|
When I heard the bones cracking, I knew this wasn’t just another meeting. Moments earlier, a crippled man had caught my eye. I was on the platform, and, as I preached, I noticed the man lying on the ground, horribly twisted and deformed. He was curled up into a tiny little ball. This little man’s arms were gnarled in toward his stomach. His legs were wrapped up like a pretzel and he looked as if he couldn’t move at all. I have never, before that time or, since, seen anyone as horribly deformed as this man. But the reason he had caught my eye was that he indeed had started moving, despite all his deformities. He was in the front of a crowd of several hundred crippled people and many blind, maimed and deaf people, all who were expecting God to perform a miracle on them. Some were hideously crippled, bent over canes, and hunched up in wheelchairs, some were unable to even sit upright. Arms were gnarled, legs were shriveled. Eyes were whited out and unseeing. Ears were deformed and unhearing. Fingers were bent painfully over by arthritis that had built up calcium deposits on top of the knuckles, leaving them with huge humps where knuckles should have been. Tiny children had braces on their legs, their sad parents sitting with eyes that seemed to be pleading for help. This crowd of needy people was unlike anything I had ever experienced. I was only twenty-seven years old and I had seen many miracles, but the magnitude of so many hundreds of people needing a touch from God took me aback. Download and read the rest of this chapter:
More:
|
