You have been lying awake, turning the pillow over and over, counting the hours until the grey dawn breaks through the curtain. The mind will not rest because the heart is heavy: the surgery looms, the bills stare you in the face, and weariness has seeped into your very bones. You have said to yourself, “If only I could sleep, I would be better able to face tomorrow.” And you are right, sleep is the best medicine, more healing than all the apothecary’s bottles, a gift that restores the poor labourer as sweetly as it restores the king. But it is a gift, not a wage; you cannot earn it by fretting. You have been rising up early and sitting up late, eating the bread of sorrows, but it is vain. The Lord gives His beloved sleep.
Do you think He has forgotten you in the night watches? He that keeps Israel neither slumbers nor sleeps. His eye is upon you for good, and He knows your frame, He remembers that you are dust. That same Lord Jesus who slept so soundly in the storm-tossed boat while the waves beat and the disciples feared, He is with you in your tempest. They cried, “Master, carest Thou not that we perish?” and it seemed to them that He was indifferent; but He was not, and He is not. He who spoke peace to the raging sea will speak peace to your troubled heart. He may seem quiet, but He is in the vessel with you, and no storm can sink the ship that carries the Master.
Your body is weak, your purse is low, and the doctors speak of treatments that cost more than you can see. But you are a sheep of His pasture, and the Good Shepherd will not starve His flock. He makes His own to lie down in green pastures; He leads them beside still waters. Not a sparrow falls to the ground without your Father, and you are of more value than many sparrows. Has He not promised to supply all your need according to His riches in glory by Christ Jesus? The same Father who knit you together in your mother’s womb will carry you through the surgeon’s hands. You may not understand how the money will come, any more than the Israelites understood how manna would appear with the morning dew. But morning by morning it came, and so will His provision for you. Do not let the black-edged envelope of tomorrow’s care rob you of tonight’s rest. Commit it all into the hands that were pierced for you, and then lay your head upon the pillow as a child lays its head in its father’s arms.
So I say to you, weary soul, claim that sleep which is the peculiar treasure of the children of God. Not the sleep of despair, not the sleep of the sluggard, but the sweet slumber of a heart that has cast its burden on the Lord. The Lord Jesus Himself has prayed for you and over you; He sends His Spirit to hush your fears and sing a lullaby of love to your spirit. You are safe. You are held. You are provided for, not because your hand is strong, but because your Shepherd is strong and His heart is toward you. Let that truth be the pillow for your head this night.
Lord Jesus, we bring this dear friend before Thee, for Thou seest the sleepless nights, the anxious thoughts, the heavy need of provision. Speak the word, “Peace, be still,” to this troubled heart. Grant the gift of deep, restoring sleep, the sleep Thou givest to Thy beloved. Be a wall of fire round about this one and all they love, and let no harm come near their dwelling. Stretch forth Thy hand in faithful provision, meet every financial need, go before them into those medical treatments and that surgery, and let them know Thou art the Lord that healeth them. Compose their spirit, quiet their mind, and let them rest in the cleft of the Rock, anchored in hope, until the morning breaks and the shadows flee away. In Jesus’ name. Amen.