So many times, when I think about sickness, my heart turns instinctively to prayer. I pray often—sometimes desperately—for healing: healing for my eyes, healing for my digestive system, healing for my chest, and yes, even for weight loss. Over the years, I have cried out to the Lord for healing again and again.
But this morning, I read these words: “If we ask anything according to His will, He hears us.” And I paused. I asked myself—do I truly know the will of God concerning healing?
I do know this: “By His stripes, we are healed.” I know that He was wounded for our transgressions, bruised for our iniquities. I know He paid the ultimate price for our peace. According to His Word, it is His will for us to walk in health and wholeness. And yet, I also remember the apostle Paul, who pleaded for healing—and the Lord’s reply was, “My grace is sufficient for you.”
The Word of God is clear: healing is not a foreign concept to Him. When I look through the Gospels, I see a trail of miracles—of healing, of restoration, of wholeness. The man at the pool encountered Jesus and walked. The blind saw. The paralytic carried by friends encountered the Savior and was made whole. Lazarus came forth from the tomb after four days because Jesus called his name. Jairus’ daughter, the centurion’s servant, the woman with the issue of blood—all were healed after encountering Jesus.
And Scripture tells us plainly that these are just a few of the miracles. If everything Jesus did were written down, the world itself could not contain the books. Miracle after miracle, healing after healing—each a testament to the compassion of Christ.
I do not see Jesus ever turning someone away who asked for healing. Even when the Syrophoenician woman was seemingly denied, she persisted—and even then, mercy flowed. I see no record of Jesus withholding healing from someone who came in faith. I see Him forgiving sins, lifting burdens, and healing bodies—sometimes with a touch, sometimes with a word, and sometimes through silence that moved mountains.
I also see His disciples struggling to heal, and Jesus pointing them back to deeper faith, to prayer, to fasting.
So when I look at all of this, I wonder—why does healing feel so inaccessible today?
Why do I pray and still feel the pain in my stomach, the strain in my eyes, the weight on my chest? What are we missing, Lord? What am I missing?
Your Word says healing is Your will. Your stripes paid for it. Your Spirit administers it. And we receive not by works, but by grace—so that no one may boast. Then why, when I do not receive, do I feel shame? Do I feel less? Do I feel as though something is fundamentally wrong with me?
And in this moment, I remember my father. I remember his stroke, the coma, the long years of silence, and then the death that felt like betrayal. I think something broke in me then—something deeper than grief. I stopped believing You for healing, even if I didn’t realize it.
And before that… my mother. I was only four. Sickness stole her too. And suddenly, I see it: this seed of unbelief didn’t start today—it’s been growing in me since before I had words to name it. Long before I knew You, death had already begun stealing my faith in Your power to heal.
So yes, Lord, there’s a wound in my belief.
I’m not sure what I need—maybe it’s to read about healing every day. Maybe it’s to soak in Your Word until my spirit remembers what my mind has forgotten. Because Your Word says, “Faith comes by hearing, and hearing by the Word of God.”
But this I ask: help my unbelief.
Even now, as I sit with the discomfort in my body, it feels like my stomach is mocking me, whispering that I have no right to speak of healing while still sick. But I reject that lie. Because even if I am waiting, even if I am still hurting, Your grace is sufficient for me.
Your grace is my covering.
Your grace is my anchor.
Your grace is my answer.
So lead me, Lord—lead me out of this darkness of doubt and into the light of Your truth. Into the kingdom of healing. Into the abundance You promised.
In Jesus’ name,
Amen.
Wells of Wonder 