Through Christ’s suffering on the cross, God has made provision not only for the salvation of humankind, but alsofor the healing of physical infirmities. “By His stripes [the wounds He received when He was whipped] we are healed.”1
Pain is a touch of hell; healing is a touch of heaven. Healing is a sample of everlasting life, renewal of the body, cure of disease. It’s a touch of resurrection.
For the longest time I tried to figure out the hows, whys, and whens of divine healing. I wanted to be able to boil everything down to a step-by-step, one-two-three healing formula so I could say, “If you want to get healed, all you have to do is follow these steps.” But I finally concluded that it doesn’t work that way.
If two people followed the same steps, one might get healed and the other might not. No two people are exactly alike, and God works differently in each of our lives—not only in the matter of healing, but also in our circumstances, the lessons He teaches us, the tests He puts us through, and the blessings He gives.
(By Chuck Delgado, as told to Nyx Martinez)
When I first met a couple of volunteers from the Family International some years ago and they needed a place to stay, I invited them into my home. Ididn’t immediately grasp everything they told me about Jesus, however, and remained skeptical.
Then something happened that changed all that.
I was once asked to pray for a young woman who had been eight long years in bed, a total invalid, pitiful and hopeless. The doctors had finally said they could do nothing more for her.
My husband and I visited this woman and her family, staying with them for ten days and spending many hours in prayer. I kept thinking, Oh Lord, so many people have prayed with her, including some with gifts of God’s healing. I felt very desperate and very small before so great a need.
The day of miracles is not past. God is still alive, well, and working just as powerfully as ever amongst those who trust in Him. He says, “I am the Lord, I do not change.”1
To heal is a small thing for the God of all creation. If He created the body, He can certainly fix it. He says, “I am the Lord, the God of all flesh. Is there anything too hard for Me?”2
I was shaking and had the chills. My vision faded in and out. The living room was on the second floor, and as I staggered up the stairs, I wasn’t sure that I would make it. I collapsed on the top stair, not moving, trying to will the dizziness and nausea away. I somehow managed to drag myself onto the couch, where I lay, every muscle in my body shaking. I was having convulsions. I tried to stop myself from shaking so hard, but when I tried to control my limbs and chest, my teeth began to chatter and my head throbbed. I tried to ride it out. Instead of getting better, it got worse—and I was home alone.
The need for healing, great or small, at some time or another, is universal. That’s just a fact of life. And that’s probably why Jesus spent so much of His time on earth healing the sick. The four Gospels are full of accounts of miracles of healing that Jesus performed—lepers were cleansed, the blind received sight, the mute talked, the lame walked, and the dead were raised to life again. “Great multitudes followed Him,” we are told, and He was “moved with compassion” and “healed them all.”1
I can’t remember a time in my childhood when I wasn’t stuttering.One of my earliest memories is of my mom telling me, “Slow down. Talk slowly.” Every sentence was difficult. Sometimes it took me ten minutes to gather my courage to ask someone what time it was. I dreaded the thought of having to speak to strangers. It was hard enough for me to talk to my family and friends. People told me that they didn’t notice it much, but that was because I avoided talking. When I couldn’t get around it, I chose my words carefully, saying as little as possible and getting it over with as quickly as possible to avoid the embarrassment, the frustration, the sympathetic looks.