When the Tents Begin to Fold – Faith Between Healing and Goodbye

Today, I write with a heavy heart. A beloved friend, a dear child of God, has completed her earthly journey. Cancer — that relentless enemy — took its toll on her body, but her spirit remained strong. Now her earthly tent has folded, and we stand in quiet remembrance, grateful for the light she brought into our lives.

I’m reminded of Paul’s words in 2 Corinthians 5:1: “For we know that if the earthly tent we live in is destroyed, we have a building from God, an eternal house in heaven, not built by human hands.”

This life, full of joy, sorrow, and mystery, is temporary. Paul likens our bodies to tents: fragile, exposed, and impermanent. And yet, his words bring deep comfort. This tent isn’t the end. A home—crafted by God Himself—is waiting. Permanent. Eternal.

“The last breath here is the first breath there — not an ending, but a transition from tent to home, from the temporary to the eternal.”

Still, a difficult question lingers: How do we reconcile this hope with Jesus’ command to heal the sick? Didn’t He say, “Lay hands on the sick, and they will recover” (Mark 16:18)? Why hasn’t my friend been healed despite our prayers, faith, and hope?

It’s a sacred mystery—one that has challenged believers for centuries. Sometimes, God heals immediately. Sometimes, He uses medicine, time, and process. And sometimes, with the heaviest kind of mercy, He offers ultimate healing through death. Not because He lacks compassion but because He sees more than we do. He provides a healing that goes deeper than the body—a complete healing.

We live in a world that craves quick fixes and easy answers. But God’s timeline stretches into eternity. His view is wider, His purposes deeper. Faith doesn’t always mean we get the miracle we long for. Sometimes, it means trusting Him even when the miracle doesn’t come.

Jesus wept at Lazarus’s tomb even though He knew resurrection was moments away. That tells us that sorrow isn’t a sign of weak faith. It’s part of being human. Grief doesn’t make God less trustworthy. It makes His nearness more essential.

Today, my friend’s tent is being taken down. Her body is growing weaker, but her eyes are lifted toward the home, which is not made with human hands. I will miss her — every day. But I know this: our true citizenship is in heaven (Philippians 3:20), and our journey doesn’t end with our final breath. It continues — fully, beautifully — when we draw that first breath in the presence of our Savior.

Until that day, I hold on to the Word, hope, and grace. And I remind myself pain doesn’t mean God is absent. The tent may crumble in the dust — but the home stands waiting in the light.

Read: Find Strength in God’s Joy

Written by Brahm van Wyk – A tribute to Han Cilliers (28.03.1972 – 31.05.2025)

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The views expressed herein are those of the presenters and writers, not Radio Pulpit.