When Healing Stalls

What Do You Do When You’ve Been Faithfully Stewarding the Body God Has Given You…and You’re Still Waiting?

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.” — Proverbs 15:22

I wasn’t expecting another appointment.

Another consultation.

Another reminder that the journey wasn’t over.

If I’m honest, I wasn’t expecting to lose ground.

Over the past several years, God has done remarkable things in my healing journey. Through addressing the foundational principles of health—nutrition, sleep, stress, movement, nervous system regulation, digestive support, and so many other healing opportunities—I have watched Him restore parts of my health that I once thought were gone forever.

Food sensitivities that once dictated my life no longer have the same grip. Inflammation has decreased. My hormones have become more balanced. My energy has returned. I no longer rely on caffeine to silence the fatigue signals my body was faithfully trying to communicate.

There has been so much to celebrate.

And then…

Almost without warning…

My body seemed to stop cooperating.

Symptoms I thought were behind me returned. My lower gastrointestinal system, already bearing the scars of long Lyme disease, seemed to shut down in ways I hadn’t experienced for quite some time.

I found myself sitting in yet another doctor’s office.

Asking questions I never wanted to ask again.

Wondering if I had somehow gone backwards.

If you’ve lived with chronic illness for any length of time, perhaps you know that feeling.

The discouragement isn’t only physical.

It’s emotional.

It’s spiritual.

It whispers questions into your heart that you never wanted to ask.

“Why now?”

“What did I miss?”

“What more could I have done?”

“Why isn’t this healed yet?”

Perhaps the hardest question of all is the one we rarely say out loud:

“Did I fail?”

I wonder if you’ve ever asked that question too.

Maybe not about your health.

Maybe about your marriage.

Your child.

Your ministry.

Your work.

Your prayers.

You have faithfully stewarded what God entrusted to you…and yet life still hurts.

One of the subtle lies suffering tempts us to believe is that if we’ve done everything “right,” we should receive the outcome we hoped for.

But Scripture has never promised us that.

It promises us something even better.

His presence.

As an FDN Practitioner, I still wholeheartedly believe in the foundations.

They matter.

God designed our bodies with an extraordinary capacity to heal when given the proper environment and resources. Supporting digestion, reducing inflammation, nourishing the body well, sleeping deeply, managing stress, restoring nervous system resilience, removing hidden stressors—these are not optional. They are wise acts of stewardship.

They matter because our bodies matter to God.

But over the years, I’ve learned something equally important:

The next layer doesn’t mean the last layer didn’t work.

Healing is rarely linear.

It is often more like peeling an onion.

One layer is addressed.

Healing comes.

Then another layer appears.

Not because you’ve failed.

But because our bodies are wonderfully complex, and healing often unfolds one faithful layer at a time.

Sometimes those new layers become invitations to seek additional wisdom.

“Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.” (Proverbs 15:22)

That verse has become increasingly precious to me.

Seeking another opinion isn’t weak faith.

It isn’t abandoning everything you’ve learned.

It isn’t admitting defeat.

Sometimes it is simply wise stewardship.

Sometimes God provides another clue.

Another practitioner.

Another physician.

Another perspective.

Another layer waiting to be uncovered.

The foundations remain foundational.

They simply aren’t always the entire story.

But somewhere in the middle of another difficult week, I realized the Lord was asking a deeper question than, “How can we fix this?”

He was asking,

“Will you seek My face before you seek My hand?”

I once heard a pastor say those words, and they have echoed in my heart ever since.

Of course we pray for healing.

Jesus welcomed people to bring every need before Him.

We ask.

We seek.

We knock.

We steward.

But somewhere in the waiting, I realized I wanted something even more than relief.

I wanted Him.

Because if all I ever seek is His hand, I may miss His heart.

And it has been in some of the deepest places of suffering that I have come to know His presence most intimately.

There is a safe place.

A hiding place.

Not because the pain disappears.

But because His faithfulness never does.

Years ago, my pastor’s wife said something I’ve never forgotten.

“The seasons of suffering wring the worship from our hearts.”

At the time, I appreciated those words.

Now…

I’ve lived them.

There have been seasons when worship looked like singing in church with my family.

There have also been seasons when worship looked like whispering, “Jesus…” through tears from the bathroom floor.

There have been days when my body couldn’t do what I wanted it to do.

But my soul still could.

It could trust.

It could hope.

It could worship.

It could cling to the One who has never once abandoned me.

Sometimes God, in His kindness, slows us down—not to punish us, but to invite us into deeper fellowship with Him.

When so much is stripped away…

When our strength is gone…

When our plans unravel…

Deep cries out to deep.

Not because suffering is good.

But because Christ meets us there.

As believers, we live in the tension of the “already” and the “not yet.”

Already, we have been redeemed.

Already, we have been forgiven.

Already, we have been made new in Christ.

And yet…

We still battle sin.

We still grieve.

We still wait.

We still live in bodies longing for the day they will finally be made whole.

One day, every scar will be gone.

Every disease undone.

Every weakness redeemed.

Every tear wiped away.

Every broken body restored.

Until that day comes, we continue to steward faithfully.

Not because we worship health.

But because we worship the One who entrusted these bodies to us.

The Westminster Shorter Catechism begins with a question that has anchored Christians for generations:

“What is the chief end of man?”

The answer is beautifully simple:

“To glorify God, and to enjoy Him forever.”

That is why I continue to pursue healing.

Not because perfect health is my greatest treasure.

But because I want to faithfully steward every gift God has entrusted to me—my body, my family, my calling, my relationships, my time.

Yet above all of those gifts…

I want Him.

Because long after every symptom has faded…

Long after every question has been answered…

Long after my body is finally made whole…

I will still be doing exactly what I was created for.

Worshipping Him.

Enjoying Him.

Forever.

Friend, if healing has stalled…

If you’ve found yourself discouraged because another layer has appeared…

If you’re wondering whether you’ve somehow failed…

May I gently remind you:

You have not been abandoned.

You have not been forgotten.

The next layer does not erase the progress God has already accomplished.

Continue to seek wisdom.

Continue to steward your body faithfully.

Continue to invite wise counsel.

But above all…

Seek His face before you seek His hand.

Because even when healing feels slow…

His faithfulness never is.