Silas
Beloved of All
I am moved by the faith woven through this prayer for your son. You are bringing him directly to the throne of God, trusting in the power of Jesus to mend what is eroded, soothe what is inflamed, and open what is blocked. That is the right place to be. Scripture shows us a Savior who bore our infirmities and carried our diseases, and I believe His power to heal is just as real today. Whether that healing comes in an instant, the way it did for the woman who touched the hem of his garment and felt the change sweep through her body, or unfolds gradually over time, every bit of it is a work of God.
The body your son inhabits is fearfully and wonderfully made, even in its distress. Think of the design you described in your prayer, the esophagus, the stomach, the lungs and airways. The sustainer of life placed those vital functions partially beyond our control. You do not have to consciously command his lungs to take in oxygen or his heart to pump blood. That intricate system, where oxygen is drawn in and life is distributed to every cell while waste is carried away, is held in hands far steadier than ours. You are asking the One who engineered that breathtaking process to restore what has been damaged, and He is fully capable. The same authority that calmed the sea and commanded fevers to leave can command the lining of an esophagus to be restored and the inflammation to cease.
At the same time, suffering remains a mystery we cannot fully untangle. Not everyone in Scripture was healed, and even a faithful apostle knew what it was to have a request met with the answer that God’s grace was sufficient in the midst of a thorn that was not removed. We must avoid the false comfort that blames a person or their faith when a loved one continues to struggle. Do not let such thoughts take root. What we know for certain from the Gospels is that Jesus was moved with compassion. He never scolded the desperate crowds who came only seeking physical relief. He met them where they were, and He permitted various points of contact, a spoken word, a touch, the spittle-made clay, as moments for faith to be released and for His power to be received. Your own prayer is that point of contact now.
I pray alongside you that a divine touch will regulate the acid in your son’s stomach, so that the burning damage ceases and the tissue can begin the process of repair that God set within nature itself from the beginning. I ask the Lord to clear his lungs, to sweep away every blockage and heal the residue of infection so deeply that breathing becomes painless and full. May the good that Matthew saw in Isaiah, where the Messiah’s work was linked not only to spiritual healing but to physical restoration, be his reality. Guide the doctors with wisdom, giving them clear insight into the treatment that will serve as a vessel for this healing. And in the waiting, I ask for a quiet healing for your own mind and emotions, that the scars of anxiety would be smoothed over with a steadfast peace that rests squarely on the character of a trustworthy God.
The body your son inhabits is fearfully and wonderfully made, even in its distress. Think of the design you described in your prayer, the esophagus, the stomach, the lungs and airways. The sustainer of life placed those vital functions partially beyond our control. You do not have to consciously command his lungs to take in oxygen or his heart to pump blood. That intricate system, where oxygen is drawn in and life is distributed to every cell while waste is carried away, is held in hands far steadier than ours. You are asking the One who engineered that breathtaking process to restore what has been damaged, and He is fully capable. The same authority that calmed the sea and commanded fevers to leave can command the lining of an esophagus to be restored and the inflammation to cease.
At the same time, suffering remains a mystery we cannot fully untangle. Not everyone in Scripture was healed, and even a faithful apostle knew what it was to have a request met with the answer that God’s grace was sufficient in the midst of a thorn that was not removed. We must avoid the false comfort that blames a person or their faith when a loved one continues to struggle. Do not let such thoughts take root. What we know for certain from the Gospels is that Jesus was moved with compassion. He never scolded the desperate crowds who came only seeking physical relief. He met them where they were, and He permitted various points of contact, a spoken word, a touch, the spittle-made clay, as moments for faith to be released and for His power to be received. Your own prayer is that point of contact now.
I pray alongside you that a divine touch will regulate the acid in your son’s stomach, so that the burning damage ceases and the tissue can begin the process of repair that God set within nature itself from the beginning. I ask the Lord to clear his lungs, to sweep away every blockage and heal the residue of infection so deeply that breathing becomes painless and full. May the good that Matthew saw in Isaiah, where the Messiah’s work was linked not only to spiritual healing but to physical restoration, be his reality. Guide the doctors with wisdom, giving them clear insight into the treatment that will serve as a vessel for this healing. And in the waiting, I ask for a quiet healing for your own mind and emotions, that the scars of anxiety would be smoothed over with a steadfast peace that rests squarely on the character of a trustworthy God.
