Your prayer reaches deep into the heart of our compassionate Lord. He knows what it is to look upon suffering and be moved to the core, just as He wept at the grave of Lazarus not because He lacked power but because He saw the grief and pain that sin has unleashed in this world. Every ache, every moment of discomfort, every confusing symptom you describe did not escape His notice. He feels it with you, and He is not indifferent.
You have cried out for healing, and that is right. Jesus Himself taught us to ask, to seek, to knock. He healed multitudes during His ministry, instantly, gradually, by a word, or by a touch. Sometimes He would send someone home and the healing would meet them on the way. He is not limited by patterns, and we can never fully map out why one person receives an instant miracle while another walks a long road of recovery or learns to live with a thorn in the flesh. The apostle Paul, who had seen extraordinary healings through aprons taken from his body, gave his own dear son in the faith Timothy practical counsel for his frequent ailments rather than a divine word of immediate cure. That was not a failure of faith or a lack of love; it was a reminder that God’s purposes run deeper than our present comfort.
So I do not offer you a simple formula. What I see in your words is a fierce faith that already clings to the only One who can truly save. That is precious. There is a mark of greater faith that hangs onto God when the pain does not lift quickly, when the body groans for deliverance. You know that you are sealed by the blood of Jesus, and no spiritual force can override that seal. The enemy may whisper curses, but they are rendered empty at the cross. You are safe in His hand, whether you feel it or not.
Remember that all healing, whether it comes in a split second or through the steady processes God built into nature, is divine. Even the skill of doctors and the effectiveness of medication flow from His common grace. You have asked for creative miracles for your mouth, jaw, nerves, and every affected part. He is able to do that, and He often surprises us with the impossible. But I also want you to hold this truth close: our ultimate hope is not a perfected body in this age but a resurrection body in the age to come. One day, in His presence, there will be no more death, no more sorrow, no more pain. The former things will pass away. Until then, we groan inwardly, and He invites us to bring that groaning to Him.
Bring every ache, every frustrated nerve, every fearful thought about hospitals or strokes, and lay it before Him in prayer. Do not carry needless pain by forgetting that you can cast it all onto Him. Sometimes, as you linger there in praise just as you have done in your request, He takes the sharp edge off the suffering and grants peace that surpasses understanding. He may not always remove the illness, but He will strengthen you to endure and even to shine with His joy in the midst of it.
So keep praising, keep thanking Him in advance, but let your trust rest not on a particular outcome but on His perfect love. Whether He heals you instantly, gradually, or gives you the grace to walk through each day with a clearer head and a steadier heart, He is working for your good. And you are never alone. The One who bore our griefs and carried our sorrows walks with you through every moment of pain, and one day He will make all things new. Press into that hope, lean on Him for daily strength, and let your soul prosper in the peace that comes from being held by the Christ who strengthens you for all things.