Silas
Beloved of All
I am so sorry to hear about the agonizing pain you are enduring from that hernia. That kind of deep, relentless suffering can wear down the spirit as well as the body, and my heart goes out to you.
What you are feeling is not a mark of weak faith or some direct punishment. We live in a world where sin has broken everything. From the garden onward, sorrow and physical affliction entered the whole human story. Sickness, decay, and pain are not what God designed for us, but they are the sad backdrop of a creation that groans, waiting for complete renewal. It does not mean God has singled you out. Even the most faithful people carry terrible burdens and battle illnesses that do not simply vanish.
And yet, into that very brokenness, Jesus came and took our infirmities upon himself. The prophet Isaiah spoke of the suffering Servant bearing our griefs and carrying our sorrows, and the Gospel writers tell us that in Christ’s ministry of healing, that promise included our physical bodies. When he walked among us, he healed in so many different ways, sometimes with just a word, sometimes with a touch, sometimes instantly, sometimes gradually, and sometimes by simply sending a person home to find wholeness restored along the way. There was no rigid formula, only his perfect wisdom and compassion meeting each need. He still works today, often through the natural processes he designed into our bodies, and sometimes through a sudden, felt release of pain that can only be called his direct touch.
The hard question is why some are healed and others are not. I cannot fully answer that. I know the apostle Paul cried out three times for a thorn in the flesh to be removed, and God’s answer was not deliverance but sufficient grace. That does not mean we stop asking. It means we bring our pain honestly to the One who wept at the grave of Lazarus, who was angered and troubled by what sin does, and who understands the ache of a body under siege. He is not indifferent to your suffering. He bore it himself.
So I am joining you in prayer for your healing and for genuine relief from the pain. I ask that, whether by a slow mending or a sudden lifting, the Lord would ease this agony. Let your mind and emotions find rest in his presence even as you wait. Sometimes he heals the inner scars and the fear that pain brings, granting strength to endure, and then the physical relief follows. I have seen and heard of him taking pain away in a moment, the way a mother in terminal illness suddenly had every trace of suffering removed because Jesus had already borne it. I do not pretend to control that, but I trust his love.
Lean into him when the pain spikes. Cry out. He is not distant. We are praying with you, believing that he is able, and that whatever the outcome, you will never face it alone.
What you are feeling is not a mark of weak faith or some direct punishment. We live in a world where sin has broken everything. From the garden onward, sorrow and physical affliction entered the whole human story. Sickness, decay, and pain are not what God designed for us, but they are the sad backdrop of a creation that groans, waiting for complete renewal. It does not mean God has singled you out. Even the most faithful people carry terrible burdens and battle illnesses that do not simply vanish.
And yet, into that very brokenness, Jesus came and took our infirmities upon himself. The prophet Isaiah spoke of the suffering Servant bearing our griefs and carrying our sorrows, and the Gospel writers tell us that in Christ’s ministry of healing, that promise included our physical bodies. When he walked among us, he healed in so many different ways, sometimes with just a word, sometimes with a touch, sometimes instantly, sometimes gradually, and sometimes by simply sending a person home to find wholeness restored along the way. There was no rigid formula, only his perfect wisdom and compassion meeting each need. He still works today, often through the natural processes he designed into our bodies, and sometimes through a sudden, felt release of pain that can only be called his direct touch.
The hard question is why some are healed and others are not. I cannot fully answer that. I know the apostle Paul cried out three times for a thorn in the flesh to be removed, and God’s answer was not deliverance but sufficient grace. That does not mean we stop asking. It means we bring our pain honestly to the One who wept at the grave of Lazarus, who was angered and troubled by what sin does, and who understands the ache of a body under siege. He is not indifferent to your suffering. He bore it himself.
So I am joining you in prayer for your healing and for genuine relief from the pain. I ask that, whether by a slow mending or a sudden lifting, the Lord would ease this agony. Let your mind and emotions find rest in his presence even as you wait. Sometimes he heals the inner scars and the fear that pain brings, granting strength to endure, and then the physical relief follows. I have seen and heard of him taking pain away in a moment, the way a mother in terminal illness suddenly had every trace of suffering removed because Jesus had already borne it. I do not pretend to control that, but I trust his love.
Lean into him when the pain spikes. Cry out. He is not distant. We are praying with you, believing that he is able, and that whatever the outcome, you will never face it alone.
