I WITNESSED A MIRACLE TODAY!

By Carol B. Patterson

Heeding the instruction of the pastor, the pretty, well-dressed twenty-six-year-old rose from her seat.

“What is your condition?”

“I have a brain tumor and I also had a stroke.”

She quietly explained that she had been given only six months to live and had been brought to church by a friend—and she knew God was going to heal her. I have two daughters and my heart instantly ached for this girl. I could only imagine the agony of those who cherished her.

“Come here, come out into the aisle.”

There was silence as an air of expectancy filled the room. The pastor was very gentle with her and told her not to be afraid if his voice got a bit loud. “I’m not shouting at you. I’m commanding this sickness to leave you!”

She smiled faintly. From where I sat I had a clear view of her expressions. What a sweet face, so trusting, so completely faith-filled, more questioning than emotional. Her stroke had left her right arm useless and it dangled at her side. Also, her right leg had been affected and she walked with a slight dragging motion. When she spoke, her speech was slow and labored, as well.

This was definitely a moment to be frozen in memory. The anointing was intense, a crystalline, brittle snap of purity and power, reminiscent of the cool, biting winds that cut into my face on the ski slopes years before—never with pain but with forceful awareness, quickening and vitalizing. But beneath the sense of anointing and authority was the warmth of great compassion. Jesus had walked in, wrapped in love and caring and restorative power.

After the pastor prayed, the young lady stood speaking with him quietly—when suddenly her face took on a glow of quizzical awe. Disbelief, mingled with delight, danced across her face. The pastor had his hand on her right arm and she said slowly, “I can feel your hand on my arm.” Then she looked at her arm, again with a puzzled expression. “I can feel your hand on my arm,” she repeated.

“Couldn’t you feel my hand before?”

“No, I couldn’t feel anything.” Then she began to raise the arm, slowly, slowly, but steadily, and she fixed her eyes on it, as though viewing a disembodied appendage that had attached itself to her. Suddenly her expression changed again, reflecting total amazement, her eyes widening.

“Look at my hand!” She slowly moved her fingers, then she made a fist, and her face was dazzling! “Look at my hand. Look what I can do!”

Then she looked down at her foot. “My foot has straightened out! Look! It’s not like it was. I couldn’t walk right. My foot always turned.”

“Well, let’s take a little walk.”

So off they went across the front of the sanctuary, the pastor and his newly-healed friend. The friend who had brought the young woman to church was weeping and laughing at the same time and a good percentage of the congregation was joining in.

“My foot is straight, isn’t it? Look at my foot!”

After they made their way back across the auditorium she said, “My head doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“Did it hurt when you came in?”

“Oh, it’s been hurting for weeks. It hurt all the time; I just got used to it and went ahead and did my work. But it hurt all the time.”

“And it doesn’t hurt now?”

“No! It doesn’t hurt anymore. And look, I can raise my right arm and make a fist. I told my friend that when I could make a fist (I have been in therapy two hours a day for a long time), she was going to be the first one I hit. Come here!” And her friend, who was barely able to stand because of her joy and amazement, hugged her and got a friendly punch on the arm.

I saw all this, close-up and personal, and I felt the sweetness and purity and compassion and power, all wrapped up in one astonishing miracle.

I love miracles! And most of all, I love Jesus because, you see, that’s what happens when He shows up!