You watch your son, and what you see tears at your heart, strength gone, peace scattered, his whole frame and spirit brought low. And you have done the one thing that true love always does: you have carried him straight to the throne of grace. Do you think the Lord is deaf to such a prayer? The mother who cried, "Lord, help me," received an answer before she could draw another breath. Your cry is no less heard.
When a soul is brought into the presence of Jesus, whether by its own faith or by the faith of those who love it, there is a power present to heal. Not a cold, distant power, but the very life of Christ pressing in where the need is deepest. You ask for healing: physical, mental, spiritual. That is a large request, but it is not too large for the One to whom you pray. His cures never deal with half the man; when He restores, He restores the whole. The body mended, the mind steadied, the spirit set right with God, this is His accustomed work. And where a case seems most tangled, most desperate, He is often nearest, waiting to show what His grace can do.
Renewed strength. I want you to think of strength not as a store laid up within your son, like water in a cistern that can be drained dry, but as a fountain that springs up fresh every moment from God Himself. What comes from ourselves fails, that is its nature. But what God supplies never runs short. The weakest saint, leaning hard upon the Everlasting Arm, has more true strength than the mightiest man who trusts his own sinews. So when you pray for your son's strength to be renewed, you are asking that he be fastened again to the source that never fails, that the life of Christ would flow into His weariness and make him equal to whatever this day holds. That is a prayer God loves to answer, because it gives Him glory.
And peace, restored peace. I know what you mean. It is that deep quiet of soul which remains even when duties press in like a crowd and the mind hardly knows which way to turn. There is a peace that is not the absence of trouble but the presence of a Person. Your son may yet have many things to face, but if he is brought to the place where he can say, "I am doing what Jesus would have me do, and what I cannot do I leave with Him," then peace will settle over his spirit like a bird coming home to its nest. The blood of Jesus whispers peace within, that is a word for every hour of the night, every lonely waking, every fear that rises in the dark. Christ has made full payment for all his sin, and a forgiven man has the root of peace already planted in his heart.
I think of that poor paralyzed man whose four friends carried him to Jesus. He could not stir hand or foot, but he had friends who would not let his helplessness stand in the way. They broke up the roof if need be, and let him down right at the Savior's feet. You are doing that for your son. Your prayers are the hands that carry him. And the first word Jesus spoke to that man was not about his body but about his soul: "Son, your sins are forgiven you." It was as if our Lord would go to the very center of the trouble and begin the cure there, working outward. So take heart. The Great Physician knows exactly where to lay His healing hand upon your son. What you cannot reach, He can. What you cannot mend, He will.
The leaves of the tree of life are for the healing of all that ails us. In the Paradise above there is a medicine for every wound, a balm for every sorrow. But thank God, even now, some of those leaves drift down to us in our pilgrimage. A word of promise, a sense of the Lord's presence, a sudden lifting of the gloom, these are healing leaves. Look for them. Expect them. Your son may not spring up whole in an instant, but the Lord knows how to work gently, quietly, yet with a certainty that cannot fail. The "shall" of His grace is mightier than the "I will" of human pride, mightier than sickness, mightier than despair. If He has purposed to restore, then restore He will, and no power in earth or hell can prevent it.
Do not measure the Lord by what you see. When the sea is stormy and the ship is in deep water, the passenger sees only the waves, but the Captain sees the harbor lights already. Christ holds the chart. Christ steers the vessel. And Christ has promised to bring His own safe to land. Your son is not drifting beyond His reach. The very prayer you prayed is evidence that the Shepherd is seeking this sheep.
Let us ask Him now to finish what He has begun.
Lord Jesus, we bring before You this precious son, worn in body, weary in mind, and needing the peace that only You can give. You know every hidden ache, every silent fear, every battle that rages where no eye can see. Stretch out Your hand and touch him. Let Your healing life flow into every part of him, body, mind, and spirit. Renew his strength like the eagle's; restore the peace that has been stolen away. And give this dear parent the sweet comfort of seeing Your goodness in the land of the living. For Your own name's sake, amen.