Healings make me nervous.
They kind of scare me. I could pretend to be super holy or
righteous and say they don’t. But I would be doing just that, pretending.
Reality is, they kind of weird me out. I get nervous around
them. Because it’s like stepping into this invisible world; like asking for
something impossible to happen. And if it happens, or comes true, then that
makes it even more weird – because it actually happened.
Does anyone get my drift?
This isn’t something that is talked about too often. But
it’s something that I’ve always gone through, so I would think I’m not alone in
this.
This isn’t an attempt to bring justification, pontification,
theological, or rational understanding to this topic. Nope. That’s another blog
for another day. This is just me, sharing some thoughts. Normal thoughts. Not
super spiritual unreachable wisdom. But I do hope that that same deep wisdom is
found in the simple wisdom that I think God has been walking me through lately.
I’ve been studying faith. And how that relates to healing.
It seems pretty necessary. In the healings of the bible, it was pretty
necessary. When Jesus healed people, he sure had faith. I mean, he was Jesus.
He definitely had it in His father whom he knew could heal. That one is kind of
a no brainer. But then what about his disciples? They struggled. And I think
they struggled with faith. And they were Christians, already having said ‘yes’ to following Jesus. And even the people that watched, were onlookers.
Shoot, they struggled – big time! Many people would believe, and come to
commitment in the Lord. And then some would be like, ‘pshhh, that’s evil…or
pshhh, that didn’t really happen….or, pshhh that’s not possible.’ Yet, it was possible.
And then it happened again, and more, even after Jesus left
to go home. It’s like his residue, his acts, actually didn’t disappear. And
then others started to do them. Jesus didn’t take home with him his healings.
That to me is even more weird. I can take it when Jesus, the
almighty son of God, heals a man, a woman, a child. But men, regular simple
plain men, doing the same thing? Nah, that’s just weird.
I’m weirded out by miracles, healings specifically, because
it evokes a fear in me. I’m not fully sure what that fear is. But I get
fearful. It’s like a gasp for air.
It’s like when you’re about to jump off of a cliff into the
ocean, or bunjee jump off the platform, or about to go walk into the interview
room for a new job, or walk on a stage to speak. It’s frightening. It is! But I’m realizing,
is it a bad frightening? Not really. That moment of air gasping is a nervousness, an anticipation that something a
little outside of your bones and skin is about to happen. And maybe something really good.
And healings is just about the biggest type of nervousness I
could get. More so then even asking a girl out! (being honest hear folks:)
It’s because something so supernatural, so outside of my
understanding, is happening. In fact, it’s not supposed to happen. A heart
shouldn’t just be fixed in a moment that was stabbed by a knife in a prior
moment. A stretched ligament in the knee that makes me hobble and barely walk
shouldn’t start to feel better after a prayer and be completely fine in a week.
It should have taken 4 months to heal like it took when this same injury happened
4 years ago and I went through physical therapy. A dead person should
definitely not be able to rise back to life. A girl who professionally dances,
now with an injured foot wearing a boot, should definitely not be dancing on
stage in front of hundreds, boot thrown off, glorifying God minutes after she was prayed for.
That’s why it’s freaky. It’s freaky! (I’m smiling here)
And it’s good! It’s powerful! It’s…crazy weird and awesome!
I don’t know fully why one person is healed and another one
isn’t.
But I do know that it’s possible. Very possible. And that it
happens through faith. And the glory goes to God, not man. In fact, a healing
sweeps man out of the way.
If any man ever puffs himself up because he ushered in a
healing, and he seems prideful – 1st: be weary of that man,
cautious, because he is taking some of God’s glory. 2nd: don’t let
the man, however, block the actual reality that God did heal someone, and don’t
let it steal your own faith.
Healings weird me out. But healings also get me so pumped,
so juiced with excitement. When we’re praying for them I get all nervous
inside, I take that gasp for air in nervousness, but then I hope that faith
supersedes my shallow understanding. Because life is too short for it to be
held back by me. Someone’s healing of a heart, knee, or ankle is too important
for them and to experience God’s presence than for me to stand in the way of that.
Life’s too short. And all I know to do at this point, it seems almost too
elementary, is to joyfully and fearfully believe. Believe! Have faith, in God, the almighty ever present kind comforting God through pain and through wholeness.
“A man lame from birth was laid daily at the Beautiful Gate.
Peter and John said, ‘Look at us. I have no silver and gold, but what I do have
I give to you. In the name of Jesus Christ of Nazareth, rise up and walk!’ And
he took him by the hand, and immediately his feet and ankles were made strong.
And leaping up he stood and began to walk, and entered the temple with them,
walking and leaping and praising God…
…And all the people saw him walking and praising God, and
recognized him as the one who sat at the Beautiful Gate of the temple, asking
for alms. And they were filled with wonder and amazement at what had happened
to him…”
(Acts 3)
