You have been awake in the night, I think, with your son’s name on your lips and a heaviness that will not lift. It is the way of a parent’s heart, to carry the child’s every bruise, every shadow, every unseen battle, as though it were your own flesh being torn. And the Lord who sees you in that dark room, who bottles your tears, He does not stand aloof. He bends low and He says, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people.” Not merely “preserve them,” not simply “protect them”, though He does that, but comfort. He would have you know He cares for your son’s mind as it is troubled, for his spirit as it is spent. He is not content with keeping him breathing; He aims at him being whole and glad again.
Picture your son just now. Maybe you see a bruised reed, bent, nearly broken, strength almost gone. The world tramples bruised reeds underfoot; it snaps them and casts them aside. But Christ does not. The prophet says of Him, “A bruised reed shall he not break.” Not that He ignores the bruise, but He handles it with such gentleness that it mends in His grasp. He knows exactly where the fracture lies, the mental weariness, the spiritual fraying at the edges, and He applies His healing hand with the care of one who has known sorrow Himself. You need not fear that your son is too broken for His notice. The bent reed draws the Redeemer’s eye; it is His specialty to bind up.
And what of that other picture, smoking flax? That is the soul in which the flame of life and faith and peace has almost gone out, so that only a smouldering wisp of vapour remains. You look at your son and you can hardly see the glow you once knew. But Christ does not quench it. He cups His hand around it, breathes gently upon it, not a harsh blast that would scatter the sparks, but the soft movement of His own Spirit, until the flame catches again. He is not impatient with weakness. The physician who made the ear and the eye does not growl at the ache He means to heal.
You have asked the Father to surround your son with His presence and peace. And that is exactly the promise. It is not that the fire will never be lit, but that in the fire there will be a companion. One like unto the Son of God walks with our children in their furnaces, not always visible, not always quenching the flame before it comes, but never absent. The Father’s hand closes over your son in the dark. And that hand is so broad and so strong that though the storm beats on the house, the child within the hollow of it is still and safe. You may not hear the lullaby, but it is being sung.
I know your thoughts run ahead to the future, to dangers seen and unseen, and they claw at your peace. But here is a thing to hold: our Lord Jesus knows the end from the beginning, and He who began to knit your son together in the womb will not leave the work half-done. He does not bring a child onto the sea only to let him drown. He knew this storm would come, and He has not miscalculated. The boat may pitch, the waves may climb high, but the same voice that said to the sea “Peace, be still” will speak when the time is right. Until then, you may rest in the love that will not let him go.
Let us not be shy of believing this. Your son’s affliction, every part of it, the body that aches, the mind that struggles, the spirit that feels so dry, is known to the One who counts the stars and calls them all by name. He knows the pain intimately, and He has comfort for it that the world cannot give. The potion the world offers numbs for an hour; Christ’s comfort is living water, and it springs up inside a person into everlasting peace. Entreat Him for it without ceasing, and expect Him to be as good as His word.
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O Lord, our healer and our shield, we bring this beloved son before You now. You see the places where he is bent and bruised, and You know the smouldering wick that flickers in his breast. Touch him with that hand which stilled the fever and raised the dead. Quiet the clamour in his mind; say peace to the tumult in his heart; let Your Spirit move over the chaos of his inward world and bring light and order and rest. Put a hedge of Your own presence round about him, that no evil seen or unseen may lodge against his soul. Be his hiding place. And for this dear parent who carries the burden with him, gather them into the comfort of Your everlasting arms, steady their faith, and give them sleep, in Jesus’ name. Amen.
Prayer Focus: God, Thank You for loving me. Thank You for loving me, Jesus. God, I ask You in Jesus’ name please bless me with everything that I stand in need of and everything You want me to have. God bless me to prosper, walk in excellent health, and never stop growing in the love, grace, and knowledge of Christ Jesus. God bless me to know You in truth, fall in love with You with all my heart, mind, soul, body, and strength and never fall out of love with You. Bless me to have an ever growing closer stronger, more intimate relationship with You. Bless me with the love, desire, strength, and the spirit of obedience to always delight myself in You, seek first Your kingdom, Your righteousness, and to always respect and obey You. Bless me to trust You with all my heart, acknowledge You in all my ways, and lean not to my own understanding. Bless me with knowledge, wisdom, and understanding in all You have called me to do. 
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