in Johannesburg, South Africa, on Tuesday night, September 11th, our squad had one last worship session together. We sang, we danced, we got loved on by Jesus. During a song called “I am set free”, I had my arms raised. it felt like the Holy Spirit was holding them up, and then lowering them gently back to my sides. I had the sensation of holding something weighty in both hands. Then He spoke. “Lay your hands on yourself.”
I hesitated. This wasn’t the first time I’d asked for healing. I’ve had a pinched sciatic nerve for 2 years. I couldn't sit comfortably. I couldn't stand without my leg falling asleep. it hurt to walk, sometimes, it hurt so much that I couldn't sleep. I’ve been to see a chiropractor, I’ve done exercises, and I’ve prayed, and prayed, and prayed. I went to training camp in July, fully expecting to be healed. My squad trainers prayed over me. My squad mates prayed over me.
Nothing.
I knew I would be healed of this, someday. I knew it would be in a way that would bring Him the most glory. I just wasn’t sure how (or when) that would happen, ESPECIALLY after He passed up the chance to heal me when I was with 300 other people.
As I stood there, I thought, “Jesus, that’s not how this works. People are supposed to lay hands on me, and then I get healed…right?”
Besides, what could I expect? I’ve been like the worst Christian ever lately. I hadn’t spent time with Jesus or opened my bible in days. I was feeling so carnal that day, it was depressing.
But again, He said, “Lay your hands on yourself.”
Timidly, I put my hands on my back. “In the name of Jesus, be healed. In the name of Jesus, be loosed.”
Then, another voice spoke up. “You just have to deal with the fact that you might not be healed right now. You can serve God with a hurt back.”
Right on the heels of that voice followed another with Authority, and it came out of my mouth. “Do you have any idea Who you belong to? In the name of Jesus Christ, be healed.”
And then…it didn’t hurt anymore.
Just like that. I was in shock. “That did not just happen.” I leaned back trying to put weight on the nerve. I moved every which way in a manner that would have been excruciating five minutes beforehand. Jesus spoke up again. “Anna, I healed you. Walk in it. Quit acting like it didn’t happen. Go tell Alex.” (Alex is my squad leader.) After struggling for about 30 seconds, I asked Alex if I could share with the squad. I did, and we rejoiced. We praise danced to Lecrae and to Florence and the Machine.
I don’t know why God picked that night to heal me. I DO know these things:
1. It was not because of anything I had done. He showed me that His healing mercy is not limited when I suck.
(2 timothy 2:13)
2. Because of Jesus in me, I have the authority to heal myself and others. So do you.
3. He healed me at the exact time and place that will ultimately bring Him the most glory. I think one of the reasons He waited was to show me He wanted to heal me…just for the sake of me being healed.
(Galatians 5:1)
Bring on the 24 hour bus rides, the hikes through the African bush, and the long waits in all kinds of lines.
I’m healed.
“And it’s hard to dance, with a devil on your back, so shake him off!”
