My God, You are the unchanging Love
The Jeremy Camp song played in my head as I waited my turn in the Testimony line. I was nervous. The room was filled with fellow missionaries, everyone watching eagerly while each person walked up on stage and talked about how Jesus Christ had healed them. What was I going to say when it came my turn?
My God, Your Heart sends Hope from above
The chorus stayed on repeat as I wondered how best to explain what just happened–what did just happen? I wasn’t quite sure. Moments before, my squad mates had been crowded around me, praying for Jesus to heal my back. I’d strained a muscle two days prior, thanks to my massively heavy backpack. The thing was pushing forty-five pounds, and it didn’t take long to incur my first back injury. Day one, matter of fact.
Honestly, I hadn’t thought much about the injury up to that point—just something I’d chalked up to being out of shape—but that morning? Let’s just say it was a particularly bad one. It was freezing outside, the weather had turned wet and drizzly, my back was really throbbing, and I was so sleep-deprived I kept nodding off in class, which happened to be a class on the gift of healing. So as soon as the lecturer had told us, “If anyone needs healing today, please stand up,” I was the first one on my feet.
“What do you need us to pray for, Kay?” Mama C asked. She and her husband, whom we affectionately called “Pappy,” were the coaches assigned to our squad.
I looked at Mama C with desperate eyes. “For Jesus to heal my back and wake me up.”
Her eyebrows gently lifted. “For Jesus to heal your back and wake you up,” she repeated, her mouth giving way to a soft grin. “Okay. We can do that.”
The lecturer led us in prayer as ten people laid hands on me. Some hands were on my arms and shoulders; some were resting on my lower back, directly on the injury. I felt some hands on my head, my neck. As everyone began to pray, I closed my eyes and did exactly what the lecturer had suggested: I focused on Jesus.
There’s a story in the Bible about a leper who, in public, approaches Jesus for healing. I hadn’t known this before, but in New Testament times, people were so fearful of lepers they would throw rocks to keep them away—a type of public exile. In a way, I can understand why people were so fearful. I wouldn’t want a leper lurking around either, especially back in a time when modern day medicine didn’t exist.
But you know, it’s also really sad. What a horrible life, right? Not only were lepers a public health hazard, they also didn’t have any social interaction. No one to talk to. No one to hug them. How lonely.
The thought was pretty depressing, and I instantly understood why someone would risk being stoned to death for a chance to be healed. So when I focused my thoughts on Jesus for the healing exercise, I instantly imagined myself as the leper from that Bible story. Dodging rocks, I crawled across a dirt road, slowly making my way to the one and only person on the planet who could help me. The scene was so vivid I even imagined people throwing the rocks: they were yelling, pumping their fists in rage—the rocks kept flying, but eventually I made it to Jesus’ feet. He was in a long robe and sandals, and I reached out to him, keeping my head bowed in worship. Please, Lord, I begged in my thoughts. Please heal me. I’m in so much pain. Please.
I prayed long and hard…then I felt it: a warm tingling in my lower back, like water washing over me and straight through me. I was so moved by this strange sensation I knelt down and bent forward, praying humbly but passionately with my forehead pressed to the ground. My squad mates followed, dropping to their knees to keep their hands on me. Their prayers became more fervent. I knew–I dared to guess–what was happening.
“Thank you, Jesus,” I whispered, watching the leper scene. And as my back began to feel better, I began to weep.
He was healing me.
Tears streaming down my cheeks, I watched as a second scene replaced the first: a girl was running across a field and up a hill. I recognized her. She was me, and she was running up the hill outside the lodge—the same lodge where we were having classes right then. Is that what you want me to do, Jesus? Is that why you’re showing me this?
“Okay, everyone!” Bill Swan, the head of staff at training camp, walked up on stage. “Please go ahead and conclude your prayers. If anyone has a testimony, come up here, and we’ll give you an opportunity to share.”
My squad mates said their amens, and people began to form a line by the stage. I pushed myself to my feet and turned to face Sam. He was our squad leader, and he knew what a rough time I’d had with our early morning workouts. He’d been praying adamantly for me—I heard him lifting me up to the Lord—and I immediately gave him the biggest, most genuine hug I think I’ve ever given anyone.
Then I spun and headed straight for the testimony line.
All right, Lord. The vision of me running up the hill kept playing. If I’m healed—if I’m truly healed—and if you really actually want me to run up that hill like I keep seeing in my head—if this is all for real, then I will get up on that stage and…I’ll give my testimony and then sing and dance like David. How about that?
Yeah. How about that? I guess I didn’t actually think it was real, because I kept twisting and turning, reaching down to touch my toes and then leaning to the side, then to the other side. It didn’t take long for reality to sink in. I had taken an Advil early in the morning, battling a headache–but that wasn’t it. I know because even though the headache had vanished, my back had still been sore and throbbing and oh-so-stiff, all the way up until the point when everyone started praying for me. After that–after I felt that tingling sensation–I didn’t feel anything, no even a smidgen of stiffness!
I’m…healed? I still couldn’t quite believe it, so I stretched—and stretched and stretched, testing myself, trying different movements. No pain. And although I wanted to jump for joy, my mouth actually went dry. I had just told God that if I was healed I would get up on stage—the stage where everyone was giving their testimonies—and sing and dance like David.
Sing. And dance. Like David. FROM THE BIBLE.
The guy ahead of me finished, and everyone applauded. Trembling, I walked up on stage and hesitantly accepted the microphone. Bill Swan and his colleague Chris Scott were standing off to the side, chatting casually but with watchful eyes. What will they think when I start singing and dancing? Will they say I’m being disruptive? What are my squad mates going to think? I’m about to make a fool of myself and get in trouble! My thoughts buzzed, and I suddenly had a million-and-one reasons why I shouldn’t do what I was about to do.
But then Holy Spirit spoke: Who are you trying to please? He asked. People? Or God?
“Uhhh.” My voice, shaky and unusually timid, boomed through the large speakers in front of the stage.
“Come on, Kay!”
“All right, Kay!” A couple of my squad mates cheered me on. Encouraged, I cleared my throat and mustered my courage.
“My squad knows me,” I finally began. “They know how tough these last few days have been for me. We’ve been getting up so early, and it’s so cold—I don’t do so well in the cold. I’ve really struggled, especially with our workouts”—I glanced at Sam—“and the other day I ended up straining my lower back, so the workouts have been even tougher—” My voice broke. Tears, which had never fully stopped, turned to rivers rushing down my cheeks. “I’ve had a really bad attitude, complaining and just being really negative. But something happened to me just now, something that’s hard to explain. I told Jesus that if He would heal my back that I would run out that door”–I pointed–“across that field, and up that hill out there. Uhhh….”
By that point my composure shattered. I was a big, blubbering mess, and reactions ignited: people’s eyes widened, I heard gasps….
Then something else happened, something very strange: the bondage of fear was broken. Holding the microphone tightly, I stood straight and pointed before me. “And I’m here to tell you Jesus healed me!”
A cheer went up. “Yeaahhhh!”
“Jeeesuuusss!” The cheers swelled. I kept going.
“I wasn’t sure if it was real,” I admitted, still gripping the mic, “but I told Jesus if it is real, that I would get up on this stage and sing and dance like David. It’s real, so I’m up here, and now I’m going to sing and dance like David. And then I’m going to run out that door, across that field, and up that hill!”
The room erupted as I started singing Jeremy Camp’s “My God,” all the while spinning around in an impromptu dance. After going through the chorus, I handed the mic to (a surprised) Bill Swan and raced off stage. Once I was out the door and clear of the lodge—once everything and everyone was behind me—I broke into a full out sprint and blazed a trail through the field. Jesus. I fixed my eyes on the hill. I knew Jesus was at the top. He’d been waiting for me.
Head ducked, I dashed forward. I was crying, struggling to shake off the last few chains binding my soul. I ached to be free of them, to be rid of the lies Satan had been telling me all my life:
You’re not good enough.
Nobody likes you.
You’re going to humiliate yourself.
I don’t care, I thought. I love Jesus. I LOVE JESUS! And I tell you the truth: by the time I made it up that hill:
I.
Was.
FREE.
Collapsing at the top, I wept before my Savior, crying out in sheer relief. For 32 years I’d been carrying those chains, tortured and tormented and burdened by such a heavy load. But no more. I was free in Jesus Christ. I no longer belonged to the Father of Lies but to my Heavenly Father.
In that moment I became a daughter of the King.
I don’t know how long I was alone with Him, up on top of that hill, before I heard a stampede behind me: my squad mates, everyone who’d laid hands on me earlier. They fell around me, some praying, some consoling. We stayed that way, worshiping our Savior until I felt led by the Spirit to get up.
And so, I got up. Realizing I was okay, my squad mates finally relaxed and began chattering excitedly: “That was awesome!”
“I was like, ‘We should go after her!’”
“You made it up the hill so fast I knew it must have been Holy Spirit!”
They were all smiles and laughs. It was beautiful, and as we wandered down the hill, my dear friend Olivia Hess grabbed my arm. “Kay.” She spoke my name in such a way that I knew—I just knew—she had a Word for me. Sure enough, she did. As the slope leveled off, she looked me dead-on and said: “You’re going to be a different woman when you step off this hill, Kay. Are you ready?”
I write this blog post with that very question in mind. It’s hard to say—I mean, can you ever really be “ready” for the World Race? There’s one person who’d know for sure…
So how ’bout it, Jesus? Only six weeks left before launch. Am I ready?
Click here to see the video for Jeremy Camp’s “My God.” 🙂
