Can't I hide under a bushel? ... Please?!

When I was in about the fourth grade , I took a major wipeout on a bike twice my size, right in front of some of my mom's most fearful friends. Mom scooped me up in her arms and drove me home, singing hymns. Although she said nothing at the time, she later admitted that her initial prayerful pleadings had been along the lines of, "Gee, God, why did this have to happen in front of all those people?"

I remember well the healing that followed. The deep laceration on my leg healed quickly through prayer, and many people in our small town were witnesses to the healing. My mother and I learned together that spiritual healing is never hindered by the fact that people might be looking on to see what happens. That's because human opinions are powerless to change what God knows about us and does for us. Mom's prayer of "Why here ... why now?" turned rapidly to a prayer of gratitude to God, and thanks that others were able to see the effect of prayer-based treatment.

September 8, 2003

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