Healed.
“God wants you healed.” “I know God doesn’t want you in that wheelchair.” “God told me you’re going to walk again.” It’s a common refrain, variations of which Emily and I have heard countless times from dozens of people over the course of my disability. I’m fully convinced that every person offering to pray or prophesy physical restoration for me these past nine years has done so from the best intentions and deep convictions. From the stranger at Aldi “praying healing” over me, to the Oral Roberts disciple earnestly laying a prayer cloth on me in the park with the simple explanation of “ Acts 19:11-12 ”, to the loving friends and family determined to get me able-bodied again (with a little of God’s help), there has never been a shortage of people concerned about my recovery. And before I go any further with this post, let me honestly, earnestly, humbly thank the hundreds of people (many of whom we may never know on this side of eternity) who have and do pray for
