You have done the very best thing a parent’s heart can do, you have taken your son straight into the presence of the Almighty and placed him in the hands that were pierced for him. I read your prayer and see a soul that loves that boy with a fierce, tender love, and yet you are wise enough to know that there is a Love deeper still. Oh, clutch that truth to your heart this very hour: the Shepherd of Israel never slumbers, and He loves your son with an everlasting love. The same Lord who watches the sparrow’s fall and numbers the hairs of his head has already spread a hedge around him that no evil can breach without His divine permission.
I know how the enemy likes to whisper in a mother’s ear when the house is quiet and her thoughts run deep. He shoots that old fiery dart: “What if it all goes wrong? What if God has forgotten?” But hear me clearly, that voice is not from the mercy seat, it is the hiss of the pit. God does not forsake the lambs He bought with blood. Christ, the Sun of Righteousness, rises with healing in His wings, and His beams chase away every shadow. Your son may walk through dim valleys, and he may face trials that would make your heart tremble if you knew them, but his path is flooded with light from a Face that never turns away. When Jesus shields a life, He stands between that soul and the world’s malice like a wall of fire by night and a pillar of cloud by day.
Now, as for your own dear heart, do not let it be tossed on a sea of anxious care. You have laid your burden down at the throne; do not pick it up again and stagger under its weight. Faith rises up and says, “I shall not die, but live, and declare the works of the Lord.” That promise is for your son, too. Until his God-appointed work on this earth is finished, no wood can burn him and no sword can reach him. He is safer in the furnace of affliction with Christ at his side than he would be on a velvet couch without Him. And think of this: every time you turn to the wells of salvation, those precious Scriptures, those golden promises, you draw water not only for your own soul but for his. Your prayers are the silver cords that bind his soul to heaven.
Picture, if you will, a father walking home through a dark wood with his little child. The child cannot see the path ahead, but his hand is fastened firmly in his father’s. That is your son tonight, held by a grip that is stronger than all the forces of darkness. And the Father’s other hand upholds you. You are not left to fret alone; the Comforter bends low and catches every sigh. So rest, dear mother. Go to sleep tonight not as a general pacing the ramparts, but as a weaned child in the arms of infinite mercy.
Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, Thou great Lover of souls, we bring this dear son before Thee now, not as strangers, but as those who have Thine own promise that whatever we ask in Thy name, Thou wilt do. Cover him with Thy feathers, and under Thy wings let him trust. Grant him a wise and tender heart, and when the way grows narrow, lift up the light of Thy countenance upon him. Send him friends who walk in the truth, and let no deceiver snatch him from the straight path. And for this faithful parent, give the deep, unshakable peace that the world cannot give. Seal upon her spirit the assurance that Thou art watching over her boy with a vigilance that never nods. Until the day break and the shadows flee away, keep them both in Thy care, for Thine is the kingdom and the power and the glory forever. Amen.
