Last month in Guatemala City, I was accompanying my teammate Lexi as she went to get an MRI scan for her knee. She was a walk-in without an appointment, so we had a lot of waiting to do.
We sat there for a while in various rooms, making light conversation and watching some Italian soccer game on the TV. As the room started to empty, an elderly woman in a wheelchair was brought in. A younger woman, who I presumed was her daughter, followed behind, distraught. I didn’t blame her – her mother was barely alert and unable to even sit up.
Not wanting to stare, I turned my attention back to my iPod and the podcast I was listening to. Something was clearly wrong with this woman, but it wasn’t really any of my business.
A few minutes later, Lexi stands up and approaches the two women. “Do you speak English?” She asks the daughter.
“A little bit.”
“Can I pray for her?”
The daughter stands dumbstruck. “Why?”
“I just feel like I should.”
She nods, and Lexi begins to pray for the woman. Now I’ve seen dozens of people pray for dozens of healing and it’s always different. Some people are intense and informal, and sometimes the whole prayer is quoted scripture. Some others will demand healing that has “already been done.” Others humbly ask, and this what Lexi was doing. The woman is wheeled off into the CT scan room, Lexi comes back and sits down afterwards, and that was it.
I had been eavesdropping the entire time, but I said nothing. More time ticked by, and soon enough the woman and her daughter return, with the CT technicians looking utterly perplexed. The woman looks significantly better now – conscious, sitting up straight, an entirely different person than she was a few minutes ago.
The woman, the daughter, and the technicians speak for a moment, and the daughter hugs Lexi. They leave, and this is when we find out the story: her mother had had a stroke. They had brought her here to see the extent of the damage and what steps needed to be taken next. However, when they did the CT, there were no signs of the stroke, and it was clear just by looking at her that she was okay. They told the daughter that she could take her mother to the hospital if she wanted to, but they didn’t feel there was any need to do that.
I was utterly speechless. This woman had come into the facility with a stroke. A stroke. She’d left the place as if it hadn’t happened. This was no misdiagnosis or some confusion. God had healed her.
