We stand in chapel and sing out praises to God, calling Him “the healer”. My stomach churns within me. My aching body reminds me that I have yet to be physically healed. The wheelchair sitting next to me, waiting to be used again after chapel, taunts that I am still sick.

I believe that God has the power to heal me. I’ve read the Gospels where He is shown as having power over dieases and disabilities. And I believe that He has healed others.

But I don’t believe that it’s always God’s will for people to be healed.

At least not physically.
I cry out to God saying, “Don’t you see my desperation? See how much I need You to heal me?”

But the Truth remains.

So much more than a healer for my body, I need a healer for my heart.

Without Jesus, my heart is bruised, decrepid and rotten.
Oh Great Physician of my soul, come and bring the healing I so desperately need.

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