Desperate Questions, Faithful Answers

 

     

As I write this, my vision is blurry. My head is painfully throbbing and foggy. My eyes ache, my face aches, and my body feels weak. I came to a place where I had to ask myself: am I praying for healing, or am I praying to leave this world? It wasn’t a simple question.

Raymond, a fellow member of my congregation who has been instrumental in supporting my father and me, reminded me that we are to pray for what is on our hearts. Some people receive healing in this life; some only after transition. Either way, prayer is valid.

I prayed for healing. I’m holding on to faith, knowing that something is working even while I’m in this state. I claim my healing, and I rebuke and bind any powers of darkness trying to interfere.

Faith Like Habakkuk

Habakkuk questioned God about suffering and injustice. He didn’t understand why things were happening the way they were. Yet the book ends with a powerful declaration:

“Though the fig tree does not bud
and there are no grapes on the vines…
yet I will rejoice in the Lord.”
— Habakkuk 3:17–18

Habakkuk learned that faith sometimes means trusting God even when the situation doesn’t immediately change. That’s the place I find myself in right now. I pray for healing. But I also trust God even if the road is longer than I expect.

Interference from the Powers of Darkness

Raymond was explaining something about prayer that made me think. As he explained it, Raymond described it as something like a hemisphere between Earth and Heaven, where the powers of darkness attempt to interfere with our prayers, almost like interference with a signal. Scripture tells us that the spiritual world contains forces we cannot see.

“For we wrestle not against flesh and blood, but against principalities, against powers, against the rulers of the darkness of this world…”
— Ephesians 6:12

I came to realize that prayer is not just asking. Prayer is action. And when we pray, we put on the full armor of God. We engage in the spiritual battle.

Raymond reminded me that God has given us authority. When we pray, we must make a clear statement to rebuke and bind the powers of darkness that try to interfere with the response to our prayers. Not because God is weak, but because believers are called to stand firm in faith during the battle.

The book of Daniel actually describes something similar. When Daniel prayed, the answer from God was sent immediately. But the messenger bringing the answer was delayed because of spiritual opposition.

“From the first day that you set your mind to gain understanding… your words were heard. But the prince of the Persian kingdom resisted me twenty-one days.”
— Daniel 10:12–13

That passage changed how I look at prayer. Sometimes the delay is not silence. Sometimes the delay is battle.

Our Response

That means we must pray, we must open the Word ourselves, and we must be still and wait for His response. Prayer is action. It is how we engage with God.

Fellowship strengthens us. When believers come together, we pray for one another and lift each other up during the storm. There is power in believers connecting together in prayer.

Scripture gives us God’s message. Through His Word we receive understanding of what He has revealed. Reflection is waiting on Him. It is the quiet place where we sit with His Word, allowing it to settle into our hearts while we wait for deeper understanding and guidance.

These things work together. They strengthen our faith and keep us grounded while we walk through the storm.

The Instruments God Uses

God often utilizes many instruments to work in our lives, and this includes people — a prayer from a friend, a word of encouragement, a conversation with a brother from church, or Cari, a grief counselor from my church.

I received prayer and support from both Cari and Raymond, as well as many others God has placed in my life, both from my church and outside — God-fearing people who have walked with me during this season.

What My Messages Reveal About Me

I’m still fighting. Faith is under pressure, but I keep holding on. My suffering is deepening my empathy in ways I didn’t fully realize before. I’ve been able to forgive people and release things I didn’t even realize I was holding onto, because I know I cannot carry them into the Kingdom. I’m learning to let go of fear, to accept death, and to understand the transition in a new way.

I’m recognizing how important the body of Christ is — I needed my brothers and sisters around me during this time, and their presence matters. It’s a horrible experience, but one I’m learning from, and in that, there is something positive.

Suffering can be brutal physically, but spiritually it produces humility, patience, empathy, deeper faith, and less attachment to this world. I’m not alone in this fight.

God Himself is present through prayer, the Holy Spirit dwells within me guiding and comforting, and the Body of Christ surrounds me — praying, supporting, and walking with me. I can feel the layers of connection holding me up, even in the moments when I feel weak or uncertain.

A Question No One Really Knows

Will we see our loved ones once we pass? No one knows this for certain. Raymond shared his perspective: once we are there, we will be adoring God and worshiping Him, fully in His presence in heaven. In this life, we have nothing to measure or compare eternity against.

Perhaps we will see our loved ones, perhaps we will not. What truly matters is being with God and experiencing His love.

I discussed this with my father, and he reminded me that we will be filled with love, which, in his words, is the same as being with our loved ones. That, he said, is what truly matters. I understood that.

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