Have you noticed the growing trend in our country to question the validity of miracles and God’s power to heal? From newspaper articles to prime-time tv specials, more people than ever are discussing whether God can really perform miracles of healing. Today, I am here to let you know that God does still heal people. How do I know this? I am an example of the healing power of God.
My story begins when I was a sophomore at Bible College. It was the beginning of April. My twentieth birthday was a little over a week away, and final exams were fast approaching. My life for the next few weeks was thoroughly planned. Little did I know that my life was about to take a surprising turn.
It was a bright, sunny Sunday morning the day that it all began. I had made plans to go to church with a few friends. However, when I awoke that morning, I discovered that I was unable to lift my head because of a splitting headache. I was shocked. I was fine the day before, but that morning I couldn’t even get out of bed. I managed to call my friends and let them know I wouldn’t be able to go to church with them. I spent the rest of the day in bed. I was even forced to skip the joy of my life, the small men’s group that I led on campus. I just couldn’t get out of the bed. At least not until the diahreah and vomiting started.
As evening approached, I called my mom and told her how sick I was. The next day she drove two hours to take me from college to the doctor. The plan was to go to the doctor and return to campus the next day. Little did I know that I wouldn’t step foot back on the campus for the rest of the semester.
When I saw the doctor, he diagnosed me with mono and sent me home with some medicine. He told my mom not to worry because I would be fine. However, that night, I developed a very high fever and started bleeding with the diahreah. My mom, being quite concerned, called the doctor again only to be reassured that I would be fine. As it turned out, I kept getting worse.
My older sister had the idea to call her college friend who had mono the year before and see if my symptoms like his. He told her that he felt that the doctor was wrong and I should be taken to the hospital immediately. Within 15 minutes, I got my first ambulance ride, an hour long trek to the nearest hospital.
Once at the hospital, I was admitted immediately. The doctors examined me closely, but were unable to diagnose what was wrong with me. By this time, my temperature had risen and I was somewhat delirious. They finally decided I could have severe case of pneumonia, but they just weren’t sure.
I spent the next day in the hospital. As I lay in the hospital room, my mom would play praise music for me and read me the Bible. She tried to keep me calm so I could get some rest. However, rest was not happening due to the extreme coughing I endured.
My family began to contact people to pray for me. My doctor, who happened to be a Christian, had his church pray. The entire Bible college was praying for me, and the students had their home churches praying. I had believers up and down the east coast united in prayer for me to be healed.
For the next two days, I continued to get worse. I experienced dry heaves, coughing, and a dangerously high fever. The doctors still couldn’t figure out what was wrong with me. They tested me for everything from meningitis to legionaries’ disease. They were even questioning my sexual life to see if I could have a venereal disease. I had never even held a girl’s hand or kissed a girl, so I kept telling them this was not possible. Stumped, they just kept taking more tests.
A pivotal day was the day before my twentieth birthday. My mom, unable to stand the thought of having to go and watch her son die, cried out to God for help. She said at that moment God told her to make my bed because I was coming home. God’s assuring words gave her the strength to face the upcoming day, strength which she would truly need.
That same morning my condition got worse. My white blood cell count was dangerously low and falling, causing my body to not be able to fight any germs. I was moved to intensive care. I was packed in a bed of ice in an effort to lower my temperature. Later, I learned that the doctors feared that the prolonged high fever would leave me brain dead or paralyzed. Completely at a loss and extremely frustrated, the doctors told my parents that they didn’t know if I was going to make it.
The next day was my birthday, and it turned out to be the most dramatic day of my life. My parents arrived at the hospital to news that more tests needed to be taken. However, the tests were extremely dangerous. They needed to drain the fluid from my lungs so that I wouldn’t drown and die. The doctors where unsure if I would survive this procedure. My mom, unsure of what to do, turned to God for help. His answer came in the form of a Christian woman who came and held my mother’s hand as she simply sat with her during my test. Later, my mom said that this was a greater help to her than any words of comfort that people spoke to her. Sometimes the best help is given by just being there for people in need.
I survived the test and spent the rest of my birthday sleeping off the nerve pills they gave me to get me through the tests. The doctors were treating me with the newest, most high powered drugs they could give me, but nothing was working. Later that night, I awoke to a nurse taking my temperature. It was 106 degrees and the room turned to panic. The nurse immediately packed me in more ice. My white blood cell count was dangerously low and falling, leaving me unable to fight off the infection. I was basically dying.
It was at this point that I mustered the strength to pray the only prayer that I was capable of praying. I said, “Daddy, please help me. I can’t do this myself”.
At that moment, I heard the voice of God in a way that I had never heard before. He said to me, “Don’t worry. You will be okay. I will take care of you”.
I felt such a sense of peace come over my entire body. I had no idea it was the power of God. I fell asleep and had the most peaceful night I had experienced since this nightmare began.
The next day I awoke to find that my temperature had dropped to 98.6, never to rise again. I was given food to eat. It was the first time I had eaten in the past nine days. I laughed and talked to my family. At one point I laughed so hard that I threw up. My mom later told me that once she saw me laughing, she knew I was all better. Even the doctors said it was a miracle.
The next day I was moved from intensive care into a private room until my white blood cells were established at a safe number. I began physical therapy. I was so weak and had lost 35 pounds in nine days. I had to regain my strength to be able to walk. By the end of the week, I was back at home in my bed. God’s words to my mom were fulfilled. It was a miracle.
The healing was a complete miracle from God. No brain damage occurred from the prolonged high fever. As a matter of fact, my professors allowed me to take my final exams just a few weeks later from my home. I remembered everything I had learned and passed all the exams with flying colors, including my language class in ancient Biblical Hebrew. My body was completely healed by God. On top of all this, God even went the extra mile and healed a lifelong foot defect passed down from my father and grandfather. I now have a perfectly normal foot.
I know from first hand experience that God has the power to heal. The fact that I have the mental ability to write this article is proof of His healing power. The next time you hear anyone question the validity of God’s healing power, you be sure to tell them about the young man who received the gift of healing and life for his twentieth birthday.

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