The sharpest trial is often the one that touches the body you live in, isn't it? And when it comes to your eyes, those little windows through which you look upon the faces of those you love, through which you read the promises of God, any dimming there feels like a shadow falling over everything. You have asked for prayer for your health and for your eyesight, and your very asking tells me you are carrying a weight. The Lord who formed those eyes knows every fear you haven't spoken aloud.
I want you to think for a moment about Peter’s house. It was no grand mansion, just the simple home of a fisherman, but it had become a hospital before the Lord turned it into a palace. A great fever was burning through the frame of Peter’s wife’s mother, and the house was full of anxiety. But here is the sweet comfort: where the disease had come, the Great Physician had come also. One touch from Jesus, and the fever left her. She rose and served Him. That same tender hand is not shortened today. Whether He chooses to lift the affliction in an instant, or to sustain you through it with grace that teaches the soul deeper lessons than perfect health ever could, He has come to you in it. He does not stand far off from your fear. He knows the way your thoughts race when the light seems a little dimmer than it was, and He is not impatient with your asking.
Some of the most Christlike souls I have ever known have worn out their bodies in long illness. Their bedchambers were not signs of God’s displeasure, but schoolrooms of His love. The Lord whom you love does not waste a single pain. The eye that is failing now sees things that the healthy eye often misses: the sufficiency of Christ, the kindness of a friend, the nearness of the Father’s hand in the dark. And this body, this vision, is not the end of the story. There is a Tree of Life growing in the paradise of God, and its leaves are for the healing of all that is broken in us. There will be no dim eyes in that land, no aching limbs, no heaviness of heart. The Healer we cry to now will be the Light of that place, and we shall see Him as He is.
So take your fears to Him again this very hour. Tell Jesus plainly about your eyesight, about your health. He heard the blind man’s cry when the crowd tried to hush him, and He hears you now. He has forgiven your sins, and the same love that pardoned you will carry you through every valley.
Let me pray with you now.
Lord Jesus, You who opened blind eyes and strengthened palsied limbs, look upon this dear one who looks to You. Quiet the anxious heart. If it pleases You, restore what is failing and refresh the weary frame. But more than this, give the inward sight that sees You more clearly with every passing day. Let Your presence be the lamp in the room when the outer light grows dim. In Your strong name we rest, Amen.