In the spring of 2008, my wife put a piece of paper down on the kitchen counter in front of me. It was an announcement of an upcoming powerlifting competition in a town near where I live. I looked at it and said, "I want to do that!" I've been a recreational weight lifter most of my adult life. The event advertised on that paper was only two weeks away, so I knew I could never become a competitive threat by that time. But that was OK with me. It was more about participating than winning. I figured I'd go experience something new and get a cool T-shirt.

The big day came, and I had a great time at the competition. And it wasn't just about the lifting. I met a lot of nice people. The experienced lifters were super supportive, and they'd all cheer when I got on the platform to perform my lifts. When I left the platform, there were high-fives, slaps on the back, and words of encouragement.

At the end of the day, I had my cool T-shirt, and I also had a couple of trophies. I was elated, overjoyed. The following day I was still walking on air. But the day after that, I woke up feeling sore and stiff all over.

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Testimony of Healing
January 19, 2009

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