Your prayer rises like incense, and the Lord hears the cry of a mother’s heart. But you plead for a calm so complete that every ripple in your son’s life would be stilled, every habit perfectly ordered, every possible disturbance rebuked and banished forever. Take care, lest in seeking a peace that depends on outward circumstances, you lose the peace that surpasses understanding, the peace that Christ gives, which remains even in the storm.
You command every contrary thing to flee in Jesus’ name, and certainly we must resist the devil. Yet do not imagine that the absence of all struggle is the mark of God’s blessing. The Apostle says, “Let us watch and be sober.” Sobriety is the intensity of watchfulness. When we pray for a smooth path, we risk the sleep of ease. The soul that never contends against anything becomes soft, and the day of trial finds it unprepared. Your son’s very challenges, the rigidity, the agitation, may be the file that sharpens his soul for eternity. God often works more deeply through what we long to be rid of than through what we cling to in comfort.
You ask that he be freed from every torment and sensory distress, and that is a holy desire. But remember that our Lord Himself had no pillow for His head, and in the storm He lay asleep on the cushion, not because the winds were quiet, but because His trust was in the Father. This is the peace you truly want for your son: not the absence of waves, but the presence of Christ in the boat. Pray for that peace to be rooted in him, the peace that stays when the schedule changes, when the meal is not perfect, when the caregiver is not ideal.
You say, “I rebuke all spiritual attacks and command them to flee forever.” That is bold, but test your heart. Does anxiety for your son sometimes become a drunkenness of the soul, a waking sleep filled with fearful dreams? The one who sleeps sees things that are not as though they are. You rehearse every possible setback, every negative habit, until the mind is more fixed on the enemy’s noise than on the Lord’s promise. I say this not to wound, but to rouse you. Pull up these thorns by the roots. Shake off that unquiet slumber. For the suffering depends not on the demons only, but on ourselves: we choose whether we will stand steadfast and unmovable, or whether we will be shaken by every report of trouble.
You long for your son to be healed completely, of ###, of ###, of every infirmity. Cry out for that healing, for nothing is impossible with God. But if the Lord in His wisdom does not remove the thorn, do not be as those who have no hope. The child you love sleeps and is not dead; he is at rest and will rise again. For resurrection is his final lot, and eternal life, and an angel’s portion. What if his healing comes in the age to come, in the twinkling of an eye, when the trumpet sounds? Then his earthly struggle, borne in faith, will be seen as a light momentary affliction preparing for him an eternal weight of glory. Do not let the delay of what you seek consume your joy or your trust in the Giver.
You surround your son with pleas for hedges of protection, for the blood of Christ, for armies of angels. That is right; entrust him to the keeping of Him who never slumbers nor sleeps. But remember that the strongest hedge is the will of God, which often allows His beloved to walk through the fire so that they come forth as gold. When you feel that no prayer is sufficient, recall that the keeper of the prison fell at Paul’s feet, trembling, and asked, “What must I do to be saved?” The earthquake that loosed the chains was not sent for comfort, but for salvation. So may it be in your household: the shaking that unsettles you might be the very means by which God does a deeper work, bringing all to a true and living faith.
Cease, then, from the multitude of anxious words. You have asked; the Lord has heard. Watch, and be sober. Do not demand that your son’s life be without any trouble, but pray that in the trouble he, and you, may learn to say with Christ, “Not my will, but Thine be done.” For to be in the day depends on us: we walk in the light when we trust without seeing, when we believe that He who kept the saints through every trial will keep your son as well.
Lay hold of the hope of the resurrection. Let that hope quiet your heart, so that when the night comes and sleep does not come quickly, you may rest your mind on the Lord’s bounty, saying, “Return to your rest, O my soul, for the Lord has dealt bountifully with you.” God calls it bounty, not deprivation. Your son is a child of the Most High, yes. Then let him be trained by the discipline of the Lord, that he may share His holiness. And you, do not envy those who seem to have no struggle; their ease is often a heavier chain than any disability.
Rise, then, from the feverish watchfulness that is worse than sleep. Commend your son, your daughter, your whole household to the God who knows our frame. Ask not for a life empty of triggers, but for a heart filled with the Holy Spirit. Then, whether the day brings calm or storm, you will find that the peace of Christ rules in your hearts, and you will be able to give thanks in all circumstances. This is the true and unwavering calm: not that nothing disturbs, but that nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord.