The Last Chair in the ER
There were twelve chairs in the ER waiting room. Eleven were filled.
He took the twelfth.
It was cold. Plastic. The kind of seat that makes you aware of your back, your breathing, your heartbeat. Everything felt louder than it should—phones buzzing, a child coughing, a man pacing with red-rimmed eyes.
He didn’t know if he should cry or pray.
So he did both.
No eloquence. No theology. Just a whispered plea:
“God, I don’t even know what to say. But if You’re listening… please.”
That’s what this post is for.
It’s for the twelfth chair.
The one where you’re past pretending, past performing, and just desperate for presence.
A Raw, Honest Prayer for Healing and Strength
Lord Jesus,
This is not the prayer I wanted to pray.
I wanted healing yesterday. I wanted peace without the ache.
But here I am—still hurting, still holding on by a thread.
And so, I come to You not because my faith is strong, but because it’s all I have left.
You are the Great Physician—not just of bodies, but of minds, marriages, memories, and everything that has unraveled inside me.
Your Word says:
“Heal me, O Lord, and I shall be healed; save me, and I shall be saved, for You are my praise.” — Jeremiah 17:14
So I give You everything:
- the fatigue that medicine can’t reach,
- the questions I’m afraid to say aloud,
- the hope I buried beneath sarcasm and silence.
Touch me again, Lord. Not with shallow comfort. But with presence.
Speak the kind of peace that makes no sense—except that it came from You.
And for those I love, the ones I cannot fix…
Wrap them in Your mercy.
Be the strength where theirs runs out.
Be the light where the diagnosis looks dark.
Be the rest in the room where no one’s sleeping.
I don’t need a miracle to believe—
but I do need You to stay close.
Amen.
Why We Pray for Healing (Even When It Hurts to Hope)
The Bible never treats pain as imaginary.
Jesus didn’t avoid the sick or the suffering—He walked straight into their grief. He touched fevers. He sat with mourners. He wept at gravesides. Our God does not flinch at brokenness.
When we pray for healing, we’re not just asking for relief.
We’re surrendering control.
We’re choosing trust over timeline.
We’re saying, “You are still good—even here.”
Healing is not the absence of scars.
It’s the presence of Christ in the middle of them.
Sometimes healing comes like lightning—sudden, brilliant, unmistakable.
Sometimes it comes like dawn—slow, almost hidden, but steadily rising.
And sometimes…
healing looks like the courage to take one more breath while still bleeding.
What to Do After You Pray
If this prayer cracked something open in you, don’t rush past it.
Here are three ways to hold that sacred space:
🖊️ Write What You’re Carrying
Don’t edit yourself. Pour it out. God already knows—and He invites the honesty.
📖 Cling to One Verse
Let a single line from Scripture anchor your soul. Tape it to your mirror. Speak it aloud. Let it breathe for you when you can’t find your own words.
Start here:
- Jeremiah 17:14
- Psalm 30:2
- Isaiah 41:10
- James 5:14–16
- Matthew 11:28
🙏 Pray for Someone Else
Sometimes the most healing thing you can do is intercede. Even when your pain is loud, love is louder.
FAQs on Healing and Prayer
Does God still heal today?
Yes. But not always the way we expect. He heals bodies, yes—but also bitterness, burnout, and unbelief. And sometimes, healing begins in the waiting.
What if I’m tired of asking?
Then pray this:
“God, I’m out of words. But I’m still Yours.”
He hears the silence too.
Can I still trust Him if the answer is no?
You’re not alone in that question. Jesus Himself said, “Let this cup pass from Me…” before whispering, “Not my will.” Trust isn’t the absence of pain—it’s kneeling in it.
What if I don’t feel anything when I pray?
God doesn’t require feelings. He requires faith. And faith is sometimes nothing more than showing up again.
The Final Benediction: You Are Not Forgotten
You may be sitting in the twelfth chair.
The one in the corner. The one where no one sees you bleed.
But God sees.
God stays.
God still heals.
So exhale.
And let that sigh rise like incense.
Because the God who shaped you from dust—
has never stopped touching clay.
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Recommended Books on Prayer and Healing
If this prayer touched your heart, here are a few resources that can take your prayer life even deeper:
- 📘 E.M. Bounds on Prayer – A timeless classic on fervent, faith-filled prayer.
- 📙 The Power of a Praying Life – Encouragement and clarity for those struggling to stay consistent.
- 📖 Praying the Psalms – A gentle guide to praying Scripture, especially during hard seasons.
All of these are books I personally recommend, and they’ve helped many grow closer to God through prayer.
Explore More: Grow in Faith and Strength
Your journey doesn’t have to end with this one prayer. Keep leaning in:
Share This Prayer
💬 If this prayer helped you, please share it with a friend or family member who needs encouragement. We never know who’s waiting for a word of hope.
“This prayer brought peace to me during chemo treatments.” — Sarah R.
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Hello my name is Carmella. I sit here in my home still reeling from
The aftermath of my divorce. Wow ! After devoting 36 1/2 years to a marriage that was nothing but I lie. I know that I tell people and myself that I’m doing ok but deep down inside I’m not. So thank you for giving me the words to speak to God
Thanks for your sharing for everyone needs read like this one so they sit and theory before go bedtime