You’re praying for someone at church.

Her name is Sarah. A pillar of your community. Always the first to volunteer, always quick to hug, and always putting others before herself. She’s kind. She’s faith-filled. She’s the kind of person you want to see healed.

She’s sick.

The kind of slow, dragging sickness that doesn’t attract attention until it starts changing her. Her once-vibrant energy has dulled. Her smiles have started shrinking. And even though she waves off concern, everyone can see she’s hurting.

So today, your small group gathers around her after service. Hands laid gently on her shoulders. Heads bowed.

You start praying the way you always have:

“Dear Father, thank You for Sarah. We know You love her. And we ask… would You please heal her, Lord? In Jesus’ name, amen.”

There’s a soft murmur of agreement from the group. Eyes lift and settle on Sarah’s face.

Nothing. She wears the same encouraging but pained expression.

A whisper of disappointment moves through the circle.

Then you remember: God didn’t do this. You’re not supposed to be asking for healing. You’re supposed to be commanding it.

You take a breath and stand up straighter while staring at your hand on Sarah’s shoulder.

“In Jesus’ name, sickness leave Sarah. Body, be healed. In Jesus name! Amen”

The words feel different. Firmer.

But still… you feel nothing.

You open an eye to glance at Sarah.

She smiles gently and says, “No… I’m sorry. But thank you for praying.”

The disappointment hangs heavier than the silence.

Someone squeezes her hand and offers a soft “We’ll keep praying.” Another person mentions fasting. Someone else wonders aloud if God is “doing something deeper.”

Everyone is trying. No one wants to say it, but in your heart, a voice has already whispered:

“Why didn’t it work?”

It’s the question that stops most people from ever trying again.

You did what Jesus said. You believed. You commanded. You spoke the name above every name.

And still, no shift. No change. No healing.

Here’s the hard truth: faith guarantees the result Christ secured before the cross. If it looks like nothing happened, the one who backed down early wasn’t God.

It was you. 

However, you're not alone. It happened to the best of them too.

In Matthew 17, Jesus’ disciples were confronted with a similar scenario. A father had brought his demon-tormented son for healing. The disciples tried to free him from the demons and failed.

However, Jesus didn’t say healing wasn’t available. He didn’t rebuke them for lack of power, or even say that the “timing wasn’t right” for the boy.

He said, “Because of your little faith”, or as some translations put it, doubt.

“Little faith”, or “oligopistos” in the Greek, is a compound word Jesus invented and used often when speaking of the apostles. The way we see Jesus using the “little” part of the word was not to be understood as many Christians take it today. He didn’t mean small as in size or even weak as in power. It was more like a short amount of time.

This is why after pointing out the apostles' little faith, Jesus says: “This kind only comes out by prayer and fasting.” It’s not because the demon was too strong or they needed “more” faith, but because their doubt, their “little faith”, was too short to persist.

It was faith that fizzled. 

Faith that got talked out of truth because it felt the results were taking too long, so they gave up.

They needed to replace their doubt with something else…

Thankfully, the disciples didn’t stay trapped in “little faith” forever.

Yes, they stumbled in Matthew 17. They gave up too soon, talked out of truth by the delay of a result they couldn’t see yet. Fast forward to the book of Acts though and everything changes.

Peter commands a lame man to walk without a hint of hesitation. Paul heals with handkerchiefs. Miracles become so common the authorities panic.

So what changed?

They stopped looking for proof.
They believed because Jesus already said it was done.

They learned delay isn’t God’s doing. It’s the enemy stalling.
And real faith doesn’t give the devil the satisfaction.

When Jesus said “because of your little faith,” He wasn’t talking about quantity or volume. He meant duration. Staying power. Faith that doesn’t quit early. That’s the kind of faith that faltered.

The key is removing doubt by developing the right type of faith.

Across the New Testament, we see faith distinguished as three types:

“Little” faith folds if it doesn’t feel different.
“Great” faith persists regardless of feelings.
“Now” faith declares: “It is finished. I know who I am in Christ. This will happen!”

Now faith is what the apostles learned to move in, just like we can.

It’s a faith that doesn’t require the person being prayed for to confirm God’s truth.
It doesn’t rely on symptoms to tell the story.
It doesn’t take silence as a verdict.

It keeps commanding.
Keeps declaring.
Keeps standing.

Not in desperation.
But in confidence.

When “little faith” no longer works, the enemy reaches for his backup plan: religious tradition.

Not all tradition is bad. But the kind Jesus warned us about, the kind that “nullifies the Word of God” (Mark 7:13), is tradition built on failure.

It’s what people say when they don’t see healing.

“Well, maybe it’s not God’s will.”
“Maybe God is trying to teach us something through this.”
“Maybe the miracle was spiritual, not physical.”

None of these statements are found in the Gospels.
All of them were created by disappointment.

Most people who repeat these statements aren’t being malicious. They’re sincere. They’re simply trying to defend God’s character.

When healing doesn’t manifest, and they’ve been taught that God is in origin of everything including sickness, what else can they conclude?

If God is sovereign, and someone stays sick, then it must mean God chose not to heal… right?

Unless what we’ve been unpacking all along is true:

Without that framing, people are left to explain pain with theology. They turn to what they’ve heard. They reach for tradition. And in doing so, they try to shield themselves and others from the sting of what feels like rejection.

“It wasn’t God’s will” sounds more comforting than
“We gave up too soon,”
or,
“I didn’t realize I had the authority”

Traditions of man form where identity is unclear and theology is undeveloped. Once they take root, they don’t just pacify doubt. They protect it.

They give people a reason to stop standing.
A reason to say, “Maybe healing isn’t for everyone.”
A reason to fold and call it faith.

But when you compare these excuses to Jesus’ life and ministry, they crumble.

Jesus never told someone, “Not today.”
He never pointed to a deeper lesson, or a greater good, or a divine plan that involved keeping someone sick.

He rebuked storms. He touched lepers. He opened blind eyes and straightened crippled backs.
And He never failed.

So when we face resistance, like with Sarah where healing didn’t manifest immediately, we need to remember:

God isn’t the one hesitating.
The devil is the one hoping you’ll accept a lie.
And the lie often comes dressed in spiritual sounding language.

So what do you do when you’ve commanded healing, but nothing seems to change?

You don’t shift into doubt.
You don’t change your mind about God’s finished work.
You avoid the trap of repeating well-meaning religious excuses to explain it.

You listen.

Not for symptoms.
Not for feelings.
But for the voice of the Holy Spirit.

When symptoms linger, it’s easy to keep commanding like a broken record: hoping repetition might force a breakthrough, rather than trusting in Christ’s finished work.

But Jesus never begged. He never moved from desperation.

He spoke with authority and listened for the Father’s leading. So should we.

In some moments, the Spirit might prompt you to keep declaring, to keep laying hands, like Jesus did for the blind man in Mark 8:23-25.

In other moments, He may say, “It’s done, now stand in faith” even though you haven’t “seen” anything change yet, like how Jesus didn’t need to see the Roman centurion’s servant to know he was healed in Matthew 8:5-13.

That’s the transition point, from commanding to standing.

And it’s one of the most critical distinctions in walking out healing. The temptation is always to measure success by what we see, not by the Word.

Real faith doesn’t look at symptoms to find truth.
It looks to Jesus.

And when Christ says the check is cleared, we trust Him no matter what the enemy would say.

Remember Sarah?

She’s still waiting.
Still hurting.
Still being told by well-meaning people that maybe it’s not her time.

But you know better now.

You’ve seen the truth of Scripture.
You’ve confronted the lies of tradition.
You understand the difference between little faith and now faith.

So you step forward again.

And this time, your confidence isn’t in the result, it’s in the One who already secured it.
Your authority doesn’t come from how loud you pray or how perfect you feel.
It comes from the blood that already paid for her healing.

So you take her hand.

You pause, not to find the right words, but to realign with the truth.

Then you command:

“In Jesus’ name, I command this body to align with the truth.
Christ already paid for Sarah’s healing. Nothing can deny it.
The kingdom of God is here.
Sickness, out!
Body, be healed!
Amen.”

You then listen for the Spirit and command again if instructed.
And when the Spirit says ‘this is done,’ you stand in faith.

Not shaken by what you see.
Not swayed by what others say.
Not moved by delay.

Jesus didn’t tell us “wait and see if this works”
He told us to believe and assert God’s kingdom.

And that’s exactly what you’ve done.

Until next time,
Addison

This article is part of a four-part Bigger Than Me series on healing—meant to be read together.

If this final issue in the series stirred something in you, I recommend revisiting or catching up on any parts you may have missed:

Each piece builds on the last, helping you move from understanding to confidence without pressure.