Silas
Beloved of All
I am joining you in this cry for your son. The pain you carry for him is not hidden from the Father, and you have done the best thing you could ever do by bringing him straight to the throne of grace.
When nightmares from trauma invade the night, sleep feels like a battleground instead of a gift. Yet our Shepherd never slumbers, and He often gives a deep, quiet sleep to those who are most weary. I have seen seasons where the Lord caused a heavy stillness to fall upon a desperate mind, not as an accident, but as a shield. While your son sleeps, the same God who stood at the top of Jacob’s ladder is standing guard over him. The angels you asked for are not distant symbols; they are ministering spirits sent on assignment.
Healing from wounds like these is often more like the slow, steady growth Jesus described, first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn. A gradual healing is no less divine than an instant one. The Lord formed the very processes of restoration inside our minds and bodies, and He can work through them even while your son rests. Sometimes we wake up and feel the edge of terror has been dulled, or a memory has lost some of its sting. That is His doing. I have personally experienced a moment when I went to bed so ill I could barely lift my head, and in the quiet hours God touched me so that I woke up completely well. That kind of sudden healing is marvelous, but we must never despise the day of small things. The slow, quiet work of His Spirit in the night is just as precious.
While he sleeps, the Word of God can be a lamp that talks to his heart. You could speak or sing a simple promise over him before he closes his eyes: “I will both lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” That seed of truth, planted in the dark soil of his struggle, will not return empty. He might not perceive it immediately, but growth is happening beneath the surface. First a little rest, then a little more, then a night where the nightmare loosens its grip. The enemy of his soul wants to steal sleep and use it for evil, but the Lord delights in turning that very sleep into a place of restoration.
Do not lose heart if the full victory tarry. Our Lord Jesus healed many people, but even He did not follow a single formula, sometimes a touch, sometimes a word from a distance, sometimes a gradual restoration that required going home and finding it done. He is no less present with your son tonight. He was comfortable with the broken and the distressed, and He does not scorn this slow, difficult healing. The Prince of Peace can calm the storm within as definitely as He calmed the sea, even if the surface still feels choppy for a while.
Hold to this: the same God who caused a deep sleep to fall on an army so that one man could pass through unharmed is more than able to shield your son’s mind as he lies down. His angels encamp around those who fear Him. And while your son cannot fight the shadows by his own strength, the true Shepherd has lain down in the opening of the pen, nothing can get to him except over the Shepherd’s own presence.
May the Lord fill his dreams with quiet pastures, and may you both wake to a growing sense that, though the healing may be gradual, it is sure. I am praying with you for that very thing.
When nightmares from trauma invade the night, sleep feels like a battleground instead of a gift. Yet our Shepherd never slumbers, and He often gives a deep, quiet sleep to those who are most weary. I have seen seasons where the Lord caused a heavy stillness to fall upon a desperate mind, not as an accident, but as a shield. While your son sleeps, the same God who stood at the top of Jacob’s ladder is standing guard over him. The angels you asked for are not distant symbols; they are ministering spirits sent on assignment.
Healing from wounds like these is often more like the slow, steady growth Jesus described, first the blade, then the ear, then the full corn. A gradual healing is no less divine than an instant one. The Lord formed the very processes of restoration inside our minds and bodies, and He can work through them even while your son rests. Sometimes we wake up and feel the edge of terror has been dulled, or a memory has lost some of its sting. That is His doing. I have personally experienced a moment when I went to bed so ill I could barely lift my head, and in the quiet hours God touched me so that I woke up completely well. That kind of sudden healing is marvelous, but we must never despise the day of small things. The slow, quiet work of His Spirit in the night is just as precious.
While he sleeps, the Word of God can be a lamp that talks to his heart. You could speak or sing a simple promise over him before he closes his eyes: “I will both lie down and sleep in peace, for You alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.” That seed of truth, planted in the dark soil of his struggle, will not return empty. He might not perceive it immediately, but growth is happening beneath the surface. First a little rest, then a little more, then a night where the nightmare loosens its grip. The enemy of his soul wants to steal sleep and use it for evil, but the Lord delights in turning that very sleep into a place of restoration.
Do not lose heart if the full victory tarry. Our Lord Jesus healed many people, but even He did not follow a single formula, sometimes a touch, sometimes a word from a distance, sometimes a gradual restoration that required going home and finding it done. He is no less present with your son tonight. He was comfortable with the broken and the distressed, and He does not scorn this slow, difficult healing. The Prince of Peace can calm the storm within as definitely as He calmed the sea, even if the surface still feels choppy for a while.
Hold to this: the same God who caused a deep sleep to fall on an army so that one man could pass through unharmed is more than able to shield your son’s mind as he lies down. His angels encamp around those who fear Him. And while your son cannot fight the shadows by his own strength, the true Shepherd has lain down in the opening of the pen, nothing can get to him except over the Shepherd’s own presence.
May the Lord fill his dreams with quiet pastures, and may you both wake to a growing sense that, though the healing may be gradual, it is sure. I am praying with you for that very thing.
