Life & Faith

wart

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Freshman year of college I had this wart on my ankle that would not come off.  I cheerlead so always wrapped my ankle in consideration of the bases who had to grip my ankles. Gross.  I went to the doctor multiple times for it. No success. One day in the shower, realizing I’d never prayed about it, I prayed about it.  Two days later it was gone.  “Oh my gosh, I’ve been healed!!” <-I was telling everyone until my suit-mate advised “Katie, that’s gross. You should probably stop telling people about your wart.” 

I kindof forgot about that happening until last fall I drove to Yosemite with a friend I’d met in Turlock near McKinley Family Farms.  He’d just gotten back from a gathering of Christians a little further up the west coast where he and a few guys had prayed and saw the power of Jesus heal a crippled man on the sidewalk.  He said he didn’t freak out when he literally watched this man’s leg lengthen and grow out. It was just like ‘okay-we prayed for it, and it happened’.  Ha! That’s amazing!!!!!! But then I thought–why am I freaking out excited hearing his story when we’re driving through beautiful, hilly terrain on our way to Yosemite!!! There are beautiful trees growing out of the ground to our left and grass, and clean air, and birds around as we drive through these hills on a planet that’s spinning 800mph in orbit around a star whose surface is 10,000 degrees Fahrenheit.

How often I forget and get comfortable with all of creation’s crazy miracles. So comfortable that when a wart I pray for actually falls off, it’s still blowing my mind 7 years later. When my friend prays for and sees a dude’s leg grow out I get incredibly pumped about it because I’ve never seen that happen.When I’m in awe wandering around Yosemite I have to remind myself that the fact that I’m even breathing is a miracle all in itself.

Last night a girl I know in Shanghai who’s been healed of severe physical pain in the past when she prayed for it shared that she really never takes medicine anymore because usually when she prays for healing–she’s healed. I typically pop an Advil when I have a headache before praying about it and depend on coffee at the C-store to wake me up every morning to brave Shanghai with no mental or emotional acknowledgement or prayerful thanks for the drink’s caffeine & warmth or thanking God for the many hands that it took to get that paper cup and its contents into my hands.  I want to not be like that but instead recognize that everything I’ve been given is on account of God’s giving it to me and to pray bigger/more radical/trusting/confident prayers, more radical prayers–resting in the fact that I’m praying to the one that made it all, is all-powerful, is creative in ways that I sometimes find comical and absurd, loves His creation, allows us to imagine, and has a purpose for all things.
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