‘But for you who fear My name, the sun of righteousness will rise with healing in its wings, and you will go out and playfully jump like calves from the stall.’ Malachi 4:2

Like warm rolls from the oven, we all need the Father’s healing touch. His is the big coat wrapped around you when the north wind hits hard. When the enemy gets brutal, He’s the wrestler of our tag team.
He rises with healing in His wings to fan the flames of healing for each wound of
the staggering,
the wandering,
the torn,
the ragged,
the addicted,
the grieving,
the broken,
the desperate,
the tightrope walker,
the heartfelt,
the artist,
the soulful.
We are His. We belong to Him, He belongs to us.
He heals. Ask.