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Deborah Rustad

Deborah Rustad Facebook ad: “Let the Bible heal stress”

Deborah Rustad Facebook ad: Let the Bible heal stress

Running for 49 days since September 13, 2026. Crush last saw it on November 1, 2026.

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I've walked with the Lord for over 40 years. Three months ago, a single word in a verse I've read a hundred times stopped me cold. I'm 59. I've led the women's Bible study at my church for eleven years. My faith isn't something I practice, it's who I am. Which is why I can't believe it took me this long to see what I'm about to share with you. For the last two years, I'd been quietly suffering. Not an illness. Nothing I could point to. Just a body wound tighter and tighter by the life I carry. My mother is 84. I manage her appointments, her medications, her moods. My phone stays on loud at night in case the call comes. My kids are grown, but a mother never clocks out. I'm the one everybody in my family casts their cares on. And I cast mine on the Lord. Every morning. Every night. But somewhere along the way, my body stopped getting the message. Jaw tight by ten in the morning. Shoulders up around my ears. A chest that never fully unclenched, even on good days. Snapping at people I love over nothing, then hating myself for it. Tired but wired all day, then wide awake at 2am with my mind running laps. I prayed about it. Every night, I asked God to quiet my mind. I even went to my doctor. She ran the full bloodwork. Everything came back normal. "You're just carrying a lot of stress. Try to relax more." I drove home and cried in the driveway. If everything was normal, why didn't I feel normal? Then came that Tuesday morning. I was preparing that week's study. Proverbs 17. "A merry heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." - Proverbs 17:22. I've read that verse dozens of times before. But that morning, the word bones would not let me go. Not "a broken spirit weighs on the heart." Not "troubles the mind." Dries the bones. It felt like a nudge I wasn't supposed to ignore. So I did something I'd never done in 40 years of reading. I started searching what bones actually mean in Scripture. What I found floored me. Bones are mentioned in the Bible well over a hundred times. I lost count. And almost every time, they mean far more than a skeleton. When David carried a hidden anguish, he wrote: "When I kept silent, my bones wasted away through my groaning all day long." - Psalm 32:3 When Scripture describes comfort, it says: "Gracious words are a honeycomb, sweet to the soul and healing to the bones." - Proverbs 16:24 "Good news gives health to the bones." - Proverbs 15:30 "Fear the Lord and turn from evil. This will bring health to your body and nourishment to your bones." - Proverbs 3:7-8 Do you see the pattern? I couldn't unsee it. Over and over, Scripture puts your inner life in your bones. Anguish wastes them. Worry dries them. Comfort and good news heal them. In Hebrew, the word for bone, etsem, is nearly the same as the word for your very self. When Scripture says something reaches your bones, it means it has reached the deepest part of you. And then I remembered the most famous bones in the whole Bible. An entire valley of them. When God wanted to show Ezekiel a people crushed by despair, a people who said "our hope is gone", He didn't show him broken hearts. He showed him dry bones. I sat back in my chair. Why, out of everything in the body, does God's word keep pointing at the bones? I couldn't shake the feeling that He had been trying to show me something for years. So I kept digging. And what I found across history made me put my coffee down. For thousands of years, worn down people have been drawn to the same remedy without ever knowing why. The Romans built entire cities around mineral springs, and sent their weary and their wounded to soak in them. In the 1600s, the town of Epsom in England became famous across Europe because people who bathed in its bitter waters came out calmer and slept like children. And for as long as anyone can remember, people have traveled to float in the Dead Sea, the saltiest, most mineral-rich water on earth, sitting right there beside the promised land. Different centuries. Different continents. No way to compare notes. All drawn to the same waters. All finding the same calm. Nobody understood WHY the waters worked. They just knew they did. As if the knowledge had been placed inside them. Then scientists finally tested those waters. And every one of them, the Roman springs, the Epsom baths, the Dead Sea, was saturated with the same thing. One mineral. Magnesium. Here's what modern research has confirmed about it. Magnesium is what your nervous system uses to switch off. It's the off signal for a racing mind, a clenched jaw, a heart that jumps when the phone rings. And long term stress burns through it faster than almost anything else. Stress spends it. Constant stress spends it constantly. But here's the part that stopped me cold. Where does your body store its magnesium? Less than one percent of it is in your blood. More than half of it is in your bones. Your bones are the reservoir. The same frame that holds you up all day is quietly storing the very mineral your nerves need to stand down at night. We say "fearfully and wonderfully made", Psalm 139:14, like it's a greeting card. That morning it read like an engineering report. And when stress keeps draining you, your body pulls magnesium out of your bones to keep going. Quietly. For years. It drains the reserves to keep you upright. A broken spirit, drying the bones. I read all of this and just sat there at my kitchen table. Two years of worry. Two years of prayers. Three thousand years before anyone owned a microscope, His word had described exactly what a crushed spirit does to a body. God had been pointing at the answer the whole time. I just wasn't seeing it. And then the next thing hit me, and this one was personal. It's why my bloodwork came back "normal." The blood test only sees that one percent. And your body sacrifices everything to keep that one percent looking fine, pulling from the bones so the blood never shows the shortage. The test was reading the checking account. The debt was in the vault. My doctor wasn't lying when she said everything looked fine. She just couldn't see where the drought was. If you've ever sat in a paper gown and been told everything looks normal while you feel like you're unraveling, it was never in your head. It just doesn't show up where they were looking. Here's something else I found. Hospitals still reach for magnesium today, quietly, when it matters most. Walk into a delivery ward or a cardiac unit and you'll find magnesium drips hanging by the beds. When the body is in crisis, it's one of the first things they give. They know what it does. They rely on it when lives are on the line. But nobody runs commercials for a mineral. It can't be patented. There's no fortune in telling you about something God already put in the ground. So no one does. And modern life cut us off from it in every other way too. The mills strip most of it out of our flour and never mention what they removed. Decades of hard industrial farming have drained it from the soil our food grows in. Nobody takes the waters anymore. The springs became spas. The Epsom baths became a forgotten bag at the back of the cupboard. Think about how Scripture describes the promised land. Wheat and barley. Vines and fig trees. Lentils. Almonds. Seeds. Modern nutrition ranks those exact foods among the richest natural sources of magnesium on earth. He stocked His creation with it. Every generation before us topped up their reserves daily without knowing it. The provision didn't fail. We paved over it. And now we get less magnesium than any generation in history, not even half what our mothers got, while carrying loads our mothers never carried. Nothing is wrong with you. Something is missing from you. For days after finding all of this, I kept asking myself one question. How do you put back what two years of worry has drained? Now, maybe you're thinking exactly what I thought. "I've tried magnesium. Nothing happened." So had I. There's a drawer in my bathroom with the proof. Big chalky capsules I choked down for two months. A powder that promised calm. All half used. All still there. Here's what I didn't know then. Not all magnesium is the same. Most forms never make it to where the problem actually lives. The racing mind isn't in your stomach. It's in your brain. There is one form that crosses the blood brain barrier. It's called magnesium bisglycinate, and it's why absorption is up to 90 percent. It doesn't just get into your body. It reaches the part of you that won't stand down. Whatever was in those capsules, it never got there. That's why nothing happened. Not because magnesium doesn't work. Because it never arrived. One last thing held me back, and I suspect it might be holding you back too. Part of me felt like I shouldn't need this. Like a stronger believer would pray the worry away. If that's you, hear me. "Be anxious for nothing", Philippians 4:6-7, is an invitation, not an exam. A worried mind is not a failed faith. He built your bones to store what your nerves need. He filled the land and the waters with it. I wasn't replacing prayer. I was putting back what He always meant to be there. So I went looking for bisglycinate. That search was more frustrating than the discovery. Labels that say one thing and mean another. Blends. Buffered this and proprietary that. Capsules everywhere, when capsules were exactly what had already failed me. Then one evening I came across a comparison where they'd tested over 50 of the popular magnesium brands against each other. Absorption, purity, dose, the works. Although I was skeptical I don't believe I found it by accident. I picked the one that came out on top and ordered that night. The first week, honestly, not much. I'd promised myself I'd give it a month. Somewhere in week two, I woke up and the room was light. I hadn't seen 2am. I hadn't seen 3am. I lay there confused, waiting for the catch. I told myself not to get excited. One good night after two hard years means nothing. But by week three, the changes showed up in the daylight, which is where I actually live. I caught my shoulders down where they belong. The phone rang and my heart didn't jump ahead of it. My mother told me a story I'd heard four times, and I just let her tell it. Small things. But when you have prayed about something every morning and every night, small things feel like answered prayers. Then my mother said something on the phone that undid me a little. "You sound like yourself again." She'd noticed before I had. I didn't need her to say anything else. That was three months ago. I still worry. I'm a mother and a daughter. Worry is part of the job description. But the wire-tight feeling is gone. The jaw, the chest, the 2am laps. I carry the same load I've always carried. It just doesn't feel like it's carrying me anymore. "A merry heart is good medicine, but a broken spirit dries the bones." - Proverbs 17:22 Two years of worry. Two years of prayers. And the answer had been written into His word — and woven into His creation — the whole time. I used to read that verse like poetry. Now I read it like a warning. And a mercy. If you're the one everybody leans on, and your body has started keeping score, if you've been told everything looks normal while you feel anything but, know exactly where you are. I've linked the comparison below. It's the one I used, and it's how I finally chose right after years of choosing wrong. Go and see it for yourself 👇 https://spnutrition-us.com/pages/advertorial-magnesium

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Let the Bible heal stress

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