Many years ago I met a homeless woman named Amber. During the summer months, she would sleep outside underneath a large commercial sign next to a chain-link fence. The guard dogs on the other side of the fence would keep her company at night by curling up beside her to keep her warm.
Over the years I helped Amber acquire several jobs and rented many hotel rooms on her behalf. At one point she was able to move into her own apartment, but within a few months, she was evicted. Amber was an alcoholic, and every time she stopped drinking, her sobriety would last for a short time, and then she would end up back on the streets.
One day I received a phone call from the house manager at the Rescue Mission. I could feel the panic in his voice as he said, “Amber was attacked last night. Apparently she had been arguing with some guys earlier that day. We think one of them came back at night and tried to kill her when she was sleeping.”
“Oh no! Is she okay?”
“The perpetrator used a cinder block. Amber lay unconscious all night wrapped up in a bloody blanket. The guys who found her in the morning said they could see her brain exposed through the large gash in her skull.”
“Where is she now?” I asked.
“The paramedics took her away. I tried contacting several hospitals, but no one would give me any information.”
“Thanks for letting me know,” I said.
After getting off the phone, I immediately started calling around. It took about an hour, but eventually I found a woman named Jane Doe who had been admitted for head trauma at Denver General.
When I arrived at the intensive care unit, I could barely recognize Amber. Her face was swollen, and her nose was broken. She had black and blue marks underneath both eyes. The nurses had shaved her head so surgeons could repair the trauma to her skull. The heavy black stitches they used looked like train tracks running across the side of her head in a semicircular pattern.
I started feeling sick when I noticed there was a tube attached to the center of her cranium with shinny brass fittings. The nurse said it was helping to prevent pressure from building up inside her head. There were many other tubes connected to her body, including one from a breathing respirator. The nurse said she had removed the respirator twice to see if Amber could breathe on her own, but both times she failed the test.
All during this time I had been praying, “Oh God, please help Amber,” but deep in my heart I lacked the spiritual strength to pray effectively. No one thought Amber was going to live, and before long, I started preparing myself for the worst-case scenario.
To make matters worse, I felt guilty for the way I had left Amber the last time I’d seen her. I was dropping off some paperwork a few weeks prior. She was standing on the sidewalk waiting for me, but after spending more than a year trying to help her, I had given up hope. I felt like I was wasting my time. I was mad at myself and disappointed with her progress, so after handing Amber the papers, I drove off in an impatient rush. I could hear her calling out to me from the sidewalk, “Wait Rob… Rob.”
As I stood in the hospital room looking at Amber, I felt terrible and partly responsible. All I could do was stop by and visit her to see how she was doing, but every day her condition got worse. There was a terrible stench of death in the room, and the doctors wanted to insert a long-term feeding tube into her stomach.
I continued to pray for Amber, but my prayers lacked the necessary power of faith. I didn’t think Amber would live, and my negative attitude was hindering my ability to pray for a miraculous recovery. To make matters worse, my heart was hardened. A part of me didn’t want to see Amber back on the streets, causing more problems and continuing her lifestyle of debauchery.
Eventually, I was able to work through my negative attitude and get back into my heart. A few days later, a lady from my Bible study group offered to go with me to the hospital and pray for Amber. We were able to pray with love in our hearts. We interceded on her behalf and asked God to forgive all her sins. I took a bottle of anointing oil along, and when the nurses weren’t looking, I anointed Amber’s head and hands.
After we anointed Amber with oil and prayed the prayer of faith with love in our hearts, Amber started to recover. The next day she regained consciousness and began breathing on her own. A few days later, she could sit up in a wheelchair by herself. Within two weeks, she was strong enough to start fighting with the nurses. On several occasions, the medical staff had to sedate her and strap her to the bed, because she tried to leave the hospital with the feeding tube still attached to her stomach.
Six months later, Amber had made a complete recovery. God worked a profound miracle, and all we needed to do to access the Lord’s healing power was follow the simple instructions contained in Sacred Scripture. According to Matthew 21:22: Whatever you ask for in prayer with faith, you will receive.
Before God’s healing power could be released into Amber’s life, someone needed to believe that her situation was not hopeless. Someone needed to believe that God had the power, desire and love to restore Amber to perfect health.
What are you waiting for? God’s promise of healing is for you. Call upon Spirit-filled believers to pray with you. Tap into the power of faith and stand firm on the promises contained in Sacred Scripture. Allow the Lord’s miracle-working power to transform your life today.