If you have been following my blog since Month 2 in El Salvador, you will know that I have prayed for a man to be raised from the dead. I put my hand on a dead man's chest and declared, in Jesus name, that he get up and walk. This might sound foolish to some, even as I read back over those words the devil is trying to tell me that I am foolish. "Faith is the willingness to look foolish." (Bill Johnson)
The smell of that dead man is a smell that I will never forget.
That very smell was poignant as I prayed for a man at a hospital here in South Sudan.
Flashbacks of my time in El Salvador were running through my brain, shattering my thoughts and creating deep, bold prayers within my soul.
As we entered a hospital here in South Sudan, the pastor said, "I want you to know how you can be praying for our country when you leave." We have driven by this hospital numerous times and each time I look at it I think to myself, "I cannot imagine being there." I have said it outloud to the men, and it still holds true. I cannot imagine what these people are going through, today my questions turned into reality.
I wont lie, I was excited when I heard we were going to a hospital. "Finally," I thought to myself. As we were leaving I asked one of my brother's from E-squad if he was coming. He said, "I don't like hospitials. I have bad memories there" I replied with, "Well let's change that."
Once we entered the door in the picture above, a sense of abandon hit me.
It felt like a place that people came to die.
Nothing about that place set right in my soul, but something stirred within the deepest places of my heart.
Chase said, "I saw you come alive today." That was because I have seen my Heavenly Father heal my wounds, physically and spiritually. And, I knew He was ready to do that for every single person in this hospital wing. There were beds lined up the wing with only enough room for someone to walk on each side of the beds. We decided to split the group of eight men into teams of two and pray for each person in that hospital wing. As Chris and I began our journey, the smell of the room was familiar, but I couldn't quite recall why it smelled so familiar.
In my life, I haven't experienced much death. I have lost two of my great-grandparents from my Dad's side and more from my mother's side, but I was only a small boy when it happened. I lost my next door neighbor Mr. Dee's a few years ago, but I was too lost down my own wreckless path that I didn't even come to his funeral. So death hasn't been something I have had to encounter often.
I'm not sure if many people know of the smell that I am speaking about while I tell this story. In America, the dead are "fixed up" before we are able to see them again. That isn't the case in these poor countries, death is seems more real.
It's exposed.
I am in no way trying to downplay death, but what I have experienced is hard to process, hard to get your hands around it.
Chris and I prayed for a small boy, named Martin. A boy suffering with a bad case of Malaria that seemed to be hinged with stomach pains and throwing up. I saw faith in his eyes as we prayed for him. He believed Jesus could heal him. Even after I returned to him later on, he seemed more encouraged than ever. It was after him that the familiar smell came to light.
Bed No 21 was written above in black marker. A man who looked like he had been crippled his whole life.
His name was Julius.
As I sat down by his side and grabbed his arm, I noticed that his muscles were just laying on the bed. Like they weren't even attached to his bones anymore. There was a part in his skull that appeared to be sinking inward towards his brain, like his skull had lost it's hardness. His eyes were weak and it didn't look like he had any legs. Even though I saw feet coming out of the bottom of the sheets.
He smelled like the man in El Salvador.
He smelled of death.
Looking back on my life, I never would have thought I could ever say that. That I know the smell of death. It's something that is new to me, but not something I desire to get aquatinted with unless it involves someone walking again in newness of life. It makes me wonder what Jesus went through to raise Lazarus from the dead, the smell is almost poisonous to your nostrils. It burns like the smell of formaldehyde.
Julius had lost all of his motor skills, his voice and seemed to be losing his life when Chris and I met him. Two people were sitting by his side, explaining to us that they didn't know what happened. It had been two weeks, they said. He became sick only two weeks ago, and they couldn't figure out what was wrong with him.
As we prayed for him, I wished I had brought my bible with me. I didn't know what to pray. I was without words and my mind was being flooded with thoughts of the dead man in El Salvador. As I began to pray, I heard the pastor and Chris lifting up bold prayers to the Lord. This encouraged me to continue praying for healing in his body.
It was hard to keep praying for him, but after a few minutes I looked him in the eye. There was desire, there was faith. He wasn't simply giving up…
He was fighting.
I saw a man today who was fighting for his life. He wanted to speak, I saw a desire in him to shout from the rooftops, but something was holding his vocal cords.
In despair, I left his bedside and moved on to pray for another sick person. We prayed for two more people, one of which accepted Jesus as her savior. My heart leaped when the pastor said, "She is ready to pray the prayer of salvation." But even after this, my heart was being ripped towards Julius. I felt as if I had given up on him, knowing there was nothing I could do but pray. I just wanted to stay there by his side and pray until I saw him rise up and walk out of that hospital.
So as we were about to leave, I asked all of the men to come pray for him. I explained the situation quickly and lead them over by his bedside. We began to pray again for him and a silent rumble of men began to life him up in prayer. A battle cry for healing in his body.
That is when God gave me a view into the spiritual realm.
I saw a python wrapping itself around his body.
Strangling the life out of him.
My mindset quickly changed from a prayer of healing into a prayer of release. Often times we are so focused on the physical that we miss the spiritual battle that is happening right in front of our eyes. God is ready to open your eyes to the spiritual but often times we chose to ignore it. We want to make sense of it all and the supernatural just doesn't make any sense.
I wish this story ended with Julius getting out of that bed today but it doesn't. When we left, he was still there.
Fighting for his life.
My heart is still aching to see him walk again. To see his muscles reattach themselves to his bones. Knowing that anything is possible with the faith of a mustard seed. If it is possible, I will go back tomorrow. To pray again if needed or just to see how many people were healed. WIthout a shadow of a doubt, I know people were physically healed today. I saw people who were spiritually healed today.
But mostly because Julius must know that someone else is fighting for him. He saw it today when we prayed for him, and my desire is that he will see it again. If not from me, then from the Father. I pray that his willingness to live is renewed.
We must be persistent with our prayers, they cannot just be shallow prayers that don't hold weight. Your prayers must possess just as much integrity as you possess.
