Beneath His Healing Wings
During this Advent season, I heard a sermon that landed a little differently than Christmas sermons usually do. It lingered with me. It stayed. The passage was from Luke 1, where Zechariah is praising God and prophesying over his long-awaited son, John. He says:“Because of the tender mercy of our God, whereby the sunrise shall visit us from on high to give light to those who sit in darkness and in the shadow of death, to guide our feet into the way of peace.” (Luke 1:78–79)
Zechariah is echoing words from the prophet Malachi, the last prophet before Christ, who wrote:
“But for you who fear my name, the sun of righteousness shall rise with healing in its wings. You shall go out leaping like calves from the stall.” (Malachi 4:2)
We can all picture leaping calves—little animals bounding around in joy, carefree and safe. That image feels hopeful and bright. And yet, when your soul is hurting, it can feel like an impossible dream. One day, your heart whispers, but not today.
What caught my attention, though, was that phrase: the sun with healing in its wings. It feels strange at first—almost like a mixed metaphor. What does the sun have wings for?
My pastor shared insight from a sermon by Jonathan Edwards, who compared the “gospel day” of Christ’s coming to the rising of the sun. Scripture uses this imagery again and again:
- “For it is you who light my lamp; the LORD my God lightens my darkness.” (Psalm 18:28)
- “The LORD is my light and my salvation; whom shall I fear?” (Psalm 27:1)
- “For the LORD God is a sun and shield…” (Psalm 84:11)
- “Light dawns in the darkness for the upright…” (Psalm 112:4)
- “The people who walked in darkness have seen a great light…” (Isaiah 9:2)
And Jesus Himself says, “I am the light of the world.” (John 8:12)
Edwards explains the “wings” of the sun this way: in ancient language, the rays or beams of the sun were described as its wings—stretching out as it “flies” across the sky. Those beams bring light, warmth, and healing to everything they touch. Darkness can’t stop them. Cold can’t resist them.
Have you ever walked outside after being inside with the air conditioning blasting and just thawed? That’s what I call it. Everything that was curled in on itself relaxes. Your body opens up to the warmth without effort. You don’t make it happen—you just stand there and receive it.
That image has changed the way I think about Christ as our light. I used to think of light simply as the removal of darkness. But the sun doesn’t just push darkness away—it warms, heals, revives, and brings life. It comforts what has gone cold.
As we step into a new year, expectations can feel heavy—especially in grief. There are dates on the calendar we dread, fears about whether we have the strength to face what’s ahead, and questions about how we’re supposed to keep going.
My prayer for us this year is simple: that we would allow Christ to be our sun. Just as the sun’s beams warm us when we are coldest, may His presence gently meet us where we are.
All we have to do is step into His light. Stand. Wait. Lift our faces toward Him.
We have a loving Father who is as constant as the rising sun, whose mercy never fails, and whose love stretches farther than we can see. As this new year begins, will you lift your face toward Him and let His healing wings warm your weary heart?
- Constance
Hope Mom to Baby Ray
I am a wife to Phil and mama to two girls here on earth. My first baby I lost to miscarriage in 2014. We live in Flower Mound, TX. We homeschool and I serve as Hope Mommies Creative Director as well as a freelance Graphic Designer.
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