Where's My Healing?

          People often ask me if I've ever prayed for healing, and I'm quick to tell them that, believe me, I've been to my fair share of healing services in years past.  But there's one particular time of prayer for healing I'll never forget.  It was back in the early 70's. Not long after I got out of the hospital a group of us went to an old, picturesque country church with a steeple, not far from home.  Friends, family, church leaders, elders, pastors, I had asked them all to come to pray for my healing, and they did. 

            Then, as the summer rain beat down on the church roof, some people read specific promises from the Bible about healing.  And they seemed so clear to me!  Like this one from the book of James, Is any one of you sick?  He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord.  And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up.

            After we read, they anointed my head with oil.  Then oh how we prayed -- the hands of many on my head, hands on my shoulders; such fervent prayer, with tears; such faith in that room.  We asked God to glorify Himself by allowing me to walk again.  And I'm telling you, we believed it would happen.  When we finished praying, we wiped our eyes -- I didn't get right up out of the wheelchair right then, but even though a friend said "Rise in the name of Jesus", even though I didn't walk I figured that was okay because the Bible says of the ten lepers, "As they went, they were cleansed."  So I thought that as I went my healing might be a little later on.

            Leaving the little church with my prayer team, I felt humbled by it all.  Exiting through the front door, it was as if heaven gave us this glorious 'amen'.  The rain had stopped, the parking lot was flooded with golden light, the puddles looked like molten gold, and a majestic rainbow burned across the sky in the distance.  As our car drove away, I kept whispering, "Thank You, Jesus!  Thank You, Lord," over and over again.  I was convinced my healing had begun.  The feeling I knew would return.  The strength would come.  I would soar on wings of eagles.  I would run and not grow weary.  I would walk and not faint.  Nothing happened that evening, but my faith was undaunted.  I still woke up the next morning with strong expectation.  This would be the day, I was convinced!  Okay, well maybe tomorrow.  Or maybe it's by the weekend, or next week, or next month, then the next and on and on. 

            And now, 40 years later - 40 years - friend, my fingers and my feet still are paralyzed.  But in a very real way, God did more than I could possibly ask or imagine that rainy afternoon in church many years ago.  Back then, I asked for something so earthly, so transitory and physical and temporal, like feet that would walk.  But God answered me with something so heavenly, so eternal and infinite and spiritual, like a heart that can rejoice in the all-surpassing grace of God, my great Savior.  And joy like that?  Satisfaction like that?  Well, friend, to me, it's the best and only kind of healing, the kind of healing that beats running any day. 

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