Silas
Beloved of All
I hear the ache in every word, and I want you to know you are not alone in this. The pain in your shoulder is real, and right now it demands your attention. We bring that to the Lord together, asking for His touch. Some healings come suddenly, like a word spoken and a body restored. Others unfold gradually, as the processes God built into our flesh do their quiet work. Both are divine. Whether He heals you in this moment or over the coming days, your body is not beyond His care. He is the one who fashioned every joint and sinew, and He knows how to mend what is broken. Rest in that while you seek His relief.
But your letter carries a weight far heavier than a wounded shoulder. You are crying out for your family, and the deepest need I sense beneath every name you mentioned is repentance. Not just sorrow over the mess, but real, transforming change. There is a sorrow that comes from feeling the consequences of sin, anxiety, fractured relationships, even physical illness, and it can look very much like tears of remorse. Yet it may be nothing more than grief over a lost blessing, a life that isn’t working. That kind of sorrow, by itself, leads nowhere but death. True godly sorrow works repentance, and repentance always means a change of direction. It stops chasing the world’s approval. It stops trying to perfect the body through surgery while the soul starves. It puts down the love of money and picks up a teachable heart. Without that change, all the sorrow in the world leaves us like Esau, weeping bitter tears not over his sin but over what it cost him. The inheritance was gone, but his heart never turned.
So I join you in praying that the Holy Spirit would bring your daughters and granddaughter to a repentance that bears fruit. The kind that shows up in altered choices, in words spoken differently, in forgiveness extended, in the death of an old way of living. That is what the baptism of repentance pictured long ago, a burial of the former life and a rising to walk in newness. For your younger daughter, may the Lord stop her in her tracks before August, opening her eyes to see that no surgeon’s knife can excise the real source of her stress. For your granddaughter, may the food she rejects become a symbol of the Bread of Life she desperately needs, and may the tightness in her throat give way to the healing that comes when the heart is set right before God. For your older daughter at home, I pray the joy of the Lord would not be a distant concept but a present strength, breaking the power of the miserable words and the disrespect that flows from her own inner pain. Loneliness can indeed lie to us, making us feel punished or forgotten. The truth is, chastening may be grievous for a season, but afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness, and it brings us back into the family. After the discipline, the child sits at the table again, fully part of the household. That is my prayer for your home: that even the hard things would clear the way for genuine unity, where you embrace one another not just as mother and daughter but as sisters in Christ.
The physical toll on their bodies, the missed periods, the thyroid trouble, the feeling of a lump in the throat, these are not random. The body keeps score of a soul at war with God. And yet the prophet told us that the Messiah Himself took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses. His body broken on the tree was for the healing of our whole being, spirit and flesh together. We do not presume to dictate to God whether He must heal every ailment instantly; the thorn in the flesh is a mystery too. But we do know that His power is made perfect in weakness, and that when we turn from sin and embrace His ways, healing often follows in its wake, sometimes quickly, sometimes step by quiet step. I stand with you in faith for that work in your granddaughter and your daughters, for the deliverance from OCD, fear, rejection, and all the deep roots of the past. Those are the very chains Jesus came to shatter.
Your ministry to the homeless, your prayer walks around your street, your cry for revival in your small church, these are not small things. They are the heartbeat of a woman who knows that the family of God must expand. The same Spirit who anointed Jesus to preach good news to the poor and heal the brokenhearted is the Spirit you are asking to move mightily in your midst. Do not let the enemy silence your prayers or your worship because of a sore shoulder. He would love nothing more than to distract you from the battle. Instead, let the pain remind you to lean harder on the One whose government is upon His shoulder.
Finally, you spoke of spouses and loneliness. That longing is not a sign of weak faith. It is a human ache for companionship, and God made us for relationship. I pray He will add to each of you according to His wisdom and timing. In the meantime, may your home become a refuge of peace, a place where the Spirit’s unity binds you together as friends, not just housemates. Let the God who sets the solitary in families begin right there on your own street, in your own living room.
You asked for an outpouring, for chains to break, for deliverance. I agree with you in the mighty name of Jesus. He is faithful. He will do it.
But your letter carries a weight far heavier than a wounded shoulder. You are crying out for your family, and the deepest need I sense beneath every name you mentioned is repentance. Not just sorrow over the mess, but real, transforming change. There is a sorrow that comes from feeling the consequences of sin, anxiety, fractured relationships, even physical illness, and it can look very much like tears of remorse. Yet it may be nothing more than grief over a lost blessing, a life that isn’t working. That kind of sorrow, by itself, leads nowhere but death. True godly sorrow works repentance, and repentance always means a change of direction. It stops chasing the world’s approval. It stops trying to perfect the body through surgery while the soul starves. It puts down the love of money and picks up a teachable heart. Without that change, all the sorrow in the world leaves us like Esau, weeping bitter tears not over his sin but over what it cost him. The inheritance was gone, but his heart never turned.
So I join you in praying that the Holy Spirit would bring your daughters and granddaughter to a repentance that bears fruit. The kind that shows up in altered choices, in words spoken differently, in forgiveness extended, in the death of an old way of living. That is what the baptism of repentance pictured long ago, a burial of the former life and a rising to walk in newness. For your younger daughter, may the Lord stop her in her tracks before August, opening her eyes to see that no surgeon’s knife can excise the real source of her stress. For your granddaughter, may the food she rejects become a symbol of the Bread of Life she desperately needs, and may the tightness in her throat give way to the healing that comes when the heart is set right before God. For your older daughter at home, I pray the joy of the Lord would not be a distant concept but a present strength, breaking the power of the miserable words and the disrespect that flows from her own inner pain. Loneliness can indeed lie to us, making us feel punished or forgotten. The truth is, chastening may be grievous for a season, but afterward it yields the peaceable fruit of righteousness, and it brings us back into the family. After the discipline, the child sits at the table again, fully part of the household. That is my prayer for your home: that even the hard things would clear the way for genuine unity, where you embrace one another not just as mother and daughter but as sisters in Christ.
The physical toll on their bodies, the missed periods, the thyroid trouble, the feeling of a lump in the throat, these are not random. The body keeps score of a soul at war with God. And yet the prophet told us that the Messiah Himself took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses. His body broken on the tree was for the healing of our whole being, spirit and flesh together. We do not presume to dictate to God whether He must heal every ailment instantly; the thorn in the flesh is a mystery too. But we do know that His power is made perfect in weakness, and that when we turn from sin and embrace His ways, healing often follows in its wake, sometimes quickly, sometimes step by quiet step. I stand with you in faith for that work in your granddaughter and your daughters, for the deliverance from OCD, fear, rejection, and all the deep roots of the past. Those are the very chains Jesus came to shatter.
Your ministry to the homeless, your prayer walks around your street, your cry for revival in your small church, these are not small things. They are the heartbeat of a woman who knows that the family of God must expand. The same Spirit who anointed Jesus to preach good news to the poor and heal the brokenhearted is the Spirit you are asking to move mightily in your midst. Do not let the enemy silence your prayers or your worship because of a sore shoulder. He would love nothing more than to distract you from the battle. Instead, let the pain remind you to lean harder on the One whose government is upon His shoulder.
Finally, you spoke of spouses and loneliness. That longing is not a sign of weak faith. It is a human ache for companionship, and God made us for relationship. I pray He will add to each of you according to His wisdom and timing. In the meantime, may your home become a refuge of peace, a place where the Spirit’s unity binds you together as friends, not just housemates. Let the God who sets the solitary in families begin right there on your own street, in your own living room.
You asked for an outpouring, for chains to break, for deliverance. I agree with you in the mighty name of Jesus. He is faithful. He will do it.
