Jeremy Taylor (1613–1667) was an Anglican priest and later bishop whose devotional writings combined theological learning, poetic imagination, and practical concern for Christian living. His ministry unfolded amid civil war and imprisonment. During these unsettled years, he published his wildly popular spiritual classics, Holy Living (1650) and Holy Dying (1651).

Holy Dying grew from pastoral relationships and personal acquaintance with grief. Its central conviction is that preparation for death belongs to the years of health: the habits we cultivate throughout life help sustain us when illness leaves us weak. In chapter 3 of that work (summarized below), Taylor brings a combination of challenge and compassion to the spiritual struggles of sickness.

Illness can unsettle much of what modern Western Christians take for granted: independence, productivity, comfort, and the ability to plan our lives. In chapter 3 of Holy Dying, Jeremy Taylor identifies two principal temptations that accompany sickness: impatience and fear of death. His remedies invite us to trust God, receive care, and practice faithfulness within the limits illness imposes. Underlying his counsel is the conviction that Christ’s victory over death makes even sickness a possible occasion of grace.

The first temptation is impatience. Taylor begins with a compassionate observation: healthy people often demand too much composure from those who are sick. Tears, groans, complaints, and cries for help are compatible with patience. People experience pain differently, and outward calm is an unreliable measure of spiritual maturity. A suffering Christian need not put on a cheerful performance to reassure everyone else.

Taylor is concerned with three ways suffering can strain our relationships with God and others:

  • Despair undermines hope in God’s goodness. His remedy is to keep reaching toward God through prayer, spiritual counsel, and whatever practices of faith remain possible. Applied today, this might mean asking a pastor to visit or allowing a friend to pray when we cannot find words ourselves. Hope can seek recovery while also trusting God beyond recovery.
  • Murmuring hardens into resentment against God’s rule. Taylor distinguishes this from honest expressions of pain. His remedy is humble surrender: acknowledging our dependence, remembering God’s wisdom, and continuing to give thanks. For people accustomed to managing outcomes, this means learning to entrust God with what we cannot control.
  • Peevishness turns distress against caregivers. Taylor urges cooperation with physicians and gentleness toward those attending us. Today, that includes communicating our needs clearly, receiving help, thanking caregivers, and seeking forgiveness when frustration becomes harshness.

Taylor offers several practices that support this patience. Attend to the present moment instead of trying to endure an imagined lifetime of suffering all at once. Remember God’s past mercies. Notice occasions for gratitude. Meditate on Jesus’ suffering and ask for strength to follow him.

He also sees illness as a setting in which faith, humility, hope, and love can mature. Weakness exposes our dependence and can loosen the hold of pride, ambition, and resentment. For Christians who measure usefulness by output, this is a searching invitation: receiving care, forgiving someone, or trusting God through an interrupted day can become meaningful acts of discipleship.

Taylor frequently interprets suffering as God’s fatherly correction and calls for repentance. A careful contemporary application preserves that invitation to honest self-examination without claiming to know that a particular diagnosis resulted from a particular sin. He also warns against postponing spiritual growth until serious illness: sickness can leave us with very little strength for the work we have delayed.

The second temptation is fear of death. Here too Taylor makes an essential qualification: “I do not say it is a sin to be afraid of death.” He points to Jesus’ agony and prayers in Gethsemane. His concern is fear that overwhelms faithfulness or makes preserving life an absolute demand.

His remedies address both our attachments and our hopes:

  • Hold earthly gifts with a lighter grasp. Wealth, appearance, strength, reputation, and achievement become sources of bondage when we cannot imagine life’s goodness beyond them. Taylor asks us to practice gratitude without making continued possession a condition of trusting God.
  • Cultivate a positive hope of life with Christ. Christian hope includes communion with God and his people, freedom from sin and sorrow, and resurrection. Giving attention to these promises can enlarge our imagination beyond everything illness threatens to take away.
  • Entrust unfinished work to God. There will always be another project, family milestone, or ministry responsibility. Taylor reminds us that God’s purposes can continue through others. We can make responsible provision for those we love while surrendering the belief that everything depends on our remaining here.
  • Prepare honestly for death. Taylor urges readers to put their affairs in order, provide for dependents, address matters of conscience, and receive pastoral care and Communion. Modern applications include preparing a will, having necessary conversations, and seeking reconciliation. Such preparation can accompany prayer and treatment for recovery.

Near the chapter’s close, Taylor offers especially tender counsel for those whose energy and concentration are failing: prayer can become the form that faithfulness takes. It may be expressed through a thought, a groan, or a movement of the hand or eyes.

When we cannot work, serve, read, or sustain our usual devotions, we can still turn toward God. Taylor invites us to bring him the strength we actually have—even when that strength amounts to a wordless plea for mercy.