You lie there in your weakness, and perhaps the thought creeps in that you are forgotten. But the Lord Jesus has not forgotten, never for a moment. I want you to picture that evening in Capernaum, when they brought out all the sick and laid them in the streets until every corner was crowded with suffering. In the fading light you could hear the moans of those in pain and the cries of those whose minds were tormented. And yet the Lord Jesus moved among them like a gentle morning. He laid His hand upon one, and strength rushed into deadened limbs. He spoke to another, and the fever fled. To a third He gave only a look, and the blind eyes opened. No disease was too deep for Him, no misery too far gone. And there was no impatient hurry in Him, He gave Himself to each one as though that soul were His only errand.
Now, I want you to hear this: Jesus is just the same today. He is not less able, and He is not less tender. You have brought your need to Him, and that is the very best thing you could have done. The sick folk are still brought to His feet, and He still stretches out His hand. You may not see Him with your eyes, but He is nearer to you than your next breath. And this is the wondrous comfort, before He ever healed a body, He took our infirmities and bore our sicknesses. That is Scripture's own word. He knows your particular pain not as a stranger but as one who has carried it through Gethsemane and up to the tree. Every ache of yours He has felt in the deep of His own soul. So you are not crying out to a distant power; you are talking to a Sufferer who understands.
I do not know whether the Lord will choose to lift this from you in an hour, or whether He will walk with you through weeks and months of gradual mending. But I do know that He has begun the work already, for you have called upon His name. A heart that truly prays is never left to rot in despair. Even the little faith that made you write your request is the first green shoot of His healing love. Hold on to that. When the feverish thoughts come and the pillow is hard, say to yourself, “He took my infirmities, He bore my sicknesses.” When you feel your weakness as a chain, whisper, “The power of the Lord is present to heal me.”
Think of it this way: the physician does not always give his medicine all at once. Sometimes he spreads the draught over many days so that the cure may be thorough and the patient may learn while he leans. There is a Tree of Life whose leaves are for the healing of the nations, and one leaf held to your lips today may be just enough, so that you may look up and take another from His hand tomorrow. He is building your health piece by piece, and in the meantime He is building something deeper, a quiet trust, a closer walk, a sweet familiarity with His presence that you might never have found on a sunny road.
I remember that one of the sweetest promises runs this way: “The inhabitant shall not say, I am sick: the people that dwell therein shall be forgiven their iniquity.” Forgiveness and healing hold hands in the Gospel. And if your iniquity is forgiven, if you are resting in Jesus as your righteousness, then every good thing is already on its way to you. The sickness may linger, but its sting is drawn. Its dark envelope may still lie upon your table, but inside is a love-letter from the Father’s own hand.
So do not measure His love by your sensations. Measure it by the Cross. And when weakness makes you feel that you have nothing to hold, remember that you are held. Lay your head back upon the everlasting arms. He who permitted the sickness will bring the restoration in His own wise time. And when health returns, you will go forth with a new song, and you will say, “He has done all things well.”
Let me pray with you now.
Lord Jesus, You who went about doing good and healing all manner of sickness, look upon this dear one. You know the trouble of the body and the weariness of the mind. Speak a healing word. Send Your restoring power through every part that is out of order. If it pleases You, raise them up speedily to full health. But if the answer tarries, give patience sweeter than any earthly ease, and let Your presence be a cushion for every thorn. We bring no merit of our own, only Your own compassion. For Your name’s sake, and according to Your perfect will, let this soul taste that You are good. Amen.