When I gave my life to Jesus at 16, I had just witnessed a miracle. I saw Him resurrect someone from the dead—almost.
My piano teacher—a surrogate mother to me—had been diagnosed with stage four breast cancer when I was 13. By the time I was 16, the cancer had metasticized to her bones, her brain, her liver. She was dying—and fast. The doctors gave her less than two weeks to live and told us there was nothing more they could do but try to keep her comfortable. She was hospitalized.
Being told nothing could be done, she had us do something. We called the elders of her church to come and follow James 5:14-15.
Is any one of you sick? He should call the elders of the church to pray over him and anoint him with oil in the name of the Lord. And the prayer offered in faith will make the sick person well; the Lord will raise him up.
We all knew we were facing a Lazarus death moment without knowing if there would be a “raising up” moment.
The elders came and followed the Scripture and we all prayed. We prayed as if our lives depended on that prayer. Because hers did.
What follows next defies worldly explanation. In fact, the medical staff all agreed a miracle of God had occurred in their midst.
I was at home. It was the next day.
The phone rang.
I answered.
This is Alice. I’ve been healed! I saw Jesus and He sent me back. I have no cancer in my body! I’m going home today!
My knees buckled and I fell to the floor.
She continued.
The elders came and anointed me with oil and prayed for my complete healing. After they left, I felt myself dying—leaving my body. From above in the room, I saw my body. And then I saw a bright light—like a tunnel of light and I started going toward it. And I saw Jesus! I wanted to keep going toward Jesus but He said it wasn’t time yet—that He still had work for me to do on earth—but that He was sending me back into a completely healed body. I told Him I didn’t want to go back because I wanted to be with Him and I’ve never experienced such lightness—being free from my body. I woke up and called the nurse and told her what happened. I saw the doctor and told him what happened. I told them I want to go home. I think they thought I was delusional or something. So, I told them to test me and they did. There’s no cancer anywhere in my body! They couldn’t find ANYTHING! It’s not a remission. There’s NOTHING there! I’m going home!
And she came home—that day. She walked out of that hospital—that tomb—and drove home.
We remained like mother and daughter the rest of her life. She never had another bout with cancer. When I was 43, ten years ago, she finally went to be with Jesus. She was old. Her physical heart finally wore out—but not her heart for Jesus.
I was with her shortly before she died and all she wanted was for me to read Psalms to her. How she loved God’s word! And she talked about “the work” God had called her to after the miraculous healing. I saw the results. I saw all the people whose lives were touched—whose lives were changed because of her story. All but one member of my family became believers as a result of this one miracle. Who knows the ripple effect of all saved because of God’s one miracle?
While I have never personally been that close to physical death—I certainly have been close to emotional death—several times. And I have seen God raise me up from death’s door and give me health and hope. I have witnessed Him pick me up when my legs wouldn’t hold me and help me take steps I couldn’t take in my weak state.
But these are stories for another day . . . .
