You are keeping a long and weary vigil, I know. When the mind of one you love is tossed and troubled, and when sleep, that gentle healer, seems to have fled, the hours of the night can feel very long indeed. Before I say another word, let me mention a practical thing. If your son should ever be in a place of immediate danger to himself, do not delay; reach out to your local emergency services at once. And if you need someone to speak with in a dark moment, you will find a helpline for your country at
findahelpline.com. Ask for the help that is near at hand; the Lord uses means.
Now, let me sit with you a while beside this heavy bed of care.
You have asked your heavenly Father for healing, for the casting out of a spirit of psychosis, and for the blessing of peaceful sleep. And you have asked it in Jesus’ name. That is no small thing. That name is the key that opens the King’s own treasury. There is a power in Christ that is chiefly a power to heal, it was so when He walked among us, and it is so still. The Physician who never lost a patient has not forgotten your son. When you look at your dear boy and see his mind tangled and frightened, remember that the One who made the mind can unsnarl it with a word. Our Lord never appears more glorious than in the eyes of those who are brought low; their very distress becomes a window through which they shall see His salvation.
I want you to think for a moment about sleep. Oh, what a mercy sleep is! God does not give it only to the noble or the clever; it is His own common, precious gift, more healing than all the potions in the apothecary’s shop. Yet for a troubled mind, sleep does not come easily. That is why the psalmist sang, “So he giveth his beloved sleep.” It is a gift that must come from His own hand, and it is His delight to give it. When you ask your Father to bless your son with peaceful slumber, you are asking for what He loves to bestow. The Good Shepherd makes His sheep lie down in green pastures; He does not drive them to their rest, but He Himself gives it. I think of the moment on the sea when Christ stood in the boat and said to the howling wind and the rearing waves, “Peace, be still.” And immediately there was a great calm. That same voice can speak to the wild storm in a man’s mind, and it, too, will hush and be still.
You used that strong word: “cast out.” It is a right word, for our battle is not with flesh and blood alone. But here is your comfort: Christ has already bound the strong man. He has met every dark power and disarmed it. The power that is present to heal is greater than any power that afflicts. When a poor paralyzed man was let down through the roof to Jesus, the Lord saw not merely the helpless limbs but the deeper malady of sin, and He began with the root: “Son, your sins are forgiven you.” Then came the healing of the body. So our wise Savior often works: He goes straight to the core. Your son is far more than his affliction; he is a soul for whom Christ died. Entrust that soul again to the One who said, “Him that cometh to me I will in no wise cast out.” He will not cast out a trembling sinner, but He will surely cast out every foul thing that torments him.
In the silence of the night, when you listen at his door and hear no sound of rest, do not let your heart sink. Remember those disciples who slept for sorrow while their Master agonized. Even the most beloved of the Lord were overcome by weariness of heart, yet He did not cast them off; He gently roused them and drew them near again. Your own spirit may be willing but your flesh weak. Lean hard upon the arm that never tires. The Lord gives His beloved sleep, and sometimes He bids us, as it were, to lie down in the dark and trust a Father’s hand to cover us. He knows the watching mother’s tears. He caught them once in a bottle, and He is no less tender now.
Think also of the morning coming. Scripture speaks of death itself as a sleep for those who die in Christ, a deep and restful slumber from which they shall one day awake satisfied, seeing His likeness. If the Lord can make that last great sleep so full of hope, shall He not mend the broken sleep of His ailing child now? He is the same Lord of the waking and the sleeping hours. The tree of life stands on either side of the river, its leaves unfailing every season of the year. There are leaves there for the healing of the mind, for the quieting of the spirit, for the calming of every terror. You and your son are not shut out from that tree; its fruit is for the healing of the nations, and for this one small, trembling soul as much as for all the rest.
So do not shoulder this burden as though you carried it alone. You have laid it at the feet of Jesus, leave it there. Do not take it up again to examine it and weigh it and wonder. Every time you pray, you are setting the case before the best Advocate. He who knows the mind of your son better than any physician knows it, He who counts the hairs of his head, shall speak the word, and in His time, perhaps little by little, perhaps all at once, the clouds shall roll back and a sound mind shall shine out again.
Let us pray together now.
Our Father in heaven, we bring this troubled son to Thee. Thou givest Thy beloved sleep; give it now to this dear one. Speak Thy great “Peace, be still” over the wild waves of his mind. Cast out every dark thing that afflicts him, and let a quiet, ordered spirit return. In the night season, be his shield. In the daytime, be his light. Comfort this mother’s heart with the sure hope that the Good Shepherd carries this lamb close to His breast. We ask nothing less than full healing, body, soul, and spirit, knowing that nothing is too hard for Thee. And to Thee, O Jesus, who art mighty to save, we entrust this precious life, now and always. Amen.