When the heart is pulled in two directions at once, toward a mother whose lungs are under assault, and toward a father whose own frame seems to carry a dozen griefs at once, it is no wonder if the soul grows faint within you. You did not ask for a double portion of trial, yet here it is, and the enemy would have you believe it is more than you can bear. But he is a liar from the beginning. The Lord who set you in this household knew full well what He was doing. He has not left you to watch alone.
Picture the Savior stepping into your home as He once stepped into the house where Peter’s wife’s mother lay sick with a fever. He did not stand in the doorway and shout commands from a distance. He drew near, took her by the hand, and lifted her up. That same tender hand is not shortened today. For your mother’s lung, that hidden and delicate place now troubled by fungus, He has both skill and sympathy. He who made the breath of life understands every passage of air and every secret corridor of the body. And for your father, those eyes that dim, that head that throbs, the swelling of his feet, the whole web of his discomfort, the Good Physician does not need to be told. He sees. He counts each ache as though it were His own. And when you have brought them both to Jesus in prayer, you have done the one thing that is truly wise. There is no consultation with Him that is in vain.
Do not let your mind run wild over what tomorrow may bring. You have seen the hand of God before, and yet unbelief creeps in so naturally. Israel saw the sea divide, and then feared they would die of thirst. They drank from the riven rock, and then trembled at the sight of the enemy. We are made of the same dust. But here is the marvel: the Lord does not cast us off for our short memory. Instead, He sometimes allows us to come to the very end of ourselves, all human help failing, all remedies seeming to lose their power, so that He may have a clear platform for His own arm to be revealed. He is cleansing away every false prop, not to destroy you, but to show you that His power needs no supplement.
Lay your parents, then, at His feet. The feet of Jesus are the safest place in all the universe. The man out of whom the legion of devils had been cast sat there, clothed and in his right mind, and not one of those foul spirits dared press upon him again. It was a place of recovery, a place of rest. Bring your mother there, in the quiet of your own heart. Bring your father there, with every symptom named before the throne. And leave them there. You are not required to stand as their savior; you are only asked to sit at Jesus’ feet yourself, and to trust Him for them.
Do you ever think about the blood that speaks? Abel’s blood cried out from the ground for justice, and it reached the ear of the Almighty. But the blood of Jesus speaks something far better, it cries “Father, forgive them,” and it pleads for mercy, for healing, for restoration. That blood has given a voice to your prayers that will not be ignored. It is not your eloquence, nor the strength of your faith, that moves the heart of God, it is the crimson mark upon the doorposts of your life. Because you are in Christ, your parents are covered by that same covenant. Every evil thing that would sweep through the land must pass them by. Not a drop of their suffering falls outside the view of their Redeemer.
Perhaps you are thinking, “But I have prayed, and they are not yet well.” That is the old story, the same that every saint has lived. The missionary Judson, after thirty years of unheard-of hardships in Burmah, came home and was asked to speak. The people expected thrilling tales of adventure, but he simply told them again about the precious Savior, of what He had done, and of what we owe to Him. When they wanted something new, he gave them the most interesting subject in the world, and that subject remains just as potent this very hour. Your parents’ healing, should it tarry, is still in that same faithful hand. And if He sees fit to delay, He has His wise reasons, which you will one day kiss.
Picture for a moment a poor prisoner shut up in a deep, dry pit, no water, no light, no ladder, no hope of climbing out. That is what the soul feels like when conviction of sin first seizes it. But it is also what the body can feel like when sickness closes in like stone walls. Yet the Lord Jesus knows how to let down ropes from the top of that pit. He can send His Spirit like a cool spring breaking through the floor of the dungeon. For your mother’s lungs, He can clear what no medicine can reach. For your father’s swelling feet, remember that the Savior once took a towel and a basin and washed His disciples’ feet, and He does a similar work now. Every day He stoops to cleanse us from the defilement of our pilgrimage. He can touch those swollen limbs with His own pierced hands, and bring a relief that baffles the physicians.
All things of the new creation are of God, even the health that springs up again after desolation, even the quiet sleep that comes after long nights of pain. You are not looking to chance, nor to the mere skill of doctors, but to the Father of lights, with whom there is no variation. He who once brought a hardened infidel to his knees in a cave full of pirates, by the sheer sovereignty of His grace, can certainly turn the tide for your dear parents. Nothing is too hard for Him. The same love that saved your soul is now busy about your family.
So cast the whole weight of it upon the Lord. The Lord Jesus is near, and the hour is not dark to Him. He sees. He loves. He will undertake.
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We bring them now into Your presence, Lord Jesus, every labored breath, every cloudy eye, every throb of pain, every swelling limb. You are the Good Physician, and Your blood speaks better things for these dear ones. We do not know the path, but we know the Pilot. Quiet the heart of this child of Yours, and let peace garrison the soul while You work in Your own time and way. Into Your pierced hands we commit this mother and this father. May the healing that comes from Calvary fall upon that home. Amen.