Amber's Journey of Healing from Arthritis
During the time of that snow, our horse knocked me off of a fence and a ligament in my wrist was torn away from my bone. When we could finally get out of the driveway, my mother took me to the emergency room, who then sent me to a specialists. I was in a cast for 6 weeks, and my wrist seemingly healed. But my joints were never the same after that.
It wasn't long after the injury that my wrist began to hurt when doing simple things like taking extended notes. The pain increased, and smaller and smaller things became painful. We went back to see the specialist who had casted my wrist before, and he told us that everything had healed fine and he didn't know what would be causing the pain. He put me on a prescription to make the swelling go down, but it didn't help. So we tried another, then another, then another. Nothing helped.
"Well, there's one more thing we can do." the specialist told me. "We can give you a cortisone shot, and if that doesn't work, then we can go in and do exploratory surgery to see what's going on in there."
*very sarcastic tone of voice* Right! Great idea!
So, we decided we would just wait and see if it cleared up. It didn't. It got worse. The pain spread to both of my wrists, then to my knees. Things like taking notes at all, bending down to talk to my siblings, walking up stairs, or even riding in the car for longer than 20 minutes became very painful for me. I was 13 years old at the time, but when it came to discussions on sports, energy, hiking and exercise, I would find myself agreeing with and relating to the old people, not the young people.
A few years passed and we decided to go to a regular doctor and see if they could make any progress. The doctor diagnosed me with "Juvenile Arthritis" and basically told me to take an aspirin and join a support group. He gave me a flyer about a camp for kids with arthritis where you can go for counseling and an "Arthritis Anonymous" type of therapy. I was frustrated. I wasn't an addict, I was just in pain. Arthritis is like wearing chains everywhere you go, they hold you back, they hinder your work, and it makes you feel trapped.
Over the next few years, we tried many different things. Sport injury stretches and exercises, one health treatment after another, extreme diets and supplementation with several different nutritionists. Emotional therapy. ..and although my overall health improved, nothing helped the Arthritis.
Throughout all this time, I really struggled spiritually because I knew I should be able to trust God for my healing, but I didn't seem to have "enough" faith. I had prayed and fasted, and yet it had never gone away. I began to think that maybe this arthritis was my "thorn in the flesh" and God had some reason for this infirmity.
Finally, in fall of 2011, I was sitting in a church service listening to a visiting minister. He was speaking on faith and healing. He told us that it was never God's will for us to be sick, that was a lie of the devil. He reminded me that God had healed me before the foundations of the world were laid. It was then that I heard the Lord speak to my heart. He asked if I'd ever been anointed with oil and prayed for. I thought I had, but as I tried to remember the instance, I couldn't recall a time that I had a minister of God pray for me and anoint me with oil.
I looked up at the visiting minister and thought, "I have two pastors, one in Colorado where I live half the time, and the other here in Missouri where I live the other half of the time. It seems really rude to go up and ask a visiting minister to pray for a problem you've had for 8 years when you have two pastors."
"Alright Lord, if you really want me to go up and be prayed for, have Pastor Jackson open the altar for prayer on Wednesday night."
When Wednesday night rolled around, I hadn't forgotten my fleece before the Lord. As the service neared the end, I was in the cry room with Keren when Pastor Jackson opened the Altar. That was "Thus Saith the Lord" to me. I left my mom with the babies and walked to the front of the church.
Brother Jackson explained my request to the congregation, anointed me with oil, then the whole church began to pray and intercede for me. When they had finished, Brother Jackson told me to "go my way rejoicing, because the Lord had healed me."
After the service, a brother came up to encourage me. He too had been healed from arthritis, and he told me that one day I would just wake up and go about my day, until I realized, "Hey, I don't hurt anymore!" How I was looking forward to that!
The next several days, I felt great! There was no pain when I bent down to get pans out of the cupboard, there was no pain walking up the stairs!
But a few days later, it came back. I tried not to be discouraged, I knew it was just the old devil coming back, but my faith faltered. I didn't profess my sickness anymore. But I didn't profess my healing either. I felt like it would be lying if I told people I didn't have arthritis anymore, but I still had so much pain. How could I tell people I was healed, when I wasn't yet? But I did know that the Lord had promised to heal me, and I was just waiting for that to happen.
A couple months later, a sermon again spoke to my heart. Pastor Jackson was preaching on "Our Approach". He was teaching on the Shunammite woman that Elisha had promised a son. (II Kings She had received her promised son, but now her son had fallen ill and was dead. She saddled her donkey and set out to find Elisha. Gehazi saw her coming and Elisha sent him out to meet her. Gehazi asked her, "Is everything alright with you? Is your family alright? Your husband and son?" to which the woman replied "All is well."
All is well.
How could she say that when her son was lying dead? She had faith to know that God had given a promise, and she could profess the miracle before it happened because God had already given the Word.
Pastor Jackson also related the story of a blind man who had gone up for prayer in the great revivals of William Branham in the mid 60's. He professed his healing from the blindness, even though he couldn't see. People told him "you're crazy. You can't see; why are you saying you're healed?" Then one day, he was sitting in the barber chair, and his eyes came open. The healing that he had professed for so long finally came to pass.
Both of these stories really spoke to my heart, and I began to profess that I was healed. As an act of faith, I wrote my Nutritionist and told him I no longer needed his services because I had been prayed for and Christ had healed me. That was a big step for me. Also, every time I felt the pain, I would say out loud, "Thank you, Lord for healing me." or "Praise God, I'm healed." and I would smile. Because if the Devil was hurting me, I certainly didn't want him to know that!
I also began to share my testimony with other people and tell them how excited I was to be pain free. This was a statement that I felt was truthful, and professed my healing but didn't necessarily say I didn't still feel the pain. Every time I told my testimony, I felt stronger.
The arthritis stayed for some time. And I can't tell you exactly when the pain stopped. It was just like the brother said . I was thinking about it the other day, and the only pain I can remember feeling in the last four to five weeks is the sudden pain I felt in my wrist the moment I wrote my pastor and told him I had a testimony. And that quickly went away as I informed the devil that I wasn't letting him back in.
My chains are gone,
I've been set free.
My God, my Savior has ransomed me.
And like a flood,
His mercy reigns,
unending love, Amazing Grace!
So for those of you that would like to tell me that God doesn't exist, that He doesn't heal, that He doesn't care about our lives...TOO LATE! MY GOD HAS BIG MUSCLES. And He likes to impress His Bride.
HALLELUJAH!