God, Our Healer

God, Our Healer

I am a total worship junkie. And given my sorted pre-saved past, it’s quite an evolvement.  Doesn’t matter the day of the week, or what’s going on in this crazy life, from the time I wake up, ‘til the moment I lay this head ‘o highlights down to sleep, I find a way to play my worship music.

And thanks to the gift of earbuds giving the unfortunate appearance of a wanna-be millennial, my entire work day is amplified by the heavenlies, with a rare interruption by some over-achieving colleague jolting me out of my worshipful haze….

”Holy, holy, holyyyyy, is the Looooord God Almi”-


“Oh, sorry- earbuds. Yep, I’ll be at the meeting.” Yeesh send an email, lady…

For me worship is so much more than my way of praising God for, well, everything, but it’s total spiritual warfare. It instantly clears my head of irritations, worry, sadness, anxiety, you name it- because it is impossible for these emotions to exist in His presence. Not to mention sweet relief from the frenetic, crazed and self-absorbed head space we all descend into.

One of my greatest wishes, aside of course from a perpetual fountain of youth and dark chocolate flowing through my yard, would be to have a 24-hour house of prayer/worship nearby, like they do in the more evangelical parts of the country where the term ‘born again’ doesn’t secure your place on the government’s ‘person of interest list.’ I make it to the International House of Prayer in KC when visiting my sister every year, and they practically have to drag me out by my boot heels (and it’s also connected to an espresso bar…need a say more). It’s pure joy.

But alas, back home I’ve had to church hop and Google map my way through central Connecticut to find really amazing worship services….and here in New England you kind of have to take what you can get. I’ll go wherever the worship’s good, like a free sample abuser at Sephora. However my search happily ended two years ago, when I discovered a nearby church that hosted a ‘night of miracles,’ once a month, complete with an hour of spirit-led worship followed by a time of healing and prayer. I’ve barely missed a night. They even have Bethel Church-inspired dancers and painters creating art during the service, and excessively dim lighting to properly mask the mascara-laden tears (the good kind) I can never hold in. It’s flipping awesome.

And what amazes me most, aside from the fact the continual failure of my “waterproof” mascara, is how few people even show up to this piece of heaven. It’s usually like me and 24 other people, which always makes it a little awkward at first, until the Holy Spirit reminds me to get over myself and be grateful I’m there for the praise, not spinal healing.

Normally, I shamefully dart out of the service before the healing portion begins, where ministry team members gather at the front of the church to announce an emotional or physical ailment God’s put on their heart, and people respond asking for prayer. In the short time I’ve been going, tumors and cancer have been reported gone, lifelong chronic pain instantly healed, and spiritual bondage broken. It’s amazing to witness, but I always have three boys waiting for Friday night movie night to start at home, and I’m good with my worship fix.

But this past Friday, I was desperate, and I was there for the whole show. I was actually expecting a miracle. I had just left a long-term relationship, and was struggling… and I was determined to stay, and wait my prophetic word to be spoken….”I sense someone needs to break a soul tie….” And then I would humble myself and get healed so I could promptly return to my happy joyful self.

I sat. And sat. And I waited. And waited. When I tell you that just about every ailment and emotional need was announced, it is only with the slightest exaggeration. Joint stiffness. Stomach issues. Elbow pain, bad knees, skin rashes, it was alike a mid-17th century healing camp. Familial relationships restored, marriages re-bonded, and I think a Jewish person came to Christ. I actually think they might have covered every heartache the human soul can encounter. Sans post-breakup wounds.

I thought for a moment my time had arrived, when a woman began saying a few random words in search of someone to heal:

“This week, when asking God whom to pray for, I heard a name…. Susan….even if your name isn’t Susan, if someone significant in your life is named Susan…or could maybe even just on Susan Court.”  Hmmmm....

I actually scoured my mind for any potential Susan connection that could usher my sad self to the alter for some darn healing. But nothing.

I finally left, humbly accepting my fate, driving home still feeling genuinely grateful for the peace and joy I always feel for that straight hour.

And that’s when I realized it. My miracle had already happened. My miracle was that I was there at all, still standing and praising the Lord, experiencing comfort and feeling loved, despite the waves of deep sadness and loss that only the Lord could remedy.

Because I remember what it was like going through a storm like this, before knowing Him, and there was just dark, lonely hopelessness. The comfort and love of God in my time of despair was and will always be miracle enough. No matter where you’re at with your relationship with Him, anyone going through any type of pain should know He simply never fails.

If we let Him, like really come to Him with our pain, regret, fear, whatever- instead of running to the million other vices and sources of escape out there, He will be our comfort in our time of need. It doesn’t always happen overnight, and healing of any kind is a journey, but we’re not meant to go it alone. He promises to restore and make our lives beautiful, no matter how far off the path we feel, or how “low” we’ve sunken. The only thing that heals, is Him. He is the miracle. And mark my words, that’s with or without, an Aunt Susan.

Psalm 18:30-33. xo



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