Apparently just mentioning Todd Bentley or the Lakeland Revival is guaranteed to improve your blog readership.  Wow! I had no idea that sharing my personal experience would tap into the controversy.  Frankly, I believe that my post “Shredded Lives” was much better and more relevant to the church.  But really, my point wasn’t to comment on the Lakeland revival per se.  It was to share my heart about my experience and my hopes.  And one of those had been physical healing. 

I have never sought out or followed after healing.  At least not in the sense that I traveled places, became a revival groupie, or looked for the big names in healing.  But, I have always believed in healing.  I was just content to let it happen where I am. 

I always believed that it would happen but lately I find myself with a growing doubt.  Maybe it won’t is the quiet little refrain in my brain. 

It isn’t that I haven’t been healed before.  I have.  My most memorable moment in healing was when I was pregnant with my younger son.  At five months of gestation, I was diagnosed with congestive heart failure.  I had to sleep propped up and didn’t have enough breath to sing in praise and worship.  When my endocrinologist told me what was going on, I freaked.  I was already dealing with a dangerous pregnancy and its complications due to my diabetes, and this was just one too many things for me.  So yeah, I freaked.  And was then sent straight to the cardiologist office who confirmed but said we would test to be sure.  Come back in four days, he said. 

I remember standing later in the hall of what is now our youth building.  Standing there with my husband and telling our pastor what was going on.  My upset was obvious.  So, he did the only thing he could when faced with a woman who just might go on a crying jag.  He prayed.  Laid hands on me and prayed right there.  We then proceeded into service.  Over the next three days, the symptoms began to disappear.  By the time I went to the cardiologist for the tests, he couldn’t figure out what had happened since he had last seen me.  He did the tests just to be sure, but there was nothing there.  He shook his head and said to cut back on sodium just to be sure.  I rejoiced.  It was obvious what God had done.  I was healed.

But now I live with an entrenched disease and its complications.  It has been twenty-five years since I started on insulin.  I have used an insulin pump for over twenty-one years.  I first received a word shortly after being diagnosed.  This was when I still lived in Kentucky.  I heard God speak to me about the fact that I would be healed.  Later that same night, in church, I was singled out with the same word from my pastor.  His words were exactly the same as what I had heard.  No variation.  I believed.

Through the years, many people have prayed for me.  Some have been sincere but weren’t hearing from God at the time.  Some prayed in complete faith.  All had compassion and great hopes. 

But the bottom line is that I still have diabetes.  I still wear an insulin pump.  I still have to struggle through each day dealing with my blood sugar.  And, I still look to God to be healed.  But, lately, I have to wonder.  I wonder if I will be.  And this wonder challenges me to examine what I believe, to struggle with what I have believed, and to wonder what to believe. 

Proverbs 13: 12

Hope deferred maketh the heart sick: but when the desire cometh, it is a tree of life.