Jesus Healed Them All! — So Why Am I Still in Pain?

As I write this, my hand hurts.

It's the same hand I just laid on around 500 people in Paris last weekend. We saw around 1,500 people touched by God's power. Many experienced immediate healing. An amazing weekend, and I can't believe I get to go to work with my heavenly Father.

This morning I woke up, sat down at the keyboard, and my hand still hurt.

I've walked with this tension for 20 years.

I had a botched surgery two decades ago. Since then I've lived with daily pain. Least in summer. Worst in winter. Always present.

Today I want to take you into the theology I've discovered over those twenty years. Not as an explanation, but as my honest journey.

Two ditches we easily fall into

When you believe in healing while living with pain, there are two ditches you can easily fall into.

One is losing faith in healing altogether. "I'm tired of being disappointed, so I'll stop hoping." It feels mature. It feels realistic. But it's a compromise that doesn't honor God, and it's not what Scripture asks of us.

The other is to grit your teeth and play well. "I'm healed in Jesus' name — I just won't accept the symptoms." It may sound full of faith. But it often ends in exhaustion, and it pushes away others who don't have the energy to perform at the same level.

Between the two ditches there is a road. It's narrow. That's where I've walked for twenty years.

The theology of suffering in one sentence

Let me say it very plainly:

My faith in healing does not depend on whether I myself am healed.

That's the whole difference.

I believe in healing because Jesus is who he is. Not because it works for me. Not because I'm having a good day today.

Jesus is my doctor. Even when I'm in pain while praying for others who are being set free.

It's not a trick. It's a posture I've been led into over decades.

What Scripture taught me to see

Notice this:

Paul prayed three times, but the help wasn't given.

"Three times I pleaded with the Lord to take it away from me. But he said to me: 'My grace is enough for you, for my power reaches its goal through weakness.'" (2 Cor 12:8-9)

This is the same Paul who saw the blind receive their sight and the lame stand up. He was neither weak in faith nor bad at praying. He simply didn't get what he asked for.

He got something else. Grace.

And he writes, while he still has the thorn, to the church in Corinth:

"That is why we do not give up. Even though our body is gradually wearing out, our inner life is being renewed day by day." (2 Cor 4:16)

That's a theology of suffering. Outer wearing down. Inner renewal. Both at the same time.

Then notice Hebrews 11. The faith chapter. It starts triumphantly:

"By their faith such heroes conquered hostile nations, ruled with justice and saw God's promises fulfilled. They shut the mouths of lions and survived burning flames. They escaped superior armies, gained new strength after exhaustion, new power in war and put enemy armies to flight." (Heb 11:33-34)

And without changing tone, without saying but sometimes, the writer continues:

"Some people were tortured to death because they would not deny their faith. … Others were severely tested with mockery and whippings, or they were thrown into prison and put in chains. Some were stoned, sawn in two or executed with the sword. Others went about hungry, dressed in sheep- or goatskins, persecuted and mistreated." (Heb 11:35-37)

It's all faith.

Faith looked not only like miracles. Faith also looked like endurance. The one was no greater than the other. Both received God's recognition.

That's the theology that carries me.

What I do so that resilience doesn't die

I've been asked many times: how do you bear it? How does your faith not turn cynical after 20 years?

It's what I've built up over the years. It's not just empty talk. It's discipline with Jesus at the center.

I remind myself of who God is. Every day. Not of what he has done for me today. Of who he IS. If I let the pain define God, I lose. If I let who God is define the pain, I win.

I keep serving. The pain must not get the last word. Laying my hand on others while my own hand is burning is one of the most healing things I've learned. It's not about suppressing anything. It's about choosing who I am, independent of what my body tells me.

I live in praise. Not because I always feel it. But because praise is a movement I can step into before the feeling comes. That's where heaven lowers itself closest to earth in my life.

I live in community. Pain isolates. God calls us into deeper community. I have people around me who know what I live with, and who don't move away when I'm having a hard day.

It's not always impressive. But it's where I stand. And it works.

I'm almost done writing, and I look at my hand again.

It still hurts.

That's maybe the most important thing I can share with you today.

A theology that only works without pain won't hold. It's wishful thinking. Jesus offers something else — something that carries us while we wait.

I haven't found the way out of my pain. I've found a way through it. It's not victory. It's not resignation. It's a third thing — what Scripture calls grace.

If you're standing in a similar place — you believe, but something in your body, your life or a relationship is still waiting — then here's what I want to say to you:

You don't have to be free of it to be close to Jesus.

You don't have to have the neat answers for God to love you.

You don't have to be healed to be his.

You are his. While you wait. While you pray. While you're in pain.

I have no explanation to give you today. Just the same thing I rest in myself: that He still heals. That his grace is enough. That my endurance counts as faith — in the same book as those who conquered kingdoms.

And that in a moment I'll get up, take this hand with me, and carry on.

Where are you waiting today? Write it below — it doesn't have to be fully thought through. Or send me a private message, if that's easier.

That's my take on Tuesday Theology — have a blessed day and add your input to the conversation 🙏