Becoming a Normal Person!

By Jenny B. Chandler

My mother had heard of Pleasant Valley Church in Georgia on Sid Roth's Messianic Vision radio show where God had revealed the spiritual roots of disease to Pastor Henry Wright. For 20 years people have been miraculously healed of diseases there, many of them incurable. She had gone there before when one of her friends was healed. Now Mom was pushing me through the airport in a wheelchair on our way to Pleasant Valley.  At 33 years old, just going anywhere was a major event. It required the entire day to be structured so I wouldn't get too worn out and be in too much pain before hand and then had to schedule time to recover and lay down after I came home. Days generally were comprised of mornings waiting until the pain and heaviness eased and finally the joints start to move again. This is somewhat akin to being the Tin Man from the Wizard of Oz every day. 

But somehow I had gotten to the airport. Bags packed, the back brace, the pain pills and all the other multicolored medications that kept things going, the heating pad, the special pillow, etc. There was no "Just toss things in a bag and dash out the door" when one has fibromyalgia. I had to bring food with me. With 27 food allergies a quick run to McDonald's just doesn't fly. Well, unless I only ate the napkin. I wasn't allergic to paper as far as I knew. I was to eggs, milk, peanuts, onions, peas, broccoli, soy, shrimp, potatoes, apples, grapes, lemons. I'll stop there but the list went on. I was even allergic to oregano.

Although eating, sleeping and walking were problematic and surrounded by pain in one way or another I was about to take a trip that would turn out unlike any other path I had been down. In the past 20 years I had been to about 30 doctors in the effort to get well.

Truth be told, I had secretly given up any hope of getting better or that miraculous healings ever happened to regular people. Those things happened in revivals in far away Africa; maybe in more on fire churches in remotest Asia; a small band of persecuted believers reliving the miracles and passion of the First century church somewhere. However for this 30 something housewife living in middleclass America, I figured I might as well accept it and focus my thoughts on just getting through the day or even that hour.

Sorrow and depression had really caught up with me. I had realized that I didn't want to live anymore but there was no way out. Although our lives were ruled by illness and the havoc it created it still would have been worse for my husband and two children if I killed myself. So here I was stuck in a failing and painful body and things seemed to only get worse over time. How could I live like this anymore? Every day was so hard, and every hour there was something to deal with.

While sitting on the plane, tears in my eyes and a tissue clutched in my hand I stared out the window. People were sitting quietly having their in flight snack and I was thinking about how I realized that every 20 minutes of my life I needed to make some adjustment due to pain or something. Sitting that way hurt my back so I need to move. 20 minutes later a headache was brewing so that must be addressed before it turns into a migraine. 20 minutes after that it was time to eat something due to the hypoglycemia but then what considering the major food restrictions? Another 20 minutes I had to take a pain pill because the roaming and shooting pains in the bones of my arms and legs started again. On and on it went. That was how I lived inside my mind, there was always a warning bell going off, always needing to put out the latest fire.

I knew I wasn't alone in this. I realized that God knew of my pain. I prayed and talked to Him all the time. So why didn't He heal me? I just figured I was supposed to learn something from this ongoing nightmare. I thought that somehow maybe my illness brought me closer to God than most people. After all I couldn't work or even be much involved in church events or my kids' lives but I could lie down and pray and read the Bible. I figured at least I can work on my inner spirituality. It's a job you can do while lying down quietly.

Now my mother was pushing me in the wheelchair through the airport and taking me to this church. If I hadn't felt really led by God I would not have gone. "Ok, God," I said "I'll go and be obedient but as far as healing goes I just want to be able to come home and eat potatoes." That was it. I had 17 diseases and had just enough faith that I might be able to eat a French fry on the way home!

The people I met there who taught the classes had actually been sicker than me at one point. This was definitely a comfort since I was usually the sickest person in the room. But more than that I learned so much. Even with all that sitting I was riveted by what I heard of the spiritual blocks to healing. These were spiritually rooted diseases which they were dealing with through such spiritual issues as repentance and forgiveness. I heard stories of real and long lasting changes in people's lives. It made the Bible come alive again. As the week went on I could feel myself change as I released to God things I realized I'd held inside since childhood.  Then, I went out on faith and ate some chicken. That was the beginning of my healing.

Out of sheer joy I ate potatoes every day for a week and a half! French fries mashed, tater tots, more French fries! That was wonderful but I came home with much more than that. I too was free from the bondage that had encased my heart. That was such healing. I met God in such a safe and beautiful way within my own heart. The physical healing came as a by-product of all that. I can't adequately convey what those people taught in a week but I can tell you that God did a miraculous thing in my heart where the emotional pain had outweighed the physical pain.

We moved 3 weeks after I got home. By the time we packed up the truck I was able to help! I walked up and down the steps. I carried boxes and ate pizza and cheese steaks with everyone else! I worked all day just like the "healthy people." It was amazing. We waved good bye and drove off. I was a normal person!

Sometimes people ask me if I feel all healed or even afraid it is going to come back. I do feel all healed. I also have days or moments when something will hurt or twinge but those are the times I go running back to God, "Show me, Father, where have I strayed from you?" It's like having an early warning system. Warning, warning, beep, beep, beep, you have diverted from the straight and narrow path. This is a wonderful blessing for which I am grateful. I am grateful for the knowledge of what peace is like so that when I am not in peace I can see the difference. You don't know what being at peace is if you are always on alert. God has restored my youth and my health. In fact I am in better health now than I have ever been, even as a small child. Ah, so much to repent for. I believed in the power of illness more than in what God could do. Not anymore. He is faithful. My healing is a testimony that He does just what He said He does. Still. Now. In this day and age and forever. Praise God!