I’ve been debating about writing this here, as our true story is not finished, but I don’t believe we have to know everything to share the hope we’ve been given.

You may know our son, Noah, has been diagnosed with Indeterminate Colitis, an autoimmune disease that may or may not be Crohn’s Disease. The mystery of this disease, and all the terrible things it can lead to has wrapped our hearts in a vice; squeezing ever so tight with worry. Impossible to predict, impossible to know if he’ll have it another year or forever. The financial strain is enough to make us wonder if we’ll make it another year without ruin, but God has proved Himself faithful in the areas of finance: a generous family member or friend, a random check in the mail, a surprise discount from the hospital.

My husband heard about this place called The Healing Room. Believers from local churches join together inside a medical clinic one evening a week to pray for those in need of miracles.

We read of Jesus healing those who believe in Him. We grow up being told this…we may even know someone who has miraculously recovered from an illness, but two thousand years of Jesus making footprints in the sands of this Earth is a long way from our cynical culture today. And even though some of us know him and know He can, we wonder if He will. Why some, but not all? Will we be like Paul, forever inflicted with a thorn in the flesh to remind us of where to fix our eyes?

Maybe our faith is too full of questions and not enough belief. But how do we help our six-year-old understand the complexities? I prayed about this, worried that if we took Noah for prayer and he wasn’t healed that he would lose his faith.

John and I explained to him about healing…that miracles do happen, but sometimes God lets people stay sick. They become God’s heroes.

Noah was unsure, nervous about doing something so foreign. He said he’d think about it. I asked God for confirmation that we were doing the right thing, and if so, would he encourage Noah?

Over the next week as I drove my kids to school, a few people called in to our local radio station to report miraculous healings. I leaned in. Is that you, God?

Shortly after, we visited with our neighbors during their fall yard sale. Noah loves looking for new treasures and was delighted to join me. A beautiful, state of the art electric wheelchair was displayed in their driveway. Something compelled me to ask why they were selling such a nice piece of equipment—people don’t buy those for temporary problems–and they both walked very well. So I asked.

“He had MS, but doesn’t anymore. He was healed,” said Mrs. Neighbor.

“What happened?” I asked, Noah at my side listening.

“Prayer, I guess.”

I turned to Noah, repeated what she said, like he didn’t hear it the first time.

“I’ll do it.” He smiled. Wide.

Later, when the kids were at school, I dropped to my knees and requested a special favor from God. I believe those signs were from You. Thank you. If you don’t heal him, please give him a “God moment” so he doesn’t lose his faith.

When the sun had left the city in darkness a few Thursday nights later, Noah and I walked into The Healing Room. I could feel the prayer as soon as we entered; I felt embraced by it the whole time we were there. We filled out some paperwork about us and our specific prayer request: Healing from the colitis, healing from the pain.

Before they brought us into the room, they prayed. Over us, over the problem, over any special word from God.

Noah and I stood against a wall underneath a sign reminding us that miracles come from God, not from the people praying. His light-up shoes blinked off as he stopped; my breath came quick as they anointed us both with oil. As soon as the Prayer Man touched Noah’s right wrist, Noah’s right shoe lit up—his foot hadn’t budged. Noah beamed.

When we prayed, they repeated 1 Peter 2:24 where Jesus says, “…By His stripes you are healed.” As soon as they said the words, a picture of Jesus on the cross, taking the wounds of the world upon Himself filled my mind’s eye. Wearing a crown of blood, his head fell forward and tipped toward me—and then, gone. That was enough for me–no matter what happened, God is good. God is Love.

They prayed over Noah for a second time, then invited us to come back again. Some battles take more prayer than others, they said.

His pain was less that night. By the next day, it was completely gone. A few symptoms remain, but we came away with three things. One shoe light (Noah’s God moment), partial healing (no more pain), and a few scriptures impressed upon the prayer warriors, one of them being…And my God will meet all your needs according to the riches of his glory in Christ Jesus Philippians 4:19.

That leaves us at the unfinished part of our story. We will go back on another Thursday night in the hopes that Noah’s healing will be complete. Will the other shoe light for my boy, giving us another miracle, or will he be one of God’s heroes?

The Healing Room is nationwide, my friends. I suspect some of you may need to go. Please check out this link to find one closest to you. http://healingrooms.com/