I remember the day I sat in the corner of my son's room, desperate tears steaming down my face, my dog's sympathetic eyes looking at me with uncertainty. My son was convulsing in an uncontrollable fit, raging and screaming on the floor. And there was nothing I could do about it. I had no idea how to reach him, to help him, even to get his attention and talk with him. I was utterly helpless and alone. One of my lowest moments in time as a mom. And I was frightened, questioning why, why why? "Why does my son have to be broken and fractured," I pleaded with God through my stifled sobs. 

Matthew 4:23 says: "And Jesus went about all Galilee, teaching in their synagogues, preaching the gospel of the kingdom, and healing all kinds of sickness and all kinds of disease among the people. Then His fame went throughout all Syria; and they brought to Him all sick people who were afflicted with various diseases and torments, and those who were demon-possessed, epileptics, and paralytics; and He healed them."

The word "all" is listed five times in the above passage. In the Greek/Hebrew original language, "all" means "whole." All of the sickness, all of the disease in it's entirety was healed by Jesus. That is the kind of Savior we have. Every kind, the "whole" thing" was taken on the cross. When my son was four we began to believe for healing and I'd walk around saying, "You are healthy, healed and whole!" It became a family motto, even before the healing could be seen by us.

Recently, as I began to teach my same son fractions through play, he kept wanting to call the one, half. That was his fallback and I had to correct him multiple times. 

"No, baby, that's a whole number." Finally I began to say, "And this is the big piece, the one that is healthy, healed and whole." And he'd repeat it after me, "one-half, one-third, one healthy-healed-and-whole."

That's what Jesus can do. He can take the fractured pieces of a business, a marriage, a body, a boy and he can mend them together again. Healthy. Healed. And whole.