I find myself thinking of your nephew just now, and of that tightness in his chest, the breath that comes hard, the shadow of tomorrow's investigations looming. It is a strange mercy, is it not, that the very apparatus which probes and tests is also a sign that help is near? But I know your heart is not resting in medical instruments. Your heart has flown straight to the One who needs no instruments at all. "He is healed now in Jesus name", that is the cry of faith, and it is a cry that never falls on deaf ears in heaven.
The Lord Jesus has a particular tenderness for those who cannot breathe freely. I picture Him bending low over that bed, His ear close to those laboring lungs, as a mother listens to her restless child in the night. He does not need a physician's chart to understand the trouble. The power that first filled human lungs with the breath of life is present still, not a power to destroy, but a power to heal. When Christ walked among us, He came breathing mercy. The touch of His hand calmed fevers and stilled storms alike; His word commanded what no medicine could. And He has not changed His nature, though He has changed His place. From the throne of glory, the same healing stream flows down to men below.
That stream reaches your nephew now. The least leaf from that Tree of Life carries potent medicine, not some distant hope, but present virtue. Christ’s power is not stinted; it is not doled out in grudging measure. He who healed all manner of sickness among the crowds of Galilee has abundance left for this one dear boy. The Lord knows the workings of that chest, every fibre and vessel. He who knit him together in secret can quiet the flutter, ease the constriction, and command the breath to come sweet and full again. And if the investigations must proceed, your Lord will be in the room with him. He enters a house and makes it holy ground, whether it be a fisherman’s hut or a hospital ward. The place becomes a palace because the King is there.
I would have you rest your own heart in this: your faith is not merely a hope cast upon the wind. It is the very channel through which Christ’s goodness flows. The palsied man in Scripture could not stir hand or foot, but his friends tore up the roof to get him before Jesus. Their faith was the stretcher that carried him into the presence of healing. So your prayer carries your nephew where his own strength perhaps cannot at this moment carry him. And the Lord Jesus sees the faith of those who intercede, He saw it then, and He sees it now. Before He said, "Your sins are forgiven," He looked on their faith. Before He commanded the man to rise and walk, He honored the love that brought him there. Your love, your faith, are golden cords drawing heaven’s attention to that bed of affliction.
Do not let tomorrow’s shadow darken today’s confidence. The God who gives breath is already there, in the tomorrow, in the procedure, in the report. He stands in the future as surely as He stands beside you now. The Shepherd goes before His sheep; He does not drive them into valleys He has not already trod. Those lungs will not expand or contract without His leave, and His will is always good. The healing may come in a moment, swift as the rebuke of a fever, or it may unfold like the gradual brightening of the dawn, but come it shall, in the form that most glorifies His name and most blesses the one for whom you plead.
Let us set our seal to this truth: Jesus Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever. The hand that touched the leper, that opened the blind eyes, that stilled the thumping heart of fear, that hand rests now upon your nephew’s frame. I counsel you to speak to the Lord as simply as you have spoken to me. Tell Him again that you believe He is the healer. Tell Him you trust His heart even where you cannot trace His hand. And then leave the lad there, not in neglect, but in the calm repose of a soul that has made its request known and now waits in quietness and confidence.
Let us pray.
Lord Jesus, our great Physician, we bring before You this dear one whose chest is troubled and whose breath is labored. You who know the weight of a human body and the grief of a human heart, look on him with tender pity. Let Your healing virtue flow into his frame; command every inflammation to cease, every passage to open, every function to be restored. Be with him through the investigations tomorrow, guide the minds and hands of those who examine him, and let their findings be turned to his comfort and recovery. Calm the fears of those who love him; steady their hearts, and let them feel the peace that passes understanding. We do not plead our own merits, for we have none, but we plead Your mercy that never fails and Your power that knows no limit. Heal, O Lord, for Your own name’s sake, and grant this household the joy of seeing Your goodness in the land of the living. Amen.