Amazing Grace: My Story, Healing

NOTE: Read ­Amazing Grace: INFO before reading this post!

As my profile says, I was in a wheelchair for about three years...
It all started when I was eleven years old. We had just moved back to our old hometown, three hours away north, and into an apartment on the second floor of an old building. Then shortly after we moved in the Arthritis decided to flare-up, as the doctor’s call it (it means your joints get fat with fluid, and mad sore at every movement. So, basically, your body does the same thing it does with allergies: it over-reacts. In this case your own joints and the surrounding muscles are attacked, for little to no apparent reason!)

My hips got the brunt of it. But so did several other joints; and if a joint on the right side was under attack, the left one was too, and vise-versa. The middle finger on both hands, both wrists, both big toes, both ankles, and both knees where all hit together and hard, hurt most of the time, and most where eventually permanently damaged (i.e. partially or completely subluxed); meanwhile almost all my other joints where effected at various times in minor ways, and also permanently effected though not as obviously damaged.

It was not easy. I have had this problem since I was diagnosed with it at eighteen months old; I’ve developed a high tolerance of pain…but that only applied to the joints, not the heart; I felt rejected and left out. In such a short time, we had moved. I had left my friend’s, we were stuck in the second floor of an building which only had stairs leading to it, and I had no way to get out and relate with new people or “hang out” with my sister, and best friend, anymore. We had not been there very long, before I needed help to get around, and by the time I was twelve—only a few months after we moved—I needed a wheelchair!

We moved into a house, shortly after that. It was a ranch house, and my dad quickly put in the short ramps necessary for me to get in and out of the back door. I still struggled with not feeling as though I fit in, but in part, it was probably my shyness and how content I seemed to just sit and watch…At any rate, shortly after the move, I felt the call from God to be a missionary; especially the call to Mexico. Also, I had always wanted to attend the Bible College my parent’s worked at; most of the buildings were not handicap accessible, and some where considered historical and thereby unable to easily or cheaply be made handicap accessible.

I may have never stopped believing that God would heal me. Nor did I stop praying for it. And fighting for it. And getting frustrated that it had not happened yet. Constantly I wondered what else I could do, what system I could follow (forgiveness? More faith? What?) that would finally bring my healing to pass! I mean, what was left? What had I not tried?

I still remember the one night we had a youth meeting. I do not remember if it was a Friday or Saturday night, and if it was just a “hang out” event or if it was supposed to be a Bible study, but I do remember being there. At least in person, though mostly not in spirit or thought…I was sitting there, but in my head and heart I was hashing it out with God. All my arguments, all my frustration. And especially, the why’s—why had I not been healed yet? I was rather certain I had tried everything I knew to try: I had been prayed for several times, I continued to believe, I searched my heart for all kinds of junk like unforgiveness or anything. I had been scolded for not having enough Faith (yet I kept telling my doctor I would not have hip surgery because I knew God would heal me; though there were times I doubted even my own words, I could not back down now or what testimony would that be of God?). I had heard all kinds of sermons on diseases. Looked at several books by the third year I was in the wheelchair (a mixed blessing and curse of working in the library!). Yet, still, nothing!

So I gave up. Literally! Told God that. That was it. No more! Didn’t know what else to do; what else was there?!

Then Sunday, January 7, 2001, came. Teen Church was a struggle; I constantly fought over wanting to be healed, sensing God wanted it, and yet I wanted to stop focusing on it and just relax in God’s presence, focus on Him and praise Him during the service. By the end of the service, I believe I did finally focus on God. Then I forgot all about the struggle…for a couple hours. Then I was alone in my bedroom, after lunch sometime, and feeling frustrated again. Such a short time left to the day, almost Youth Group time back at church, and yet I had really thought God wanted to heal me that day. Yet still nothing! Well, I carried that frustration to our Youth Meeting. And there, eventually, I gave it all up, once again...

Yet, God did not give up!
See, in the end, it is always all about God. His Glory! He will not compete with our methods. Nor be defined or put in a box. What might have worked for one person—one who wrote a book on how you too can be healed—might not work for the next. Why? Because God is not about methods! He’s a jealous God; it is all about Him!

Yeah, in the end, a friend named Grace felt the Lord led her to pray for me. The youth all gathered around and our pastor prayed. Afterward, our pastor asked me to stand up just to try; there is nothing wrong with trying, after all, for the worse case would be that nothing had happened. As it turned out, though all during the prayer time, my right hip and my left knee had been serious pain, when I stood it was all instantly gone! And to the pastor’s surprise I let go of his helping hands, and walked on my own…I have been walking ever since!

And it was all God!

Praise God! In the end, there was absolutely nothing I did that made it happen! Praise God that He still performs miracles, and chooses to be glorified using us!