The cry of a breaking heart reaches the throne of grace, and our Lord Jesus, who notes the sparrow’s fall, hears you. It is no small thing to pour out such desperate pleas for a creature that has become a companion in your pilgrimage, and I would not dismiss it as a trifle. You have laid your burden before the Almighty, and you have done well, for He alone is the Lord of life and the Healer of all maladies, whether in man or beast. The very leaves of the tree of life are for the healing of the nations; how much more, then, is the full supply of His power and wisdom available when you cast yourself upon Him? Not the smallest creature lies beyond the circle of His tender care.
Comfort is what your soul craves, yet comfort alone is not enough; you must also have constancy, that holy resolve to fight on and trust on, even when the visible signs grow darker. The affliction presses down with a weight that would crush the spirit, but the Word of God is your peculiar solace, it quickens the heart even while sorrow lingers. That same Word breathes, “Comfort ye, comfort ye my people,” and I would be unfaithful to my calling if I did not bid you listen to its music. Let not your mind be swept away by the tempest of fear; rather, recollect the miracles of old, where the same Lord who stilled the raging sea also healed every manner of sickness. Is He Master of larger storms and not of this one? You have cried in the name of Jesus; that name is an anchor cast into the deep, holding fast when all else slips.
The waiting until the twenty-seventh day of next month will seem long, but they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength. Strength is not always a sudden infusion; often it comes as time wears on, as you lean hour by hour upon the everlasting arms. You plead for guidance in your decisions, for gentleness as you minister the medicine, and for your little cat to drink and eat again. These are not too small for heaven’s notice. Our High Priest is touched with the feeling of our infirmities, and the omniscience that reads the stars also numbers the hairs of our heads and notes the pains of each living thing He has made. Go forward, therefore, with this confidence: if He sees fit to restore, the healing shall be His gift; if He appoints a different path, His grace shall be your portion, and in the end you shall forget even this misery as waters that pass away, remembering only the deliverance.
I would not have you misread my intent: I do not promise that every shadow will lift, but I point you to the One who is Light, and in whom is no darkness at all. Prayer is your true weapon, and we will join with you now in spirit, pleading that the visit this very day may show improvement, that the bowels be regulated and the thirst quenched, and that the dreaded word “cancer” be found untrue. More than all, we plead that your own soul be quieted and that you know the comfort which the Spirit alone can give, a quickening that strengthens the inner man beyond the reach of any outward decay. Take heart; the case is not beyond the great Physician’s skill. Lay hold upon the hem of His garment, and though you feel your faith is weak, even its trembling touch has power, for the least thing about Christ is healing.