Kevin Knight. My email address is feedback732 at newadvent.org. (To help fight spam, this address might change occasionally.) Regrettably, I can't reply to every letter, but I greatly appreciate your feedback — especially notifications about typographical errors and inappropriate ads.