Silas
Beloved
I hear the ache in your request: a longing for joy, for physical strength, for a body that feels whole and balanced again. When you are dealing with ongoing bleeding, hormonal upheaval, and a weariness that goes deeper than bone, it’s easy to feel as if life itself is draining away. You wonder where your strength has gone and whether joy will ever feel real again.
The honest cries in Scripture give us words for this. There was a man who endured such loss and physical torment that he said his grief was heavier than all the sand of the sea. He looked at his own body, broken and failing, and asked, “What is my strength that I should hope? Is my strength the strength of stones, or is my flesh of brass?” He felt his help had been driven far from him, his face was foul with weeping, and the shadow of death seemed to hover over his eyes. He cried out for relief and found none, and even his friends misunderstood his pain. Yet God recorded every groan, and in the end, He brought restoration and vindication. That same God hears you now.
The real battle in seasons like this is not only with the body but with the soul that is tempted to despair. You long for an even balance, for the scales to tip back toward health and vibrancy. It’s not wrong to ask for that. The One who made your body understands its intricate design, He who set the boundaries for the sea and wrapped it in a garment of cloud also formed your inward parts. He knows the ebb and flow of every hormone, every trace of blood. His wisdom and strength are infinite. He can break down and He can build up; He can hold back the waters or send them out. Nothing in your body is beyond His reach.
Do not mistake the length of the trial for a sign that you have been forsaken. The joy of a hypocrite may be brief, but the joy that comes from God outlasts every storm. The enemy will whisper that immediate relief lies somewhere else, that denying the cross of this suffering and grasping for a shortcut is the way to peace. But true relief, deep and lasting, comes as you pour out your tears before the Lord and rest in His timing. He does not cast away the one who clings to Him, even when all visible strength is gone. The end of your own resources is not the end of hope; it is the place where His strength is perfected in your weakness.
Hold on to this: the One who is mighty in strength and wisdom gives right to the poor in spirit. He withdraws not His eyes from the righteous. Right now He sees every moment of discomfort, every anxious thought about what remains out of balance. Bring it all to Him in simple, raw honesty. Ask Him for the strength to endure until the release comes, and for a joy that is anchored not in feeling well but in knowing you are held by the One who will never let you go. He can still cause the widow’s heart to sing for joy, and He can restore your heart’s song as well.
I am praying with you that the traces of bleeding cease, that your hormones settle into God’s designed order, and that you are filled again with energy and gladness. More than that, I am asking Him to let you sense His nearness in the waiting, so that even before the answer fully arrives, you might taste the joy of His presence as your sustaining strength. He is with you. You are not alone.
The honest cries in Scripture give us words for this. There was a man who endured such loss and physical torment that he said his grief was heavier than all the sand of the sea. He looked at his own body, broken and failing, and asked, “What is my strength that I should hope? Is my strength the strength of stones, or is my flesh of brass?” He felt his help had been driven far from him, his face was foul with weeping, and the shadow of death seemed to hover over his eyes. He cried out for relief and found none, and even his friends misunderstood his pain. Yet God recorded every groan, and in the end, He brought restoration and vindication. That same God hears you now.
The real battle in seasons like this is not only with the body but with the soul that is tempted to despair. You long for an even balance, for the scales to tip back toward health and vibrancy. It’s not wrong to ask for that. The One who made your body understands its intricate design, He who set the boundaries for the sea and wrapped it in a garment of cloud also formed your inward parts. He knows the ebb and flow of every hormone, every trace of blood. His wisdom and strength are infinite. He can break down and He can build up; He can hold back the waters or send them out. Nothing in your body is beyond His reach.
Do not mistake the length of the trial for a sign that you have been forsaken. The joy of a hypocrite may be brief, but the joy that comes from God outlasts every storm. The enemy will whisper that immediate relief lies somewhere else, that denying the cross of this suffering and grasping for a shortcut is the way to peace. But true relief, deep and lasting, comes as you pour out your tears before the Lord and rest in His timing. He does not cast away the one who clings to Him, even when all visible strength is gone. The end of your own resources is not the end of hope; it is the place where His strength is perfected in your weakness.
Hold on to this: the One who is mighty in strength and wisdom gives right to the poor in spirit. He withdraws not His eyes from the righteous. Right now He sees every moment of discomfort, every anxious thought about what remains out of balance. Bring it all to Him in simple, raw honesty. Ask Him for the strength to endure until the release comes, and for a joy that is anchored not in feeling well but in knowing you are held by the One who will never let you go. He can still cause the widow’s heart to sing for joy, and He can restore your heart’s song as well.
I am praying with you that the traces of bleeding cease, that your hormones settle into God’s designed order, and that you are filled again with energy and gladness. More than that, I am asking Him to let you sense His nearness in the waiting, so that even before the answer fully arrives, you might taste the joy of His presence as your sustaining strength. He is with you. You are not alone.
