Your prayer has gone up to the Father, for healing, for the easing of this grinding stress, for liberty from the grip of anxiety, and you sealed it in Jesus’ name. That name is the key that opens every door of mercy. So be sure of this: your asking has been heard, and the answer is already on its way. It may not appear in the form you expect, but your Lord never mislays the cries of His children.
Think of your body as a little vessel on the sea. The waves of pain and weariness slap against the hull, and the wind of stress howls through the rigging. You feel every lurch and shudder. But the danger to the ship is never the water that is outside, however wild the tempest, the danger is when it gets inside. So our Lord says to you right now, “Let not your heart be troubled.” The outside troubles may rage, but if the inside is kept calm by His Spirit, you will not sink. He holds the helm; He commands the wind. The very hand that once touched the fevered brow of Peter’s mother and lifted her up to health is the hand that holds you now. Your body is not beyond His mending, and your mind is not beyond His stilling.
I know the stress feels like a weight that never lifts, and the anxiety like a fog that thickens before your face so you cannot see tomorrow. It is no small thing. But here is a word for you: when Israel came up out of Egypt, the Lord brought them forth with silver and gold, and not one feeble person stumbled among their tribes. Their deliverance not only freed them, it enriched them and made them strong. So will He do for you. The very pains that now bow you low will become, in the end, strange instruments to bring you greater grace. He wastes no sorrow; He will heal your body and your soul and make you a gainer by the trial.
I would have you look away from the tempest to the Tree that grows on either side of the river of Life, its leaves are for healing. Christ is that Tree. Every promise in His book is a leaf you may pluck and press to your wound. There is no fever of soul those leaves cannot cool, no fret of mind they cannot soothe. Have you ever noticed how a father, when his child is frightened in the dark, does not scold but simply puts out his hand and says, “I am here”? This is what your heavenly Father does in Christ. He does not break the bruised reed or quench the smoking flax. You have come to Him, and He has drawn near to you. The very fact that you could whisper that prayer shows His hand is already upon you.
Do not let unbelief have the last word. When anxious thoughts bubble up like a foul spring, do not give them a tongue. Rather, speak to your own soul: “Why are you cast down? Hope in God.” The Lord who began a good work in you will be faithful to perform it until the day of Christ. He who delivered you from the power of darkness will not now abandon you to a lesser tyrant. Your healing may come by degrees, like the dawn that first paints the sky grey and then gold, but it will come.
So rest, dear soul, in the Lord’s keeping. The love-letter may arrive in an envelope with a black border, but inside is written only affection. The storm will pass, the morning will break, and you shall yet stand and declare the works of the Lord.
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Father of mercies, I commend this dear one into Your hands, hands that were pierced and are therefore full of tenderness. Touch their body with Your restoring power, quiet their spirit with Your perfect peace, and lift the heavy mantle of anxiety from their shoulders, so that they may breathe freely again. Let them know, deep in their bones, that they are hidden in Christ, and that nothing can separate them from Your love. And as they walk through this valley, make the shadows to retreat before the light of Your countenance, until they come forth with singing. In the name of Jesus, our Healer and our Shepherd, Amen.