Healing is a finicky topic for me.
I do my best to dance around it when brought up in discussions, and I tread lightly when the topic inadvertently cannot be avoided. I almost always end the discussion with the same statement. “God chooses who He does and doesn’t want to heal. We have no control over the situation, it’s not up to us.”
Yes, it’s true…but mostly it’s a cop out statement that I say to appease the pain and comfort my soul. I’m hurt that I haven’t received full healing from Him myself. It’s like He is withholding it from me on purpose to teach me a lesson.
(My face the morning I woke up with Bell’s Palsey, where the right side of my face was completely paralyzed.)
A few months ago, I received a text from my Guatemala teammate, Gabe. He was organizing a two-week vision/mission trip to the closed island of Cuba, and there was an invitation for me to join the team. I took a few weeks to ask the Lord if I was supposed to accept this invitation or not. Then I heard a faint nudge of a whisper promising me that there was something waiting for me in Cuba.
The Lord was inviting me to Cuba to heal and to be healed.
The promise loomed over me for the next few weeks as I tried to combat the pain of the disappointment that had been resurfacing. I was afraid that the Lord would drop me again if I took this leap of faith. It has been two years since I woke up with half of my face paralyzed, and my hope dwindles with every glance in the mirror at my crooked smile.
I knew that my journey with healing wasn’t over. I mustered all the faith that I had left in my small reserve tank and I purchased a round trip ticket to Cuba. I was ready to see what this promise was all about.
(Cuba Team: Michelle, Gabe, Me)
Michelle, Gabe and I landed in Cuba and hit the ground running, all of us eager to bring hope to such an oppressed country.
Our ministry days consisted of house visits starting mid-morning going late into the afternoon. In the evenings, we traveled town-to-town to preach and encourage the local churches.
The first house that we visited, we met a man who had a damaged spine due to years of hard manual labor. Gabe pointed at me and told me I was up. It was my turn to pray that this man would be healed. A short prayer later, the man rejoiced because his back felt better.
House after house, every person that we laid our hands on was healed. Sharp pains in the kidneys disappeared, headaches vanished, stomach cramps subsided, and stiffened joints loosened.
To my surprise, I finished up the house visits with my head hung low. Something in me doubted the legitimacy of each testimony. All the healings were internal. What if they claimed healing in order to save face?
Deep down I knew the reason for my unbelief. The ugly truth reared it’s head again, and pain gripped my heart. I was still mad and hurt by God because I was not healed yet. I’ve had hundred of prayers and prophecies spoken over me that the Lord was going to heal my face, yet none of them were answered or came to pass.
I did not believe that the Lord was who He says He is, that He is a healer. Two years of wrestling with Bell’s Palsy left a deeply rooted lie that God is not able to do the impossible, that’s why my smile still droops.
If I hadn’t received healing yet, why would they?
And if they had received healing, I was hurt because it wasn’t for me.
Yet the promise still loomed over my head, the Lord had called me to Cuba to heal and to be healed. Can the Lord use someone who doesn’t believe in miracles to heal the sick?
The next day, we walked up to the house of a woman named Dalia. Panic spread throughout my body as I watched this woman search under her chair for an avocado with her fingers. A pair of dark sunglasses covered her eyes, pointing out the obvious. She was blind.
The Lord was asking us to heal the blind.
There is no way to save face on this one.
Gabe pointed to me. I was up again.
….Stay tuned for Part 2.
