I don't even know how to start this blog. I am at a loss for what to say. All I can muster is, Jesus heals.
I have stared at this blank screen several times this month, but now here I am, on my last night in Swaziland, hoping words will finally come out.
This month two of my dearest friends were struck with malaria. A sickness I will never joke about again. I truly thought death was a possibility.
Seeing my friends in so much pain with no relief in the sketchy African hospitals was horrible. I just wanted someone to help them, and it seemed like no one was.
What I didn't realize was that I was asking the wrong people for help.
The sickness got worse and escalated to the point where I witnessed one of my best friends go through a seizure. Chaos followed as the event was so unexpected. From outside a man in a white shirt was rushed in; an american missionary who simply prays for patients. In the moments of fear, chaos, and confusion he helped show us how to get on our knees and seek the true Healer. The calmness he carried filled the room. He prayed over my teammate with compassion yet authority; gentleness yet boldness.
And I watched as my teammate was healed.
Doctors still hadn't responded to the emergency as she began responding to the man. Listening and obeying his commands. Acknowledging her name and beginning to calm. She was calm as were the rest of the us when the man suggested we continue to read scripture until the healing was finished.
I have never stood in the awe that I did during those ten minutes. Jesus was in that room. There was no medicine or doctors to point to for the glory. It was only Him. We were crying out for Him to help.
The following hours were the scariest of my life. I have never prayed with the resolve and passion I did in those hours. I learned what it meant to pray without ceasing.
I murmured the same six words over and over again into the wee hours of the morning as I sat in the chair between my two teammates beds on watch duty.
No tremors; no seizures; no nausea.
That was all that my brain could manage to formulate. Any sudden movement or moan I thought was going to be the chapter opening back up.
But no.
My Jesus healed my teammates.
The tremors ceased as we realized the body was simply trying to warm itself. There were no seizures in that room again. My other teammate slept through the night for the first time in a week; no nausea.
The next morning I headed out to get people praying. Over the next days, I saw a domino effect circle the world as literally thousands of people were praying for these girls. The improvements they made were remarkable.
They stabilized enough to be moved to nicer hospitals; one girl to another local hospital and the other to a south african hospital.
The more people prayed, the more good news we received.
And a mere 48 hours later from hospitals in different countries, after ivs, icus, many medicines and Gods mighty healing hand, both girls were released; Jesus healed them.
This week was the hardest of my life, but all I can do is praise Jesus for showing up in such a big way, for being a healer and answerer of prayer.
He is the same God from the bible. The same healer, lover, and answerer.
So when you need help lift your eyes. He is our help.
