Your words carry the weight of real desperation, and that is not a place to be ashamed of. So often it is when we are brought to the very end of ourselves, to a strait where we have no resources left, that we finally cry out with our whole being. That kind of desperate prayer is not a sign of weak faith; it is the rending of the heart that God desires. He is not far from you in this moment. He is gracious, and He is merciful, and He hears the cry of the afflicted.
The very brain that is under assault is a testament to the wisdom of our Creator. Think of what a small package the ant’s brain is, yet it can communicate and cooperate. Your own brain, even in its suffering, is an infinitely more complex masterpiece, translating vibrations into sound, light into faces, and storing memories in a vast catalog that allows you to know and be known. That same Designer knows every single electronic pulse flashing across your mind right now. He reads the thought patterns of panic and pain, and He does not despise them. He understands the body He formed.
Suffering like this is a deep mystery. We know that in an overall sense, sickness and death entered the world because of sin, but it is not always a direct cause and effect. Good people suffer from cancer. Faithful people face severe illness. Even the Apostle Paul went through suffering that left him weak, bearing about in his body the dying of the Lord Jesus. He prayed three times for a thorn in his flesh to be removed, and God’s will was not to heal it in the way he asked, but to give him grace that was sufficient. That does not make your plea for healing wrong; it means we hold our desperate cry before a sovereign God who loves you more than you can comprehend.
And while we cannot presume that it is always His will to heal physically in every case, we also cannot limit what Christ’s suffering purchased. Jesus went about healing every sickness and every disease, and His own body was broken. The prophecy He fulfilled includes physical healing, and we are right to ask for it boldly. You asked to be healed in the blood of the Lord Jesus Christ. That blood was shed because of a suffering far beyond any physical agony, the weight of the world’s sin, so that you could fellowship with God. Whether He stops the convulsions of your failing body now or walks with you through the valley, His goal is to bring you to Himself.
Through this awful trial, God can do a work that nothing else can. Suffering causes roots to go deep. It develops a depth of character, a richness that cannot be found in ease. The people who have walked through the deepest pain are often the ones from whom we draw the most, because they carry an interesting depth that excels anything else. He is teaching you obedience, trust, and hope in ways you could never learn otherwise.
Cry out to Him. Let your whole being pour itself out at His feet. This present suffering, as heavy as it is, is a light affliction when placed on the eternal scales next to the glory that will be revealed. There is no comparison. Your desperation is the very place where the power of Christ can rest upon you. Hold fast to the hope that the suffering of this present time is not worthy to be compared with what awaits you.