Silas
Beloved of All
The weight you are carrying right now is immense, and the isolation you describe is a deep, grinding pain. It is right to cry out to God from that place. When it feels like everyone has pulled back and you are left utterly alone, the loneliness itself becomes a kind of oppression. You said it well: "It is not good for man to be alone." God himself declared that in the beginning, so he does not dismiss this ache. He knows your exhaustion, your high blood pressure, the menopause, the asthma, the way your body is sounding the alarm because your spirit and soul have been in a long, silent battle. He sees you. You are not invisible to him.
You ask why God would let you go through so much without sending human support. That question has echoed through the hearts of his people for ages. There are seasons when the heavens seem silent, and we feel cast off or forgotten. But what you are doing in this very request is the turning point. You are not denying the pain or pretending to be strong. You are bringing the whole mess to him, the betrayal, the curses spoken over you, the forgiveness you have already offered to those who wounded you so deeply. That forgiveness is a miracle of God’s grace already at work in your heart. It is a healing of the scars and wounds in your soul, even while your body and circumstances still cry out for relief. Do not discount that. Divine healing is not always instant; it often unfolds gradually. Every step of processing this hurt and releasing bitterness is a work of God no less majestic than a physical cure, because he is healing the deepest part of you.
When you pray for miracles and breakthrough, you are asking for what Jesus loves to do, yet he rarely follows a single pattern. Sometimes he spoke a word from a distance. Sometimes he touched the suffering person. One man received his healing in stages, slowly, until his sight was fully restored. This reminds us that there is no formula we must get exactly right to move God’s hand. Above all, beware of any voice that tries to place guilt on you for being sick or that demands a frenzy of emotional effort. God’s ways are beyond finding out. The apostle Paul himself pleaded three times for a thorn in his flesh to be removed, and God’s answer was that his grace was sufficient. That does not mean God wills your sickness, but it shows us that healing is sovereignly in his hands. Our part is to reach out, to trust, and to release our faith like those who simply touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. That touch was a personal point of contact, a moment when passive belief became active, desperate trust. Your prayer today is that kind of reach. You are pressing through the crowd of your own exhaustion.
The lack of support from church, family, and children is a bitter cup. It is painful when those who should see you most clearly seem to overlook you. Yet while you wait for God to send helpers, there is a path through this loneliness that may surprise you. The call on your life now, even in this state, is not to sink into the need for recognition but to find strength in serving. The servant is not above the master. Jesus himself came not to be supported but to minister to others. I understand this may sound impossible when your own tank is empty, but sometimes the very act of looking for someone else who is also isolated and showing them simple kindness becomes the point where your own healing begins. It breaks the cycle of inward pain. It turns depression into praise and fear into hope. You cannot control who notices you at work or at church, but you can ask God to open your eyes to another hurting person who also feels invisible. In lifting them, you step into the kingdom’s great reversal: to be great is to serve.
Do not let the jealousy of others or the curses of your ex-husband define your reality. Jesus never chided the crowds who only sought him for his benefits. He met their needs, and he will meet yours. He bore your infirmities and carried your sicknesses; that is not relegated to spiritual healing alone, but encompasses the whole person. Take your communion with a fresh understanding that the broken body of Christ covers your physical frame as well. Your call for uncommon favor is a humble cry for him to act. Keep asking. Keep resting when you must, as you wisely did this weekend. And as you go into this new week, release your faith in the quiet place, not in a circus of noise but in a simple whisper: "God, I am trusting you for my deliverance. I am not trusting in the support of men or in my own strength to prove myself. I am trusting in you." He is the health of your countenance. He will sustain you, and in his time and his way, he will send what you need, often through channels you cannot yet see.
You ask why God would let you go through so much without sending human support. That question has echoed through the hearts of his people for ages. There are seasons when the heavens seem silent, and we feel cast off or forgotten. But what you are doing in this very request is the turning point. You are not denying the pain or pretending to be strong. You are bringing the whole mess to him, the betrayal, the curses spoken over you, the forgiveness you have already offered to those who wounded you so deeply. That forgiveness is a miracle of God’s grace already at work in your heart. It is a healing of the scars and wounds in your soul, even while your body and circumstances still cry out for relief. Do not discount that. Divine healing is not always instant; it often unfolds gradually. Every step of processing this hurt and releasing bitterness is a work of God no less majestic than a physical cure, because he is healing the deepest part of you.
When you pray for miracles and breakthrough, you are asking for what Jesus loves to do, yet he rarely follows a single pattern. Sometimes he spoke a word from a distance. Sometimes he touched the suffering person. One man received his healing in stages, slowly, until his sight was fully restored. This reminds us that there is no formula we must get exactly right to move God’s hand. Above all, beware of any voice that tries to place guilt on you for being sick or that demands a frenzy of emotional effort. God’s ways are beyond finding out. The apostle Paul himself pleaded three times for a thorn in his flesh to be removed, and God’s answer was that his grace was sufficient. That does not mean God wills your sickness, but it shows us that healing is sovereignly in his hands. Our part is to reach out, to trust, and to release our faith like those who simply touched the hem of Jesus’ garment. That touch was a personal point of contact, a moment when passive belief became active, desperate trust. Your prayer today is that kind of reach. You are pressing through the crowd of your own exhaustion.
The lack of support from church, family, and children is a bitter cup. It is painful when those who should see you most clearly seem to overlook you. Yet while you wait for God to send helpers, there is a path through this loneliness that may surprise you. The call on your life now, even in this state, is not to sink into the need for recognition but to find strength in serving. The servant is not above the master. Jesus himself came not to be supported but to minister to others. I understand this may sound impossible when your own tank is empty, but sometimes the very act of looking for someone else who is also isolated and showing them simple kindness becomes the point where your own healing begins. It breaks the cycle of inward pain. It turns depression into praise and fear into hope. You cannot control who notices you at work or at church, but you can ask God to open your eyes to another hurting person who also feels invisible. In lifting them, you step into the kingdom’s great reversal: to be great is to serve.
Do not let the jealousy of others or the curses of your ex-husband define your reality. Jesus never chided the crowds who only sought him for his benefits. He met their needs, and he will meet yours. He bore your infirmities and carried your sicknesses; that is not relegated to spiritual healing alone, but encompasses the whole person. Take your communion with a fresh understanding that the broken body of Christ covers your physical frame as well. Your call for uncommon favor is a humble cry for him to act. Keep asking. Keep resting when you must, as you wisely did this weekend. And as you go into this new week, release your faith in the quiet place, not in a circus of noise but in a simple whisper: "God, I am trusting you for my deliverance. I am not trusting in the support of men or in my own strength to prove myself. I am trusting in you." He is the health of your countenance. He will sustain you, and in his time and his way, he will send what you need, often through channels you cannot yet see.
