When we walked into Jhan’s house I wondered what the students were thinking, do they feel uncomfortable entering into this family’s life all of a sudden, is this strange to them, do they feel intrusive? But we entered quietly and took seats on the bed next to Jhan’s. He lay in the dark corner, shadowed by a top bunk above his own resting place, a strategic piece of furniture for this family of 6 in a square house of about 250 sq. ft. We didn’t know what to say at first, so we sat there and let Ofelia take the lead. With her childlike spirit she began to share with Jhan that we were brothers and sisters that had come to encourage him and pray for him, and she shared the good news that Jesus is with him and is his healer and has magnificent plans for his life. Jhan’s mother lifted her chin to share that Jhan had recently given his life to the Lord. Jhan nodded in acknowledgement, a nod of general agreement but not wholehearted enthusiasm. We began to ask Jhan questions to get to know him a little better. How old are you? 15 years old. How did you break your legs? I was in an accident with a mototaxi. What is your dream for your life? I want to work to help my father.
After chatting with Jhan a bit the story came to my mind of the paralytic whose four friends lowered him down through the roof in order for him to meet Jesus and be healed. I asked his mother if she had a Spanish Bible, and thankfully she did. Thank you Lord that your word is in this house. So I read the story to Jhan and asked him if he had ever heard it before. He shook his head no. What a treasure it was to be able to share this story with a young person for the first time, a story I’ve heard so many times that I’ve forgotten that many people have never heard it before, have never even opened up a a Bible. After that we entered into a time of prayer, calling for complete healing for Jhan. I was proud of my students, proud of the vision the Lord gave them as they prayed for Jhan in a way that sought the healing of his whole being—physical, spiritual, emotional, mental. Brandon prayed that, just as Jhan yearned to walk and to work for his earthly father, that he would serve his heavenly father and be able to walk in the power of his Spirit, filled with the knowledge of his love. Brandon also sensed a physical healing touch, like a warm energy that was flowing through Jhan’s legs and Brandon’s hands. After we finished praying we asked Jhan how he felt, and he confirmed that he felt that tingling sensation flowing through his legs.
After we left Jhan’s house we went on a walk up the hillside to get to the next house where we were to visit a woman whose son was recently killed in an accident at a mine somewhere in the provinces. As we climbed the hill I asked Brandon if he had any experience with healing prayer and he explained that he and his friend had read a pamphlet on prophetic prayer published by International House of Prayer (IHOP), but he’s never been through any kind of formal training, though he would like to. Then we got into a really good conversation about healing, and I encouraged him to pursue becoming a healer. Brandon is pre-med at one of the best universities in the country, USC. I told Brandon that what the world needs is doctors that heal the whole person. The world needs healers that recognize and integrate all the aspects of what makes a person human, body, mind, spirit. May Brandon become this type of doctor.
I talk about healing a lot these days. It’s what I yearn for in a world contaminated with so much disease and suffering. I know it exists because I’ve experienced it myself, a healing of my inner wounds, a healing of the relationships in my family, even physical healings in my own body. I believe in far bigger healing than what I’ve experienced personally, and that faith keeps me going.
But if I’m totally honest with myself my greatest fear is burning out as I pursue this healing and transformation. I guess that deep down it’s a fear that God won’t come through. I know I can’t transform anything in and of myself, and I know that God will only do through me what he sees fit to give me in the present moment. But my dreams probably leap ahead and expect much more than my present capacity to contain what God can give me. So I sit in resignation, wondering when I’m going to see a radical miracle for myself. Then I condemn myself for writing such a thing. How can you say that Gracie, you have experienced so many miracles in your life, are these not enough for you? In a way they are enough. But in so many ways they are not, they are not enough to comfort all the kids in Lima whose fathers denigrate their wives and demand money for their drinking habits. They are not enough for the freaking hundreds of thousands of Burmese people who were left to die after the cyclone. They are not enough for the murder that KT and Noretys witnessed in Caracas. I don’t even know what enough would look like, but it’s gotta be better than this. In a way I want my anger at everything that’s wrong with the world to get unleashed. Pure rage. I don’t want to fear it, I want to feel it. I want to feel it without fear that it will drive me into a pit of hopelessness and despair that I can’t climb out of. I want to feel it and still have hope, still have faith, because I know that if I can feel it and pass through without giving into despair, then I will be powerful like a goddess (not trying to be heretical here). I will be resurrected.
