Healing of a long-term limp

It’s the last day of my holiday and I’ve packed the car. But before I set off on the long drive home, I decide to do one more loop of the short circular walk that takes me over the golf course, through the sand dunes, along the beach, and back to where I’ve been staying.

As I head across the golf course, I notice a middle-aged couple coming out of a side path, turning and heading towards me.  

“How do we get to the beach?” the man calls out in my direction.  

I give them two alternative options and they quickly confer, before deciding to take the same route as me – and it doesn’t take long for us to get chatting.

“We’d never have found this path,” the woman says, as we walk alongside the outer edge of the golf course.

Their names are Ian and Jan. They live about two hours away and it’s their first time in the area. They are here to visit their son, who recently secured his dream job, a couple of miles from where we are walking.

As we walk in step together, our pace is slow, as Ian seems to have an awkward limp.

“What happened?” I ask, nodding towards his leg, “Are you in pain?”

“Yes,” he says, grimacing, “I’ve had all sorts of treatments, but the doctors can’t fix it.”

Out tumbles a tale of how Ian was playing a game of squash with a friend; how he took an awkward shot in the corner of the court; how he slipped as he reached out his racquet to hit the ball; how he twisted his spine as he fell; how he’s been in pain ever since …

“You’re very observant,” Jan remarks, “Are you a physio?”

I smile and shake my head. “No,” I say, “but I often notice these things.”

I pause for a moment, pray under my breath, and then plunge in at the deep end. “It’s because I’m a Christian – and I believe Jesus heals people.”

“Wow,” says Jan, “How does that work?”

Even as she’s asking, I sense a Holy Spirit nudge to share the story of how God healed my fractured spine after my car accident. [This story is recorded in full in the opening chapter of my book, “Light Through the Cracks: How God Breaks In When Life Turns Tough“.]

Knowing I need to obey, I launch straight in with the headlines.

“No wonder you believe in healing,” Jan remarks, as I draw the story to a close.

The path has narrowed and we’re now walking in single file, heading towards the sand dunes. From my position at the front, I pivot to face them, forcing us all to pause mid-step.  

Looking at Ian, I sense an oh-so-familiar surge of compassion-and-courage rising up within me. “Has anyone prayed for healing for your back?” I ask.

“No,” he says, shaking his head. “It’s never occurred to me to ask for it.”

“Would you like me to pray for you?” I continue.

He hesitates. “Do you mean, like, right here, right now?” he asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“Does it matter that I’m not religious?” he queries.

“Of course not,” I reassure him.

“Go on then,” he says, “I’ve got nothing to lose!”

I get his permission and lay my hand gently on his spine, in the spot where he says it hurts the most. Aware that Jan is watching me intently, I pause a moment to ask, out loud, for the Holy Spirit to come, before praying a simple prayer, commanding the pain to go in Jesus’ name.

I ask Ian how he’s feeling and he reports no change.

I immediately feel a sense of disappointment, so I swiftly silence it, and ask Ian whether I can pray a second time. He agrees and I, once more, speak healing into his back in Jesus’ name.

Nothing seems to happen. But, ever optimistic, I suggest that Ian might want to monitor his pain levels as we walk up and over the sand dunes, down through the bracken, towards the beach below.

At the base of the bracken, we find an elderly woman leaning against a tree trunk, cradling a small dog, both enjoying the shade.

Pausing a moment, a conversation quickly opens up.

“This lady has just prayed for my healing,” Ian tells her, nodding towards me, “and all the pain in my back has gone.”

Jan gasps – and I spin round in amazement.

“It’s Jesus who’s healed you,” I say, “not me.”

“Ay,” says the elderly lady, from her spot on the ground beneath the tree. “He does that, you know.”

Now I look at her in amazement. “Are you a Christian?” I ask her, and she nods.

Ian is keen to continue. “I wasn’t sure whether I was imagining it,” he explains, “so I was testing my pain levels, as we walked over the sand dunes, and it’s definitely gone.”   

Jan is near to tears.

“Don’t cry love,” Ian says, putting his arm around her shoulder and pulling her close.

“Jesus loves you, Ian,” I say, “In fact, he loves you both and he wants a relationship with you both.”

“Ay, he does,” interjects the elderly lady, her gaze focused on her dog, who she is gently stroking.

I explain the message of the Gospel as concisely and clearly as I can, and then I ask if they would like to receive Jesus into their lives. But they seem hesitant and unsure.

“You won’t regret it if you do,” whispers the elderly lady.

Rather than pushing them, I suggest they might want to find a local church when they return home, and I recommend a national website they could use to locate a good one in their area.

Ian thanks me again, as does Jan. “Please keep thanking Jesus, not me,” I say.

Leaving them in the company of the elderly lady and her dog, I head along the coastal path, praying as I go.

***

How many of us cross paths with people like Ian and Jan, while out and about in our daily lives? Maybe, like me, on holiday? Or maybe near home?

God knows who needs to be healed. He also knows who needs to know Jesus loves them. All he asks is for your willingness and readiness, so that – through you – he can convey his love and bring his healing to those people.

If you don’t feel willing, why don’t you ask God to give you courage? If you don’t feel ready, why don’t you ask the Holy Spirit to come and fill you? And if you never seem to notice the people around you, let alone their needs, why don’t you ask Jesus to give you his compassion and make you more observant?

Also, if you can relate to Ian (or Jan) in this story, please don’t hesitate to call on the name of Jesus for healing for you (or your loved one).

As ever, constructive comments are welcome below.

Photo my own.