Nearly 40 years ago, in beautiful Kenya in a little mission hospital way out in the bush, I suffered a traumatic situation. I was alone but for one very junior American doctor.
I READ with interest the Editor’s comment and the story of little
Andrew written by his mother, Captain Paula Knight, on
the subject of the ministry of healing (Salvationist, UK,
4 November). As I read on I became uncomfortable, knowing how many people have had similar situations, yet did not have such a positive outcome.
Prayer was the main theme running through Paula’s article. That, of course, is not what bothered me, but the idea that the numbers of people involved and the amount of praying concentrated into a few days was what resulted in Andrew leaving King’s College Hospital ‘healthy and needing no more treatment from the hospital’.
I began to think of people who have had similar situations, yet have not had the numbers of people praying on their behalf or even the numbers supporting. Nothing wrong with numbers, but numbers surely don’t mean that God listens harder or reacts more positively. It’s not numbers that are the main issue, but closeness to God. Many readers could have thought: ‘If only I had had all that help, my situation might have been less traumatic, with a better outcome.’ And, in turn, that can produce a feeling of guilt on the part of the person who has not had prayer support or who has even rejected help from others. Very often it is impossible, when in a desperate situation, to let others into our lives and we cut ourselves off, whether knowingly or not.
Even at such times, God hears our individual prayers and in the still, small hours, when full of desperation, God may come and meet our need for healing of mind and attitude.
Nearly 40 years ago, in beautiful Kenya in a little mission hospital way out in the bush, I too suffered a traumatic situation. I was alone but for one very junior American doctor. He was a fine young Christian gentleman and must have been praying silently as soon as it appeared that things were going drastically wrong. I can’t remember praying at that point, but just waiting for it all to be over - especially as there was no anaesthetist at that time to help us out when an emergency Caesarean section became necessary. I believe God heard those silent or even unexpressed prayers, and never left us.
My husband arrived some time later and I very much doubt if he was ‘praying’ not only because of this but also the severe problems in our appointment many miles away. Looking back, his thoughts must have been all over the place - the first day of a new term at school; short of staff; leaving behind a 20-month-old son Howard and trying to cope with an ill wife and sick baby.
I don’t suppose for one moment prayers were uttered, but I do believe God never left us.
The following day, after my husband had left and gone home the 80 miles over dirt tracks, the young doctor told me that Railton most likely had suffered a cerebral haemorrhage and was very poorly. From that moment, I could not speak and remained dumb until my husband returned three days later.
Within a day or so of little Railton’s birth I did pray silently, and prayed that this burden would be taken away from me as it was too heavy to bear. Both Railton and I were at such a low ebb with no communication available to home, family or friends that to be free of the burden seemed the only answer. My prayers on that day were very lonely prayers. Yet, paradoxically, one of the most powerful voices within me brought the words of Psalm 150 verse 6: ‘Let everything that hath breath praise the Lord.’
At that moment, I felt a massive burden lift and thought to myself: ‘Come on Sandra, you can do this, you can fight for this sick baby and give him the chance to praise the Lord.’
This was just the beginning of a hint of acceptance. There followed many years of numbness and little faith. But, sure enough, Railton has indeed praised God, even with very limited speech and severe physical disability. He is happy with his life, very glad that he didn’t die on that day nearly 40 years ago - and so are we.
A different kind of healing has taken place: acceptance of my situation, an acceptance which has become a gift - possibly my only gift? People have cared for us, and have prayed for us but the numbers are not important - even though many people who know our story are ‘oldies’ and their numbers are indeed reducing. After reading the tributes in Salvationist I often hear myself saying: ‘Well, that’s one less person praying for us!’
Today I thank God for stickability and have no regrets. It was when
I was alone, without support, that I cried for help and the healing process began. Healing came, but not quickly. It was something that had to be worked on over many years, but it did come. Experience has taught me that however far away I felt I was from God, he never left me.
This is part of my story. We all have a story to tell.
by Major Sandra Dalziel, THQ, UK
Reprinted with permission from Salvationist, UK, Dec. 2, 2006 issue