You have asked for prayer for your health, and the very repetition of it tells me the weight of it has been upon you for some while. It is no small thing to carry a body that will not serve you as you wish, to feel strength ebbing when the day still has hours to run, or to lie awake and wonder when relief will come. And perhaps you have sometimes wondered too whether the Lord hears, whether your prayers rise any higher than the ceiling. Let me settle that quickly: He does hear, and He is not far off.
Picture that evening in Palestine, when the sun was sinking and the streets of the little town were lined with the sick. They had been carried out on mattresses, every lane and corner turned into a hospital ward. There were moans from those in pain, cries from troubled minds, and the stifling heat of fever hanging over many a sufferer. It was a piteous sight. And into the middle of it all walked Jesus, with tears of pity in His eyes and yet a beaming joy upon His countenance, joy because He was able to bless them. He did not stand at a distance and pronounce a general word. He went among them. He laid His hand on one, and the man leaped up. He spoke to another, and the foul spirit fled. He cast a glance over yonder, and the fever was gone. No case was too hard, no sufferer too far gone. The power of the Lord was present to heal them.
Now that same Jesus is here tonight, where you are. He is just as able to heal as He was then. I do not know in what manner He will work for you, whether by a gradual returning of strength, or by a sudden lifting of the cloud, or by granting you such sweet inward peace that the bodily trouble loses its sting. But I know this: He took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses. He did not merely pity them from afar. He took them up into His own heart and bore them as a man bears a heavy load uphill. He knows what the weight of a weary body is. He knows what pain is. He knows what it is to be stretched upon a cross and feel every nerve cry out. So when you whisper your trouble to Him, you are not speaking to a stranger who cannot understand, you are speaking to One who has worn your flesh and borne your griefs.
Do not think it strange, either, that sickness should visit even those whom the Lord loves. Peter’s house was no stranger to it. The Lord had been doing great things that day, preaching, healing, turning the world upside down, and when He came to Peter’s door, seeking a little rest and refreshment, He found a household in distress. Peter’s wife’s mother lay prostrate with a great fever, burning and helpless. Yet Jesus came where the fever polluted the air. He did not stand outside and send a message. He entered in, and He stood beside her, and He rebuked the fever, and it left her. So I want you to think of your own home, your own room, as a place where Jesus Christ is willing to enter. If the disease has come, the Great Physician has come also.
May I also give you a word that I have often found sweet? Sometimes the Lord deals with the soul first, that the body may follow in due time. You remember the poor man let down through the roof. He was paralyzed, unable to stir hand or foot, and his friends brought him to Jesus with such desperate faith that they tore up the tiles to get him into the presence of the Master. And what did our Lord say to him? He did not at once speak to his limbs. He said, “Son, be of good cheer; your sins are forgiven you.” That was the greater gift first. The root of all our woe was dealt with before the branch of bodily pain. It may be that your present sickness has driven you nearer to the heart of God than you have ever been before. It may be that in the quiet of your convalescence, or in the long watches of a sleepless night, you have heard the voice of Jesus speaking peace to your soul. If so, you have gained more than a whole skin and sound bones could ever give you. The people that dwell where the Lord reigns shall be forgiven their iniquity, and that is a higher note of praise than even the healing of all their diseases.
Yet do not think I am setting aside your bodily need. Far from it. I am only putting it in its right place. Your health matters to your heavenly Father. He who made your frame knows every delicate cord and every intricate vessel, and He does not easily afflict the children of men. When He does permit pain, it is with a purpose of love. “Whom the Lord loves He chastens.” The saintliest souls I have ever known have often been invalids for years, and from their sickbeds have distilled such sweet confidences in God that the whole countryside has been the richer for their testimony. Your sickness is not a sign that God has forgotten you; it may rather be a mark that He is pruning you for greater fruitfulness.
So bring yourself afresh to Him tonight. Simply and quietly tell Him the whole of it. He is not weary of your asking, He delights in the importunity of His children. And when you have poured out your heart, then rest. Rest in the confidence that He has heard you. Leave the matter in His hands, for He knows best when to grant the outward healing and when to give instead the inward grace that makes the body’s weakness a platform for His strength.
Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, You who walked among the sick in the streets of Palestine, come now and walk into this dear soul’s chamber. You see the weariness, the pain, the anxious thoughts that flutter in the silence. Lay Your hand upon them, we pray. Speak the word of healing if it is Your will. But more than that, speak the word of peace. Let them know, deep down where doubts cannot reach, that their sins are forgiven and that their name is graven on Your hands. You have borne our griefs and carried our sorrows, carry this one now. Bear up the fainting spirit. Let the fever of worry break, and let the sweet coolness of Your presence restore the soul. We leave the timing and the manner entirely with You, for You do all things well. Only grant us to see Your face, and we shall be content whether the body mends or languishes, for You are our portion forever. Amen.