A day at the Healing Ministry Centre

So, Tom Jewett keeps on talking about Psalm 91 and its promise of divine protection for the one who places his/her trust in the Almighty. Since that has been my favourite psalm for years, I knew well what it says about protection. He goes on to say that "nothing shall happen to you other than God's provision", a truth which I learnt first-hand earlier this year.

One pitch-black May evening, I was walking towards my friend's car after a night class at Wesley and my large foot caught in the raised edge of a paving stone. I was tired, my reflexes were slow, and my hands were full with books and other supplies for a full day at uni. I went down like a tree trunk after a beaver dinner party.

Two hospital visits, a stitch and several abusive doctors (not to mention one nice one) later, I reflected on it and asked, "Why did this happen? He promised that He would give His angels charge over me, lest I dash my foot upon a stone. I did JUST THAT! Exhibit A, Foot. Exhibit, B, Stone. Exhibit C, Recurrent Memory of Tripping and Landing Hard. So, where were the angels?"

And the still, small voice told me that the angels had never left, but that for some reason the Almighty, in whose shadow I had been dwelling, had asked them to let me fall. I didn't know what that reason was but I had to trust that it was a good one because He only has good ideas, good reasons, good purposes, good anything for His children.

I am beginning to see some of the good that has come of my having that fall. Like being put in touch with a caring doctor who zeroed in straight away on the causes underlying some of my oldest medical issues. Like, through her, being connected with a couple I'd been supposed to contact since I first arrived in Sydney. Like being at a seminar on wholeness by Tom Jewett and having a soft-spoken older man start talking to me.

I would not be surprised to learn that at least one angel in all of God's battalions has the appearance of a white-haired, stooped old man who is almost exactly my height, with a solitary hair growing out of the side of his otherwise smooth nose; with high cheekbones that have stretched over them skin so delicate that you can see the blood vessels beneath. I would not be surprised if it was an angel who gently told me how blessed I will be when I reach his age and look back at how greatly I had benefited from having obeyed the Lord from the days of my youth. He had Parkinson's, he said. I don't even remember what Parkinson's is. We were both at a seminar on wholeness at a healing centre. I don't think it's necessary for me to know what Parkinson's is as well as I know who it is who can remove it.