You sit with a weight on your heart, carrying two names before the throne of grace, your mother, your father. The mind runs over the list: diabetes, this cruel infection in the lungs, failing eyesight, the aching head, the swelling feet, the blood that will not stay steady in the veins. It feels like a great heap of trouble, and you wonder how to pray, where even to begin. Let me tell you something very simple. You do not need to sort it all out before you bring it. The Father knows each part of it better than you do, and He has numbered the hairs on their heads as surely as He numbers the stars. When we were small, we did not understand the doctor’s words, but we trusted the hand that held ours in the waiting room. You are holding on now. That is enough.
Think of this: the same Lord who spread the heavens and fixed the foundations of the earth is, to you and to those you love, a Father. Not a distant governor, not a cold judge, but a Father. Our Saviour taught us to pray, “Our Father,” and He did not lend us that word lightly. A father bends low to hear his child’s whisper. A father does not scorn the little troubles that seem so big to the little one. And if He is our Father, then the sickbed is not a place of wrath but a place where He draws near. I know we are tempted to think that love is only in Christ, while the Father keeps His distance in stern majesty. But the Scripture sets that straight. The tender mercies of the Son are the mirror of the Father’s heart, not a contrast to it. The Father Himself loves you with an everlasting love, and when you cry to Him for your parents, you are not tugging at a reluctant sleeve. You are appealing to the very fountain of all compassion.
You worry for your mother, that her strength should ebb, that this infection in her lungs should take hold. Sickness can seem like a dark pit with no water in it, a place of confinement and heavy air. But the covenant of grace has a word for prisoners. The blood of Jesus Christ speaks for those who cannot speak for themselves. When I think of blood, I remember that Abel’s blood cried out from the ground for justice, and it was heard. But we have a better sacrifice; the blood of Jesus speaks better things than that. It does not cry for vengeance, but for mercy, for cleansing, for healing in its time. That blood has sealed your mother, if she belongs to Christ, and marked her as one whom the Lord will pass over in the day of trouble with a hand of pity, not destruction. So you may rest your heart; the voice that pleads for her is not your own wavering prayer alone, but the strong, prevailing voice of the Redeemer’s own life given for her.
You long for your father’s eyesight to clear, for the headaches to lift, for his whole frame to be restored. I see how love makes your eyes quick to notice every pang and swell. It is right that you bring all this to God; the little things are not little to love. But here is a deep comfort: if God is your Father, then He is also their Father, and they are not orphans. I have read that in the old law, God made careful provision for the widow and the fatherless, and He set aside a portion of the land’s increase for those who had no other defender. Your father is not fatherless before heaven; his cause is before the Lord. The same God who commands the blood to flow true and the organs to do their work is watching over him. And if his sight grows dim, yet the light of God’s countenance can be brighter than any earthly sun. Do not fear that he will be forgotten. The everlasting Father does not cast off those who are the work of His hands.
Perhaps you feel small and helpless in the face of so many ailments. Good. That is the best posture for receiving grace. The Father hides these things from the wise and prudent, and reveals them unto babes. The babe does not prescribe to the physician, nor dictate to the parent. The babe simply rests in the arms that carry it. So you, in all your anxiety, can say, “Even so, Father, for it seemed good in Your sight.” This is not a cold resignation, but a warm, childlike trust that His will is better than our fears. He is the Lord of heaven and earth, and He does all things well. When He permits an aching head or weary limbs, He is not absent. He is there in the night watches, as a mother sits by a cradle. You may not see the purpose, but you know the Person. And He is good.
I do not ask you to ignore the pain or pretend it is not real. I only ask you to let it drive you closer to Him who was wounded for our transgressions and bruised for our iniquities. He knows what physical suffering is; He has worn our frail flesh. And in that flesh He offered up prayers and supplications with strong crying and tears unto Him that was able to save Him from death, and He was heard. So your prayers for your parents, even those that are only groans too deep for words, are wrapped up in His intercession and carried to the throne with acceptance.
Be of good courage. The love of God to His dear Son covers all believers as a great canopy covers all who come beneath it. As the morning sun pours out its golden light and gilds the whole landscape, so the Father’s love to Christ streams down on all who are in Him. Your mother, your father, if they are sheltered there, are bathed in that same light. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without Him; not a hair whitens without His note. How much more will He care for these, made in His image, purchased with His Son’s blood?
Now, let us speak no more alone, but turn together to the mercy seat.
Our Father, who art in heaven, we bring before Thee those who are bone of our bone and flesh of our flesh. Look upon this mother; Thou knowest the frame so fearfully and wonderfully made, and how it now labors under disease. Speak the word and let the infection pass; command the healing processes Thou hast built into the body to do their work mightily. Sustain her soul with the cordial of Thy presence. And for the father, Lord, we ask for daily mercies: for the eyes, light; for the head, relief; for the blood and the water of the body, right order and peace. But above all, we ask Thee, Father, to keep them in the hollow of Thine hand, to make Thyself known to them as their exceeding joy, and to bring them at last, with all the redeemed, whole and without spot, into Thy glorious presence. We ask all in the name of Jesus Christ, the Everlasting Father of His people, the Prince of Peace. Amen.