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Is anyone among you sick? Then he must call for the elders of the church and they are to pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord; and the prayer offered in faith will restore the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up. – James 5:14-15
Let’s be honest: few things feel less “spiritual” than blowing your nose for the 47th time in an hour. You’re in sweatpants that have seen better days, your hair is doing something Old Testament-prophet-like, and your main prayer is, “Lord, please don’t let anyone from church see me like this.”
So what do we do with that when we’ve got the common cold, the flu, or whatever new bug is making the rounds
Let’s walk through it—with a bit of humor, but also with real hope.
First, the obvious: Christians get sick.
We get colds. We get the flu. We get migraines, random back pain, mysterious “I think I slept funny” injuries, and the occasional stomach bug that makes us question all our life choices…or at least our dinner choices.
Being a Christian doesn’t mean you get a heavenly immune system upgrade.
It means:
• Our bodies are still part of a broken world.
• We still deal with weakness and limitation.
• We still need naps.
Sometimes we act like if we were just “more spiritual,” we wouldn’t get sick as often. As if vitamins are for the faithless and hand sanitizer is a sign of weak theology.
Newsflash: Jesus touched lepers, but you should still wash your hands.
James says, “Is anyone among you sick? Let him call for the elders of the church…”
Right away, notice a few things:
It’s okay to admit you’re sick.
James doesn’t say, “Is anyone among you coughing? Pretend you’re fine and say you’re blessed and highly favored.” He says: if you’re sick, say so.
You’re invited to reach out, not just tough it out.
“Let him call for the elders.” That implies you don’t have to suffer in silence. You don’t have to pretend you’re above needing prayer.
The church’s leaders are supposed to care enough to show up and pray.
Not in a showy, dramatic way, but in a simple, loving, “we’re with you” way.
James 5 is not saying:
“If you don’t get instantly healed, you clearly messed up the prayer script.”
It is saying:
“When you’re weak, God wants you to experience His presence and the care of His people.”
James adds: “Let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord.”
The oil here seems to be a physical sign—something simple and tangible to go along with prayer. Nothing magical. Olive oil is not the fourth member of the Trinity.
Think of it as a way of saying, “We are setting you apart to God’s care.”
A reminder that every square inch of your life, including your health, is under God’s attention.
A sign that the church isn’t just about sermons and potlucks, but also about showing up in our weakness.
So:
• If your elders anoint with oil and pray—great.
• If they just pray without oil—also great.
• If someone tries to dump a Costco-sized jug of oil over your head—that might be a conversation.
The point isn’t the method; it’s the dependence. We bring sickness to God because He is near, He is good, and He cares.
James says, “And the prayer of faith will save the one who is sick, and the Lord will raise him up.”
This is strong language. It pushes us to believe that prayer actually matters, that God really can and does heal.
But we need to avoid two extremes:
“If I just believe hard enough, God has to do what I want.”
That’s not prayer—that’s trying to manage God.
“God will do whatever He was going to do anyway, so why bother praying?”
That’s not faith—that’s resignation dressed up in theology.
Biblically, prayer is real participation in what God is doing. Sometimes He heals quickly. Sometimes slowly. Sometimes in ways we don’t see yet. And ultimately, for every believer, there will be a final, complete healing in resurrection.
In the meantime, when God doesn’t heal immediately, it does not mean:
• Your faith was too small.
• You forgot the magic phrase.
• You should’ve used organic, extra-virgin oil.
It means you are still walking in a fallen world where God’s kingdom has come, but not yet in fullness. Faith is trusting Him in both health and sickness.
So, what does all this look like on a Tuesday when your throat feels like sandpaper?
Here are some simple, down-to-earth steps:
• Be honest. People, making a positive confession is not the same thing as telling a lie. If you’re sick, you’re sick. Believing that God will heal you? Good. Telling people you are not sick when you are? Bad.
• Pray simply: “Lord, I’m weak. Would you heal me? Help me rest. Use even this to draw me closer to You.”
• Ask for prayer from other godly people. This is the most important part of James 5.
• Receive care without guilt.
• Let someone drop off soup. Let people cover a responsibility you had at church. That’s not failure; that’s the body of Christ working like it should.
• Take your meds. Drink water. Stay home when you’re contagious. You can love your neighbor by not sharing your germs.
So next time you’re sick, don’t just count the hours until the cold passes. Let it become a little reminder:
• You are not in control.
• You are not alone.
And you are deeply, stubbornly, faithfully loved—even with Old Testament bedhead and a runny nose.