When Healing Doesn’t Come This Side of Heaven
I am grateful that my mental health disorder is manageable, allowing me to enjoy a good quality of life even with its limitations. When I was hospitalized for two weeks on the inpatient psychiatric unit at Bon Secours in Richmond, VA, the doctors told my parents they weren’t sure I would recover from the manic-induced psychosis caused by going off my medication cold turkey, without tapering or psychiatric supervision. Thankfully, the care team provided the right treatments, and I did recover. I have not stopped taking my medication since, and I never will. That was a hard, but important, lesson learned.
Even so, I’ve always wondered: what happens when people don’t heal? I’ve had three inpatient psychiatric stays, and each time I left questioning how I got to walk out while some of the people I met could not. I want to share a piece by Dr. Cindy H. Carr, DMin, MCLA that blends science and faith. Her post, When Healing Doesn’t Come This Side of Heaven: A Pastoral Reflection on Enduring Faith, Acceptance, and Ongoing Care, offers wisdom and hope for anyone navigating long-term challenges with health and healing.
When Healing Doesn’t Come This Side of Heaven:
A Pastoral Reflection on Enduring Faith, Acceptance, and Ongoing Care
by Dr. Cindy H. Carr, DMin, MCLA
The Pastoral Tension: Holding Faith and Reality Together
In over three decades of ministry, I have prayed for miraculous healings, seen remarkable recoveries, and also stood beside families who never witnessed the outcome they hoped for. The hardest moments are when we must reconcile the theology of healing with the reality of enduring suffering. As a pastoral counselor, I’ve learned to live in the space between belief and reality—to hold both hope for the miraculous and compassion for the chronic.
There is a deep grief in realizing that some minds may not fully recover and some hearts may wrestle with illness for a lifetime. But God’s mercy does not abandon them in that space—it sustains them. Healing is not always visible, but the grace that holds a suffering soul is every bit as divine as a physical miracle.
Stories That Shape Understanding
I once worked with a woman who didn’t show signs of serious mental illness until she was nearly sixty. What began as confusion slowly became delusion. She lived in an alternate reality where she believed she was married to a public figure and that her family had betrayed her. No matter how much her loved ones prayed, reasoned, or reassured, her mind could not come back to them.
And yet, her love for Christ never faltered. Even when she believed she was someone else entirely, she sang hymns of praise, prayed for others, and radiated a love that transcended her illness. Her mind drifted, but her spirit remained anchored to her Savior. This remains one of the most profound reminders that the human spirit—once rooted in Christ—cannot be fully broken.
Another story comes from a young man I worked with for several years. He was kind, intelligent, and deeply compassionate. He had a beautiful girlfriend who also battled mental illness, and tragically, both of them lost their lives to it. Their story broke something in me that only God could repair. It reminded me that love and faith do not always rescue us from human frailty. Sometimes the weight of illness is heavier than the will to live, and those left behind must find ways to keep believing in a God who heals hearts even when bodies and minds fail.
Over the years, I have walked with families whose loved ones were medication-resistant or so severely impaired that the illness rendered them permanently disabled. These families live out an unseen heroism—showing love through stability, routine, and faithfulness even when hope for recovery fades. Their ministry is one of endurance.
Redefining Healing and Wholeness
Not every story ends with restored clarity or emotional balance. Sometimes healing comes as peace within the storm rather than the storm’s end. We must redefine healing not as the absence of struggle, but as the presence of Christ in it.
“My grace is sufficient for you, for My power is made perfect in weakness.” — 2 Corinthians 12:9
Healing may not always mean restored functioning or symptom relief. Sometimes it looks like a family who learns to find laughter in the midst of chaos, a mother who prays each night for her child’s safety, or a caregiver who whispers blessings over a loved one who no longer recognizes them. These moments, though ordinary, are sacred. They remind us that restoration doesn’t always return someone to who they were—sometimes it transforms all who are involved.
The Call to Families: Acceptance, Strength, and Support
For many families, acceptance is not giving up; it is adjusting expectations in the light of God’s unchanging love. It means acknowledging that faithfulness, not fixing, is the true measure of love.
When healing doesn’t come, families can:
• Redefine Hope – Hope doesn’t always mean cure; it means God’s presence in the midst of pain. “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil, for You are with me.” — Psalm 23:4
• Release the Guilt – Mental illness is not a failure of faith or family. It is a medical, emotional, and spiritual battle that requires grace—for your loved one and for yourself.
• Find Small Anchors of Connection – Even when conversation fades, kindness still speaks. A gentle voice, a touch, a whispered prayer—these are languages of love that reach beyond logic.
• Build a Circle of Support – Don’t carry the weight alone. Pastoral counselors, therapists, support groups, and faithful friends can help you navigate grief and compassion fatigue.
• Remember the Eternal Perspective – There will come a day when the mind is made whole, the spirit restored, and tears are wiped away.
“He will wipe every tear from their eyes. There will be no more death or mourning or crying or pain.” — Revelation 21:4
For some families, love means letting go of the dream of recovery and embracing the ministry of presence. That is not defeat—it is discipleship.
Faith Reflection
Sometimes the miracle is not the restoration of the mind but the preservation of faith. Even when reason falters, the Spirit of God can remain strong within a person. I have seen this truth again and again: faith endures where cognition cannot. Worship rises where logic fails. Grace lingers where understanding dissolves.
When a loved one passes after years of suffering, grief and peace coexist. The sorrow of absence mingles with the comfort of knowing they are free—their thoughts clear, their worship unhindered, their joy complete in the presence of Christ.
“Now we see only a reflection as in a mirror; then we shall see face to face.” — 1 Corinthians 13:12
Closing Prayer
Lord, when healing does not come as we hoped, hold us steady in Your grace. Comfort the families who love through confusion, who stay when answers fade, and who trust You through pain they cannot fix. Give courage to caregivers, mercy to the weary, and hope to those who grieve. Teach us to see healing as You see it—in the quiet endurance of faith, in the steady beat of compassion, and in the promise that one day, all will be made whole.
Amen.
In “When Healing Doesn’t Come This Side of Heaven,” Dr. Cindy H. Carr reminds us that God’s grace meets us not always through cure, but through the hope of wholeness to come. 🌿Click here to visit her webpage, https://www.cindyhcarr.com