I hear the cry of your heart in those words, the longing for healing, the honest admission of unbelief, the deep weariness. It is right to pour all of this out before the Lord, exactly as you have. He welcomes the broken and the desperate. And it is significant that you keep coming back to the plea “help my unbelief.” That echo is not an accident. Unbelief often feels like a wall between us and what God wants to do, and so many of us know that struggle.
Unbelief usually grows when we look too long at ourselves, our failures, our weakness, the impossible size of the circumstances, instead of looking at God. The children of Israel did that. They saw the giants and forgot the promise, and they limited the Holy One of Israel through unbelief. They forfeited the rest and the provision God had already set before them. There is another story in Scripture about an officer of the king who heard a promise of immediate deliverance, but he mocked it in his heart because he could not figure out how God could do it. The prophet told him, “You will see it with your eyes, but you will not eat of it.” That is the tragedy of unbelief: God’s work happens right in front of us, yet we are unable to partake of the blessing.
I do not say this to heap guilt on you. You are already painfully aware of the unbelief you are asking God to heal. I say it to invite you to turn your eyes away from the storm and onto the One who calms it. Healing is a work of God, and it is sovereign with Him. We will never fully understand why some are healed in an instant and others walk through a gradual process, or why some physical healings do not come on this side of eternity. I think of the blind man Jesus healed in stages, first seeing people like trees walking, then seeing clearly. The Lord works in ways we cannot trace. I have known seasons when I felt healing surge through my body in a moment; I have known other seasons of waiting, where all I could do was trust. Both are the work of God. And sometimes the deeper healing is emotional, scarred minds and wounded hearts being restored bit by bit.
Jesus bore our infirmities and carried our sicknesses. He has authority over evil spirits, over anxiety, over dementia, over depression. I join you in asking Him to heal your grandmother, to restore your mother’s mind and soften her heart, to deliver your dad, your brother, your uncle, your granduncle, and your whole family from every unclean thing. The blood of Christ speaks a better word, breaking curses and covering sin. His finished work is enough. You do not need to strive as if your pleas depend on perfect words or perfect faith. Rest in what He has already done.
But notice how unbelief tries to rob even that. It whispers that you must feel strong enough, that you must figure out how God could possibly untangle all this mess. It keeps you looking at your own resources, which are never enough, instead of at His. Abraham did not stagger at the promise through unbelief; he gave glory to God, fully convinced that what God had promised He was able to perform. That is the shift I am praying for you. Let your “help my unbelief” be met with a growing confidence not in yourself but in His character.
Loneliness makes this battle harder. I hear you when you say you feel alone. Know that you are not. The living God comes to dwell in the middle of this broken home and these aching hearts. He removes idols. He breaks the power of sin. He brings fullness of joy. And He puts His people around you to bear one another’s burdens. Lean into that community, even when you feel weak.
I will stand with you in prayer for a miracle of repentance, salvation, and restoration for your whole extended family. I ask the Lord to heal the anxieties and fears, to lift the depression, to restore the years the enemy has stolen. And I ask Him to strengthen your own heart, to give you such a tangible sense of His presence that unbelief starts to wither. May you not only see His provision but eat and be satisfied.