Healing Prayer
- Christine Labrum
- Aug 4, 2025
- 5 min read
Updated: Jan 10
Prayer from the Trail: An Imaginative Prayer of Healing on the Journey with God
Each day we engage our journey through life. Reflecting on the image of a trail can be meaningful. (Psalm 139, Psalm 142:3, Psalm 119:105, Psalm 23, Prov 5:21, Matthew 11:28-30, Luke 24)
Settle into a quiet space. Turn your attention to God and your heart. Take a moment to ask God to meet you in this imaginative prayer. What is your journey like now? Consider the landscape and terrain. Is it dark or light? What is the weather like? What obstacles do you face? How have you been wounded on your journey? What is your sense of God when you attend to Him?
Trusting God's Tending
This morning the sun is breaking through the clouds, and a blue sky is visible. The winter has been long, cold and dark, but there is a warmth in the air. The days are growing longer as the seasons change, new plants are emerging, and trees are beginning to leaf. The path ahead moves upward becoming more open.
Looking back, I see the dark wooded path I have traversed for so long and the evergreen trees stretch for miles behind me. The path has been rocky and treacherous, difficult to discern at times in the deep forest. My big brother, Jesus, has been my companion and guide, and although he disappears from view every now and again, I know that he is with me.
I stop, stand still for a moment, and hear a stream nearby with its chaotic, tumbling notes. It flows down from above.
I look up and see him standing on a rocky ledge where the path abruptly moves upward. I walk over to the steep incline where Jesus looks down from the ledge and extends his hand to grasp mine.
Leaning on my walking stick with one hand, I reach for Jesus with the other. With a firm grip he effortlessly lifts me up and over the boulders to the place he stands. I feel his calloused hand holding mine–he doesn’t let go. The Scriptures tell me of his love for me, and when I pay attention, some days I can even feel his love for me. I would not have survived the journey on the trail these winter months without him.
********What has the trail been like for me?*********
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Wounded
Jesus looks down at my feet. My sandals are muddy, my feet are caked with dried blood, and
my jeans are ripped at the knee from a nasty fall. Jesus leads me to a rock at the edge of the stream. “Wow, that must hurt. Sit down, dear one.”
I lay my walking stick on the ground. My brother carved the word “faith” into the wood before he had given it to me so many miles ago. It is a visual reminder to trust him. Stepping toward the rock, I lower myself down, trying not to wince. The weariness and ache became my constant companions this winter.
Jesus kneels before me. Resistance rises. My King should not be kneeling before me, and I awkwardly attempt to stand. But as I glance at his face, I see the warning in his eyes. He holds the authority—I do not. And I remember how Jesus knelt before his disciples at the last supper, washing their feet. So I yield and submit to his care.
*******Am I willing to offer my woundedness to God?*******
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Tending
Jesus unlaces my sandals, gently removing one and then the other. Cradling my heel in his hand, he looks up at my face. “The journey has remained hard—hasn’t it?” Tears fill my eyes. I can’t speak with the wave of mixed emotions, so I simply nod. Just a few words, but in that moment, I know I am seen. I feel understood, and it makes all the difference.
Jesus says, “You never stopped walking with me. Even when you fell or were assaulted, lost your focus or became disoriented—you turned to me. You always turned back to me. “Let’s clean you up and tend these wounds. You will heal. Do you trust me?” ” There is an intensity in his gaze—I can feel his affection.
***Have I been assaulted by the enemy, fallen, become disoriented or lost my focus?***
Do I need to turn to Jesus now?
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Jesus rolls up my jeans and reaches into the cold water. He washes the dirt and mud, the dried blood, from my feet and my knee. The wounds sting, but I feel his tenderness. His care of me is balm for my external wounds, my weary body, and my broken heart. He also sees the inner wounds that are not easily visible. As water drips down my ankle, tears drip down my cheeks—washing, cleansing, renewing.
********What is my lament?********
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Fear
“Do you remember my heart towards you?” Jesus asks. I wonder about his question as he sits on the rock beside me. I know he loves me, but it seems important to him to keep reminding me. He nudges me with his shoulder, playfully expressing his affection. We sit side by side. Sunlight shines on the frolicking brook, and I feel his presence, his nearness—he fills up the space. I am so grateful just to be with him.
I see his big feet by my little feet, still bare from his tender care and drying in the sun. I feel sheepish, longing, and so needy. The words tumble out before I can edit them. “I want you so much, Lord. The niggling, shame-filled fear that you won’t be able to tolerate my weakness, my selfishness, my failures, or my woundedness. In my neediness—will you really want me? It creeps up on me, even after all the time we have traveled together. The time at Respite Retreat was deeply meaningful, but I still find myself getting stuck in old habits of thinking, fearful thinking. I have read of your love in the Scriptures, and my mind is confident in your Word. But my heart still gets anxious.”
********How has my vulnerability and weakness been a source of shame?********
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Beloved
Jesus’ eyes grow sober as he watches fear and shame dance across my face, “Look at me, dear one. I know you get scared. I know you’ve struggled and believed, and trusted and distrusted, tripped over sin, and then persevered. And yet, you have faithfully turned back to me, again and again. I know. Remember that you cannot earn my love. You belong to me, and I love you.” Jesus puts his arm around my shoulders, pulling me into him so hard we both almost topple over. His laughter erupts as we try to regain our balance, and I can’t help but laugh too.
*******Is God inviting me to know anything else about his love and healing?*******
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This prayer emerged from my own prayer and was re-written to invite you to engage with your own story.
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