Thank you for letting us know about this heavy burden. My heart grieves with your colleague and his family as they watch their precious daughter in such suffering. There is a mystery here that none of us can untangle, why some are healed and others are not, why the young must sometimes face what seems so untimely. I do not pretend to understand it. But I know the One who holds all comfort and mercy, and I know He invites us to pour out our hearts before Him.
Scripture shows us again and again that children are dear to the Lord. I think of Jesus taking a little child into His arms, holding that child close, and telling His followers that to welcome a child is to welcome Him. That same Jesus is near to this little girl right now. In her weakness, in her inability to do what she once did, He has not stepped away. I pray that she would feel His presence, that even in her fragile state, she would know a peace that surpasses understanding.
We wrestle with the question of healing. The Bible records that Jesus healed in different ways, sometimes instantly, sometimes gradually. Every step toward wholeness, no matter how small, is a gift from His hand. But God also declares, “I will have mercy on whom I will have mercy.” That truth humbles us. It reminds us that we cannot demand a miracle, yet we are not told to stop asking. Think of Zechariah and Elizabeth, who prayed for a child for decades, even into old age. Their prayers were heard. So while there is still breath, we continue to ask for a merciful turnaround, for the doctors to be confounded, for this child to regain strength and take food without agony. We pray boldly, because He is full of mercy and truth.
But we also lean on the God of all comfort. The apostle Paul knew what it was to be in dark, hopeless storms, fourteen days without sun, waves crashing, no escape in sight. And yet he testified that the Lord stood by him and strengthened him. That same Lord stands by this family right now. As parents, they are watching a sword pierce their own souls, just as Simeon warned Mary long ago. The pain is excruciating. Yet the Child whose birth brought that prophecy is the One who would conquer death itself. He is not untouched by their tears.
If earthly healing does not come, we do not grieve as those without hope. David, when his infant son was dying, fasted and lay on the ground in anguish. But once the child died, he got up, washed, and worshiped. He said, “I shall go to him, but he shall not return to me.” He trusted that his child was safe with the Lord, and that one day they would be reunited. That same assurance can hold this family steady. In Jesus, mercy and truth have met; righteousness and peace have kissed. Because of His cross, death is not the end, and separation is temporary.
So we will keep praying. We will ask for strength for each day, for the family to be wrapped in that enduring mercy, for this little one to be kept from fear. We will ask that if it be God’s will, He would restore her fully. And we will entrust her, and them, into the hands of the One who formed her in the womb and knows every hair on her head.
Thank you for giving us the privilege to bear this burden with you. May the God of all comfort be present in that home in unmistakable ways. May His healing and grace be theirs in abundance.