I’m writing about healing because there has to be more than this. There has to be more than the father who takes his son to the altar every Sunday morning to be prayed for by the elders, just like it says in the Bible. James, he said it: Lay hands on the sick and they’ll recover.
Oh, and pray the prayer of faith. Maybe that’s it. Maybe he’s trying for a jackpot in the Sunday lottery. One Sunday, someone just might pray that Prayer of Faith, and pictures of halos will line up in a row like they do in a slot machine. Instead of coins, healing will come pouring out.
Well, he hasn’t hit the jackpot yet, because every Sunday there he is. His son is almost as tall as he is, body parts moving like they have a mind of their own, always wandering off and having to be corralled in, his father being the corral, as they make their way up to the altar.
The elder, or whoever it is up there, with the tag that says “Altar Worker” hanging from a lanyard making it official, prays. And sometimes they pray a long prayer through the boy’s wiggling and twitching, and I don’t know if the official person has faith, but I’m thinking the dad must, because he keeps bringing him every week like he’s expecting something to happen.
And I’m standing in my pew while we all sing, “I believe you’re my healer,” watching this and praying to God because how could God the Father look down on this father bringing his child and just ignore it?
Every week, I want something to happen. Inside I’m cheering them on. I never want them to give up. I want them to keep coming until it happens because I believe Jesus is our healer. Because God himself said I’m the God who heals you. And I’m thinking why would he say this if he wasn’t?
I’m thinking of the father who brought his son to Jesus. The son convulsed on the ground, foam coming out of a speechless mouth. Jesus didn’t pray. He spoke with authority, the demons came out, and the boy was healed.
That was Jesus, but he gave this same authority to us. Peter said to the lame beggar, “I don’t have money, but I’ll give you what I have, In the name of Jesus Christ, rise up and walk.”
I’ll give you what I have. I want to say this, but I don’t know where that authority is. Did I leave it in my back pocket and somehow it got lost in the wash or did it get lost in the mail? I don’t know. But I don’t have it. Because if I did, I’d run up to that dad and set that boy free, the way Jesus would.
Jesus never said, “God bless you in your sickness, my child. My grace is sufficient for you, now go and suffer in Jesus name.” But what more can we say, when we open our eyes and the person we just prayed for isn’t healed?
Have more faith. So we try positive thinking which is practically the same thing as faith. Isn’t it? Which is kind of like Dorothy clicking her heels together and repeating “There’s no place like home.” If we believe hard enough, it has to happen. It also helps if you close your eyes.
Don’t be discouraged. Your healing could be gradual. Like the blind man who saw vague outlines, men like trees, before he saw clearly. Healing in the two step process. Given enough time, like evolution, anything is possible. Unfortunately that doesn’t do much for the person who has to wake up sick every morning or the daughter given only a week to live. There’s something about healing that you want to have it in this lifetime, preferably right away.
This Sunday, I hope that dad and his son hit the jackpot. I hope I find that authority Jesus gave us. Because there are a lot of people in this world who need healing in this lifetime. They’re clicking their heels together, wishing upon a star, looking for the magic words. They’re confusing Disney with the Bible because at this point, anything will do.
And I just know there has to be more than this.