KENNETH HAGIN’S HEALING TESTIMONY

The following is an excerpt from a pdf file I found online including the personal testimony of Kenneth Hagin regarding his miraculous healing, even after physicians, one who had practiced at the Mayo Clinic, pronounced he would certainly die; there was no hope. In fact, he had three near death experiences before he was finally healed.

Please take the time to read the testimony (about 10 pages) of this great man of God, if you have never heard it, because you will gain a better understanding of God’s healing power, if you have never experienced it, and it will change your life.


Chapter 1

How God Raised Me from

a Deathbed

 

“He is dead,” stated the doctor who delivered me. I

was born prematurely on August 20, 1917 in a house in

the 900 block of East Standifer Street in McKinney, Texas.

My Grandmother Drake, who was present at my birth,

later told me there was no sign of life in me. Thinking I

was dead, the doctor laid me on the foot of the bed, and

he and my grandmother continued to work with my

mother, who was in very serious condition. She had been

ill for several weeks before I was born.

After about 45 minutes had passed and my mother was

doing better, the doctor told my grandmother he would

run to his office to get some supplies he needed. While he

was gone, my grandmother picked me up to carry me out.

Suddenly she detected a sign of life. She washed me and

put a little dress on me, but she had to use a makeshift

diaper because the regular kind would have swallowed me.

Then she weighed me, and with the little dress and diaper

on I weighed slightly more than two pounds.

Today, even with our advanced medical knowledge and

skill and with the incubators we have for premature babies,

the chances are practically nil of a baby surviving who

weighs fewer than two pounds. I was born in a day when

there were no incubators, and I was born in the home, so

my chances of living were almost nonexistent.

‘The Baby Is Dead’

After a while, the doctor returned and my grandmother

I Believe In Visions

asked him what she should feed the baby.

“The baby is dead,” he said. “I examined him earlier.”

When she told him I was alive and she had washed and

dressed me, he reached into his pocket for a sample

package of baby formula. “Feed this to him,” he said. “It

will last longer than he will.”

Granny mixed the baby formula and fed it to me. After

that was all gone, she gave me milk, feeding it to me a

drop at a time with an eyedropper. She said she had never

seen anyone so tiny — she had a large comb that was no

longer than I was. She said sometimes even a single drop

of milk in my mouth would choke me, causing me to

strangle and turn blue.

My childhood was not like other children’s, for I had

been born with a deformed heart and was not able to lead

a normal, active life. I wasn’t completely incapacitated,

but my activities were limited. I wasn’t able to run and

play as other children did.

In those days, children didn’t start school until the age

of 7. However, I learned to read when I was 6. My brother

was already in school, so I read his books. Since I couldn’t

use my body, I used my mind.

Soon after I started school, I learned that children are

prone to take advantage of a weaker child. I guess that

proves how big they are. I couldn’t fight to defend myself

because I would lose my breath, turn blue, and almost pass

out, so I decided I would have to have an equalizer.

There was one boy in our class who was the bully of

the playground. He was three years older than the rest

of us, because he had failed three grades. He would run

up to someone and knock him or her down. Knowing I

couldn’t fight, he seemed to delight in picking on me. One

How God Raised Me from a Deathbed

day I found a two-by-four that was about 20 inches long.

The next time he hit me, I got the two-by-four, slipped

up on him, and knocked him in the head. He was out cold

for 40 minutes. He soon learned to leave me alone. (When

a person can’t fight, he has to learn to take care of himself

some way — and I had.) My older brother learned not to

fight with me, either, for I knocked him in the head with

a hammer once, and he was unconscious for 45 minutes!

During the years when I was growing up, I was always

very small for my age. My brother would tell me I would

never be any bigger than a 56-year-old man we knew who

weighed only 89 pounds and was the size of a 10-year-old

boy. When my brother wanted me to do something for him,

he would say that if I didn’t do it I would turn into a girl

when I was 12 years old. Of course, he was always about

half a block away and running when he said that, because

he knew I would hit him with anything I could get my

hands on!

My father left Momma and us children when I was still

very young, leaving her with all the responsibility for providing

and caring for us. When I was 9 years old I went

to live with Momma’s parents, because Momma’s health

was very poor and she needed help in taking care of us.

Bed-fast at Age 15

At the age of 15, just four months before my 16th birthday,

I became totally bed-fast. Five doctors, including one

who had practiced at the Mayo Clinic, were on my case.

My Grandfather Drake, although not a wealthy man, was

a man of some means. He had quite a bit of property,

although this was during the days of the Great Depres-

sion when property wasn’t worth too much. If the doctors

at Mayo Clinic had been able to help me, he would have

sent me there. However, our doctors said that the doctor

who had been at Mayo was one of the best doctors in

America, and if he said nothing could be done, it would

be a waste of time and money to make the trip to the Mayo

Clinic. They said there was absolutely no hope for me; I

didn’t have one chance in a million of living. As far as

medical science was concerned, to their knowledge, no one

in my condition had ever lived past 16 years of age.

Day after day and week after week I lay on the bed

of sickness, wondering what was wrong with me. I knew

something was wrong with my heart, but I didn’t know

exactly what it was, because the doctors didn’t tell me.

Later I learned that I had two serious organic heart

problems.

My body became partially paralyzed. I can remember

seeing a glass of water beside my bed, wanting to drink

it, and not understanding why I couldn’t get it. After strict

concentration of all my mental powers on it for 45

minutes, I would be able to reach my hand over to it, but I

couldn’t pick the glass up. One of the doctors said I was

bordering on total paralysis and eventually would become

completely paralyzed.

Sometimes three weeks would pass when I didn’t know

anything. My mother and grandmother fed and cared for

me, for I was as helpless as a baby. I reached the point

where I could hardly hear them talking to me. They later

told me that they would put their mouths down to my ear

and shout at the top of their voices, but I could barely hear

them. It seemed as if they were a block away. I was

somewhere between reality and unreality.

How God Raised Me from a Deathbed

I gave my heart to the Lord and was born again the

very first night I became bed-fast. That was Saturday,

April 22, 1933 at 7:40 p.m. in the south bedroom of

405 North College Street in McKinney, Texas.

Earlier that evening, my heart had stopped beating and

the spiritual man who lives in my body had departed.

When death seized my body, my grandmother, my

younger brother, and my mother were sitting in the room.

I had time only to tell them “goodbye.” Then the inner

man rushed out of my body and left my body lying dead,

with eyes set and flesh cold.*

I went down, down, down until the lights of the earth

faded away. I don’t mean I fainted — I don’t mean I was

unconscious — I have proof that I was actually dead. My

eyes were set, my heart had stopped beating, and my pulse

had ceased.

The Scriptures tell us about the lost being cast into

outer darkness where there is weeping and gnashing of

teeth (Matt. 25:30). The farther down I went, the blacker

it became, until it was all blackness — I could not have

seen my hand if it had been one inch in front of my eyes.

And the farther down I went, the hotter and more stifling

it became.

Finally, far below me, I could see lights flickering on

the walls of the caverns of the damned. The lights were

caused by the fires of hell. The giant, white-crested orb

of flame pulled me, drawing me as a magnet draws metal

to itself. I did not want to go, but just as metal jumps

*For a complete account of this experience, see Kenneth Hagin’s minibook,

I Went to Hell.

to the magnet, my spirit was drawn to that place. I could

not take my eyes off of it. The heat beat me in the face.

Many years have gone by, yet I can see it just as clearly

today as I saw it then. It is as fresh in my memory as if

it just happened.

I came to the entrance of hell. People ask, “What does

the entrance of hell look like?” I cannot describe it, because

if I tried, I would have to have something with which to

compare it. (Similarly, if a person had never seen a tree

in his life, it would be impossible to tell him what a tree

looks like.)

Coming to the entrance, I paused momentarily, because

I did not want to go in. I sensed that one more foot, one

more step, one more yard, and I would be gone forever

and could not come out of that horrible place!

Upon reaching the bottom of the pit, I became conscious

of some kind of spirit being by my side. I had not

looked at him, because I could not take my gaze off of the

fires of hell. But when I paused, the creature laid his hand

on my arm to escort me in.

At that same moment, a voice spoke from far above

the blackness, above the earth, and above the heavens. I

don’t know if it was the voice of God, Jesus, an angel, or

who. I did not see him, and I do not know what he said,

because he did not speak in English; he spoke in some other

tongue.

When he spoke, his words reverberated throughout the

region of the damned, shaking it like a leaf in the wind,

and causing the creature to take his hand off my arm.

I did not turn around, but an unseen power, like a suction,

pulled me up, away from the fire, away from the heat,

How God Raised Me from a Deathbed

and back into the shadows of the absorbing darkness.

I began to ascend until I came to the top of the pit and

saw the lights of the earth. I saw my grandparents’ home,

went through the wall back into my bedroom, and it was

just as real to me as it was any time I had entered through

the door (my spirit needed no door).

I slipped back into my body as easily as a man slips

into his trousers in the morning. It was the same way in

which I had gone out — through my mouth.

I began to talk to my grandmother. She said, “Son,

I thought you were dead.”

My great-grandfather had been a medical doctor, and

Granny had worked with him. She later told me, “I dressed

many people for burial and laid them out in days gone by.

I have had much experience with death, but I learned more

about death in dealing with you and your experiences than

I ever knew before. You were dead. You had no pulse or

heartbeat, and your eyes were set.”

‘I Am Dying’

“Granny,” I said, “I am going again. I am dying.

Where is Momma?”

“Your mother is out on the porch,” she replied. And

about that time I heard my mother praying at the top of

her voice as she walked up and down the porch.

“Where is my brother?” I asked.

“He ran next door to call the doctor,” Granny

answered.

If you’re not ready to go, you want somebody with you.

You’re afraid! I said, “Granny, don’t leave me! Don’t leave

me! I’m afraid I’ll go while you’re gone! I want somebody

with me! Don’t leave me!” So she gathered me into her

arms again.

I said, “Tell Momma I said goodbye. Tell Momma I

love her. Tell Momma I appreciate everything she has ever

done for me and for all of us. And you tell Momma that

I said if I’ve ever put a wrinkle in her face, or a gray hair

in her head, I’m sorry, and I ask her to forgive me.”

I felt myself slipping. I said, “Granny, I’m going again.

You were a second mother to me when Momma’s health

failed. I appreciate you. Now I’m going, and I won’t be

back this time.” I knew I was dying, unprepared to meet

God. I kissed her on the cheek and said goodbye.

My heart stopped beating for the second time. It’s

almost as real to me today, nearly half a century later, as

it was that day. I felt the blood cease to circulate. The tips

of my toes went numb — then my feet, ankles, knees, hips,

stomach, and heart. I leaped out of my body and began

to descend: down, down, down. Oh, I know it was just a

few seconds, but it seemed like an eternity.

I began to descend again into the darkness until the

lights of earth had faded. Down below, the same experience

occurred. The voice spoke from heaven and again my spirit

came up out of that place — back into my room and back

into my body. The only difference this time was that I

came up at the foot of the bed.

I began to talk to Granny again. I said, “I will not be

back this time, Granny.” I asked, “Where is Grandpa? I

want to tell Grandpa goodbye.”

She said, “Son, you know your Granddad went down

to the east part of town to collect rent off of some of his

rent houses.”

How God Raised Me from a Deathbed

“Oh,” I said, “I remember that now. I just forgot

momentarily.”

I said, “Granny, tell Grandpa goodbye. I’ve never

known what it means to have a daddy. He’s been the

nearest to a daddy I’ve known. He gave me a home when

I had none. Tell him I appreciate him. Tell him I love him.

Tell Grandpa that I said goodbye.”

Then I left a word for my sister and two brothers, and

my heart stopped for the third time. I could feel the circulation

as it cut off again — and I leaped out of my body

and began to descend.

Until this time, I had thought, This is not happening

to me. This is just a hallucination. It can ‘t be real!

But now I thought, This is the third time. I won ‘t come

back this time! Darkness encompassed me ’round about,

darker than any night man has ever seen.

The Horrors of Hell

I wish I had adequate words to describe the horrors

of hell. People go through this life so complacently, so

unconcerned, as if they will not have to face hell. But God’s

Word and my own personal experience tell me differently.

I know what it is to be unconscious — it is black when

you are unconscious — but there is no blackness to compare

with outer darkness.

As I began to descend in the darkness this third time,

my spirit cried out, “God, I belong to the church! I’ve been

baptized in water!” I waited for Him to answer, but no

answer came — only the echo of my own voice as it came

back to mock me.

It will take more than church membership — it will take

more than being baptized in water — to miss hell and make

heaven. Jesus said, “.. .Ye must be born again” (John 3:7).

Certainly I believe in being baptized in water — but

only after a person is born again. Certainly I believe in

joining the church — but only after a person is born again.

If you merely join the church and are baptized in water

without being born again, you will go to hell!

The second time I cried a little louder, “God! I belong

to the church! I’ve been baptized in water!” Again I waited

for an answer, but there was no answer, only the echo of

my own voice through the darkness.

It would frighten a congregation out of their wits if

I ever imitated the way I screamed the third time,

although, if I could scare them out of hell and into heaven,

I’d do it! I literally screamed, “GOD! GOD! I BELONG

TO THE CHURCH! I’VE BEEN BAPTIZED IN

WATER!” And all I heard was the echo of my own voice.

I came again to the bottom of that pit. Again I could

feel the heat as it beat me in the face. Again I approached

the entrance, the gates into hell itself. That creature took

me by the arm. I intended to put up a fight if I could to

keep from going in. I only managed to slow down my descent

just a little, and he took me by the arm.

Thank God that voice spoke. I don’t know who it was

— I didn’t see anybody — I just heard the voice. I don’t

know what he said, but whatever he said, that place shook;

it just trembled. And that creature took his hand off my

arm.

It was just as if there was a suction to my back parts.

It pulled me back, away from the entrance to hell, until

I stood in the shadows. Then it pulled me up headfirst.

As I was going up through the darkness, I began to

How God Raised Me from a Deathbed

pray. My spirit, the man who lives inside this physical

body, is an eternal being, a spirit man. I began to pray,

“0 God! I come to You in the Name of the Lord Jesus

Christ. I ask You to forgive me of my sins and to cleanse

me from all sin.”

I came up beside the bed. The difference between the

three experiences was that I came up on the porch the first

time; I came up at the foot of the bed the second time;

and I came up right beside the bed the third time.

When I got inside my body, my physical voice picked

up and continued my prayer right in the middle of the

sentence. I was already praying out of my spirit.

Now, we didn’t have all the automobiles in 1933 that

we have today — that was in the Depression. But they

tell me that between me and Momma praying so loud, traffic

was lined up for two blocks on either side of our house!

They heard me praying from inside the house, and they

heard my mother as she walked the porch praying at the

top of her voice.

I looked at the clock and saw it was 20 minutes before

8 o’clock. That was the very hour I was born again due

to the mercy of God through the prayers of my mother.

I felt wonderful — it was just like a two-ton weight had

rolled off of my chest. Although I was rejoicing and was

happy in my spirit — although I felt wonderful spiritually

— I felt no better physically. The doctors had been called,

and they told my family that I was going to die. I thought

I would die that night, but it no longer bothered me. I knew

I was ready to go.

My experience of being brought back from the dead is

not new. Jesus raised three people from the dead: Lazarus,

Jairus’s daughter, and the widow’s son. The Apostle Peter

raised Dorcas from the dead; the Apostle Paul raised a

young man from the dead; and others throughout Church

history have had similar experiences.

The Best Thing in the World

Through my experience, God brought me to a

knowledge of salvation, which is the best thing in the world

to know. I was so thankful to know that my heart was

right with God, and to know that if I should die before

morning I would go to be with Him.

Every night when the lights were out and my family

was in bed, I was left alone with my thoughts. I did a lot

of thinking and praying. I remember thanking God that

I was saved and was His child.

I told the Lord I was going to go to sleep smiling and

praising Him, and if I should die during the night, they

would find me with a smile on my face and a praise in my

heart. While praising the Lord, I would drift off to sleep.

I never had to take anything to help me sleep, and this

is still true today.

The Bible tells us that God “giveth his beloved sleep”

(Ps. 127:2). I am His beloved, as is every Christian, so we

can simply take that verse, thank Him for it, and go to

sleep peacefully. We don’t need any tranquilizers.

The next morning I was awakened by the sun streaming

across my bed. The first thing I did was to praise God.

I thanked Him for the light of another day. I thanked Him

for the sun, trees, flowers, grass, and leaves. I thanked

Him for the songs the birds sang. I praised Him for all

of these little things that are so wonderful, marvelous, and

beautiful.

How God Raised Me from a Deathbed

I had never heard anyone praise God like this, but

when one’s heart is in tune with God and he knows he is

ready for heaven, there is an automatic praise in his soul. I

didn’t know anything about divine healing. I didn’t

know that God answered that kind of prayer. But I

thanked God that I didn’t die and go to hell!

At noon, when Granny would bring my lunch to me

on a tray, I would pray and thank God for food. Then I

would say, “Lord, I guess I won’t be here by the time the

evening shadows fall. I’ll probably slip away this afternoon.

But I’m so glad I am saved! I’m so glad You didn’t

let me die and go to hell! I ‘m so glad I didn’t have to stay

down there! “

After a while, evening would come, and soon I would

be alone in the dark once more. Again I would praise the

Lord for salvation. I would tell Him that I probably would

pass away during the night, but I was thankful to be saved

and ready to meet Him. I would go to sleep smiling and

praising the . Day after day, week after week, month

after month I did this.

In the fall of that year, when the weather became cooler,

I began to feel somewhat better. Granny would prop me

up in bed. Then she would bring her Bible to me and prop

it up in front of me. I often say that I was a Baptist boy

reading my grandmother’s “Methodist” Bible.

When I first started reading the Bible I could read only

10 minutes at a time — I couldn’t see after that. The next

day I would read for another 10 or 15 minutes. After a

few weeks of reading this way, I could read for an hour

at a time. Finally I could read for as long as I liked.

I had been brought up in Sunday School. I can’t

remember the first time I went to church, nor can I

remember the first time I ever read the Bible. It seems,

too, that I have prayed all my life. But until that Satur –

day night when God permitted me to have a glimpse of

hell, I really had never been born again.

You can be religious and not be a born-again child of

God. When you are born again, however, the same Bible

that you have been reading all your life suddenly looks

different. As I read Granny’s Bible, I found that Jesus

Christ is the same yesterday, today, and forever.

The doctors said that I could die at any time, so when

I began reading the Bible I began with the New Testament.

I reasoned, “I have to utilize this 10 minutes, or

whatever time I have, so I will start with the New

Testament.”

The Verse That Changed My Life

I read through the Book of Matthew and began reading

in the Book of Mark. There I read a verse which was to

transform my life: “Therefore I say unto you, What things

soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive

them, and ye shall have them” (Mark 11:24).

Salvation is, of course, the most important thing that

can happen to a person. But you cannot possibly understand

the all-consuming desire a person can have for

health, healing, and life when he never has had a normal

childhood, has been sick all of his life, and then lies bed-fast

month after month, knowing that this will be his

deathbed before long.

The greatest desire of my heart was to be well and

strong. And here in this verse of Scripture Jesus said,

“What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that

ye receive them, and ye shall have them. ” It seemed as

if someone had turned on a bright light in a very dark

room. And you cannot imagine how dark it can be, even

in the daytime, when you are shut in between four walls

and are staring at the ceiling all the time with a feeling

of utter hopelessness.

I didn’t know that the Psalmist had said, “Thy word

is a lamp unto my feet, and a light unto my path”

(Ps. 119:105). But without knowing the Word, I had the

experience. The whole room suddenly seemed engulfed in

light, and there seemed to be light on the inside of me.

I never have forgotten that experience or that Scripture.

It is as if it were branded on my heart.

Naturally, the devil was right there to plant doubt in

my heart. The minute the light came, he came, too. I didn’t

know at the time, however, that it was the devil. I didn’t

have enough spiritual discernment or knowledge of the

Word to know.

Subtly the thought came that maybe the words

” . . .what things soever ye desire” didn’t apply to physical

things, but just to spiritual things. Maybe it just meant

” . . .what things soever ye desire” spiritually.

The light went out. Doubt had blown out the candle

of faith, and I was in the dark again. I had believed what

the devil had told me, and again I thought there was no

hope. I thought I had to die!

I decided to send for my pastor and ask him exactly

what Mark 11:24 meant. Looking back now, I see how

foolish it was to send for someone to ask if Jesus really

told the truth or not! But this was all so new to me, and

I had great confidence in my pastor up until this time. I

would have believed anything he told me. I was just like

so many other people who are following men and not really

following God.

Live by the Word

I try to tell people whom I minister to not to believe

something just because I say it. That doesn’t make it so.

If I cannot prove by the Bible that what I am saying is

truth, then don’t believe it. Don’t accept it. I have no right

to force any of my theories or pet doctrines on someone

else. I would not want to impose any of my convictions

on others. Let us live by the Word of God.

Longing to talk to my pastor about this Scripture, I

called Granny to my bedside and asked her to go get the

pastor, who lived about four blocks from our house. She

walked to the parsonage, asked to see the pastor, and told

him that I wanted him to come to see me. He said he was

very busy that day, but he would come two days later.

She suggested that he come early in the morning, because

I was more rested and alert then than later in the day.

(After about 10 o’clock in the morning, I usually lay in

a stupor for the rest of the day.) He said he would come

about 8:30 in the morning.

During the years before I became bed-fast, I had been

very faithful in attending Sunday School. I never had

missed. Yet in all the time I had been sick, the pastor had

not been to see me once.

When Thursday morning came, the day appointed for

his visit, I eagerly looked forward to seeing him and asking

him the questions that burned on my heart. Eight thirty

came and went. Nine o’clock came, and I looked

anxiously for my pastor. Nine-thirty, then 10 o’clock, but

How God Raised Me from a Deathbed

still no word from him. And even though I lay on that bed

for another entire year, he never did come to see me.

Although I was crushed with disappointment and

disillusionment at the time, I could look back later and

see that it was best that the pastor did not come, for he

would have told me the wrong thing. Rather than inspiring

my faith to believe God for my physical healing, he simply

would have reinforced the doubts I already had.

When my pastor didn’t come to see me, my grandmother

walked to another part of town to see yet another

preacher in whom she had great confidence. She told him

about my condition, and that I had asked to see a preacher.

He told her that he would come, but he, too, failed to keep

his promise. Again I cried with disappointment when he

did not arrive, and again it really was a blessing that he

didn’t. (Many things we cry about are for our own good,

but we don’t realize it at the time. We wouldn’t be crying

if we could just see into the future.)

My aunt, who was a member of another church, said

her pastor would come to see me. However, by this time

I was certain that he, too, would not come. My aunt was

superintendent of the Junior Department in the Sunday

School of her church. During the years I was eligible to

go in her department, when I was 9 through 11 years of

age, I went to Sunday School with her and never had

missed a Sunday. I had met her pastor, of course.

Job’s Comforter Arrives

One day I heard someone knocking on the front door.

A member of my family answered the door, and the

minute I heard the voice of the caller, I recognized it as

the voice

of my aunt’s pastor. Suddenly my heart leaped with joy

because I thought I could ask him what this Scripture

meant. Surely he would know and could clear up this confusion

in my mind. I knew if this Scripture meant what

I thought it meant, I was coming off of that bed!

At that time only one person at a time was allowed in

my room, so the pastor came in alone. Until he stooped

over me, I couldn’t see him too clearly. Then his face came

into focus.

Partially paralyzed in my throat and tongue, I could

not speak distinctly, and I would say a lot of things

backwards. Sometimes it would take me a long time to

get my words out. Often I would have to stumble around

for 10 minutes before I could ask a question. My brain

didn’t seem to work right.

I moved my mouth and lips, trying to say something.

I tried to call his name. I tried to tell him to get my Bible

and turn to Mark 11:24 and tell me what it meant, but

I couldn’t get the words out. I was just stuttering; I

couldn’t frame the words.

Before I could say anything, he thought that I was

unable to talk. He patted my hand and drawled in his professionally

pious voice, “Just be patient, my boy. In a few

more days it will ALL be over.” Then he laid my hand

down and left the room.

Although this pastor had prayed no prayer with me,

he went into the living room and said a prayer with my

family. For some reason, my hearing was very keen at this

time, and I could distinctly hear every word he said,

although he didn’t pray very loudly. He said, “Heavenly

Father, we ask You to bless this dear grandmother and

grandfather who are about to be bereaved of their grand-

son. Prepare their hearts for the dark hour that is about

to come upon them.”

As I listened to this prayer, I was like the naughty

little boy who was being punished by his schoolteacher by

having to stand in a corner. He might have been standing

up outwardly, but he thought to himself that on the inside

he was sitting down. I felt just as rebellious as that little

boy. Although I couldn’t speak the words audibly, on the

inside of me I was shouting, “I’m not dead yet!”

I listened as this pastor continued his prayer. “Bless

this dear, brokenhearted mother who is about to lose her

son.” My mother had had some hope until then, but he

robbed her of what she had, and she started crying.

Planning My Funeral

After the preacher left, my grandmother came into my

room and asked me if it would be all right for this preacher

to preach at my funeral, as he was the only one who had

come to see me. I agreed that this would be all right.

Granny then asked me what songs I wanted sung at

my funeral. I told her I didn’t have any favorites. They

could sing whatever they wanted. She suggested two or

three, and I said they would be all right. Then she asked

me about pallbearers. She suggested some, and I told her

they would be all right. My mother asked me if I wanted

to be buried in a certain place that she mentioned, and I

agreed. Then they left my room. Although the sun was

still shining brightly outside, it seemed ever so dark in

my room.

All of this so stunned me that I lay motionless on my

bed for 30 days. 1 gave up and wanted to die. After about

30 days, I began to read the Bible again. I still couldn’t

seem to get away from Mark 11:24: “What things soever

ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and

ye shall have them.”

Later in the fall I became bolder. I told the Lord I had

sent for two preachers who didn’t come. The third came,

but I realized that it would have been better if he hadn’t.

I told the Lord that when He was on earth He said,

“What things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that

ye receive them, and ye shall have them,” and that I

desired to be healed.

I told Him I was going to take Him at His Word: I

was going to believe He told the truth, and this verse

meant what it said. If the New Testament was true, then

I was going to come off this bed.

I told Him I was going to live and not die. “If I don’t

get off this bed, then the Bible isn’t so, and I am going

to have them take it and throw it in the trash can.” I meant

business!

I was determined to get up from that bed, but I still

didn’t know how to act my faith in that verse of Scripture.

A person can cry, pray, and do everything he knows

to do, but if he doesn’t have faith, he will remain the same.

Jesus didn’t say just to pray. The key word in this Scripture

is believe.

Feelings vs. Faith

At this time, I didn’t fully understand faith. I prayed

and prayed, but I didn’t get any results. I was sure that

God heard me, and I had a good feeling inside me. Yet my

heart still wasn’t beating normally.

What I didn’t know then is that we have to go by faith,

not by our feelings. We have to stand on the promises in

God’s Word and not look at the circumstances surrounding

us.

I did improve to the extent that I was able to use my

hands. Sometimes Granny would prop me up in bed for

a short time. I would reach down and feel my legs. There

was no muscle at all, just bone. I was extremely skinny.

I seemed to be making no real headway, and I said,

“Lord, I thought You would heal me.” I was so sure that

He had heard me, but I felt no better. I know now that

just feeling better after you pray is no sign that God heard

you; likewise, feeling no better after you pray is no sign

that God didn’t hear you.

We cannot rely on how we feel. We have to come back

to what God’s Word says about the matter. For months

I struggled this way.

When New Year’s Day 1934 rolled around, it was

moving day. Grandpa owned several houses in town, and

he decided to move into another one of them. He had told

the people who were renting this certain house that he

wanted it for his own use. When they moved, he had it

redecorated, and then we were ready to move in.

When the movers came, they moved the furniture from

the other parts of the house first, saving the furniture in

my bedroom until last. When they came to move my furniture,

an ambulance came and moved me.

While I was riding along in the ambulance, one of the

attendants remarked that he had heard I had been in bed

for about a year now.

“Nine months, to be exact,” I told him.

He said that if I felt like it, they would take me for a

little ride through the residential areas so I could see the

scenery. I was so happy for this chance to see things I had

been missing for so many months. The smallest joys, which

we so often take for granted, can bring immense pleasure

to one who has been deprived of them for so long.

I was able to move my head to look out the window

as they drove slowly through the town. Then the ambulance

attendant said, “Son, if you feel up to it, we’ll drive

down to the square. Since it is a holiday, there probably

won’t be much traffic, and you might enjoy it.” How

wonderful, I thought, to get to see that old courthouse

again, the stores, and other buildings in this beloved little

town of McKinney with its population of 8,000 or 9,000.

I saw the familiar old drugstore on the corner. I saw

the J. C. Penney’s store. Next to that was the Mode O’Day

dress shop and next to that was Woolworth’s. On down

was a shoe store and on the next corner a ladies’ ready-to-

wear shop. Then we turned to go down the south side

of the square. I drank in all of these sights, not knowing

when, if ever, I might see them again.

Just as we turned the corner and started down the

south side of the square, I turned and looked at the old

courthouse that sat in the middle of the square. I shall

never forget that moment as long as I live. In that instant

something said to me, “Well, you never did think you

would ever see these old buildings again. And you wouldn’t

have, if it hadn’t been for the kindness of the man who

is taking you.”

One Gleam of Light

Then I remembered the verse in Mark 11:24: “What

things soever ye desire, when ye pray, believe that ye

receive them, and ye shall have them, ” and I recalled the

verse that went before it which said, “.. .he shall have

whatsoever he saith.”

As I said it in that ambulance that day, tears rolled

down my face. I didn’t understand all that I know now.

I had just one small gleam of light. It was like a little light

that might peep through a crack in the door, but it was

a beginning point for me this first day of January 1934

about 2 o’clock in the afternoon.

I said, “Yes, I will see these buildings and this courthouse

again. I will come and stand in this courthouse

square, because Jesus said that what you believe in your

heart and say with your mouth shall come to pass.” I had

committed myself.

January and February went by, and I was still bed-fast.

March, April, May, June, and July went by. The devil

might have said it wasn’t working, but I held onto my confession

and refused to give up. I kept telling the Lord that

I was going to hold on, that I was standing on His Word,

and it had to work!

Finally I saw what I had been doing wrong: I wasn ‘t

really believing what God’s Word said. I was saying it in

my mind, but I wasn’t believing it with my heart or acting

upon it with my heart.

I realized that for months I had been hoping I would

grow better gradually. I was praying with hope, not faith,

and that won’t get the job done.

I realized that my faith was not yet based on what

God’s Word said, but only on what I could see and feel.

I could feel that my heart wasn’t beating right yet. I often

would look at my legs and arms and start crying because

they were unchanged. I was believing only what I could

see with my physical eyes.

Thus I came to the second week of August 1934. That

Tuesday, I prayed through the early morning hours. At

the usual time my mother came in and helped me with my

bath. It was about 8:30 when she left the room. I continued

to pray.

My Struggle With Mark 11:24

I had been struggling with Mark 11:24 for a long time,

but I still wasn’t any better. I told the Lord, “You said

when You were on earth that ‘what things soever ye desire,

when ye pray, believe that ye receive them, and ye shall

have them.‘ I desire to be healed, and I believe. If You

were to stand here in my room and I could see You with

my physical eyes and take hold of your hand, and if You

were to tell me my trouble is that I’m not believing, I

would have to say this isn’t true. I am believing.”

Then a voice on the inside of me spoke so clearly it

seemed as if someone had spoken audibly: “Yes, you are

believing as far as you know, but the last clause of that

verse says, ‘and ye shall have them.‘ “

I believed as much as I knew how to believe, but I

didn’t know enough. A person cannot pray and get faith.

The Bible says that faith comes “.. .by hearing, and

hearing by the Word of God” (Rom. 10:17). We need

knowledge of the Word. When this light of knowledge from

the Word comes, faith is automatically there.

In this moment, I saw exactly what that verse in Mark

11:24 meant. Until then I was going to wait till I was

actually healed. I was looking at my body and testing my

heartbeat to see if I had been healed. But I saw that the

verse says that you have to believe when you pray. The

having comes after the believing. I had been reversing it.

I was trying to have first and then believe second. That

is what most people do.

‘I See It!’

“I see it. I see it!” I said with joy. “I see what I’ve

got to do, Lord. I’ve got to believe that my heart is well

while I’m still lying here on this bed, and while my heart

is not beating right. I’ve got to believe that my paralysis

is gone while I’m still lying here helpless, flat on my back.

“I believe in my heart that You have heard my prayer!

I believe that my heart is healed and that my paralysis

is gone! I believe in my heart that I have received healing

for my body!”

As I said this, the thought came to me, “You’re a

pretty thing. Just look at you, claiming to be a Christian

and here you are lying. Don’t you know the Bible says that

all liars will have their part in the lake that burneth with

fire and brimstone?”

“I am not a liar,” I declared.

“Certainly you are, because you said you are healed

and you’re not.”

“I didn’t say that I am healed because I feel like it,”

I stated. “I’m healed because I believe it. And, devil, if

you say I am not, then you are a liar. I am acting on the

Word of God. If I am not healed, then Jesus is a liar. Go

argue with God about it; don’t fuss with me.”

With this, the devil left me alone. Then I said, “Thank

God, I’m healed.” I lifted my hands and praised God.

Momentarily, I started to feel my heart to see if it was

beating normally, but I caught myself and stated that I

wasn’t going by feelings but by faith. I kept saying that

my heart was well. I praised the Lord in this manner for

about 10 minutes.

Up and Out of Bed

Then the Holy Spirit spoke as an inner witness on the

inside of me and said, “You believe that you are healed.

If you are healed, then you should be up and out of that

bed.”

I felt this was right, so I pushed myself up to a sitting

position with my hands. Then I reached down, got hold

of my feet, and swung them around to the side of the bed.

I couldn’t feel them, but I could see them. Then I said that

I was going to stand and walk.

The devil fought me every inch of the way. He kept

telling me that I was a fool. Of course I couldn’t walk, he

would tell me. (As long as the devil can keep us in the sense

realm, he will defeat us. But if we will stay in the faith

realm, we will defeat him!

I got hold of the bedpost and pulled myself up. The

room started spinning, for I had been in this bed for 16

months. I closed my eyes, wrapped my arms around the

bedpost, and stood there for a few minutes. Finally I opened

my eyes and everything had stopped spinning.

I declared I was healed and I was going to walk. Feeling

began to return to my legs! It seemed as if two million

pins were pricking me. The nerves were being reactivated.

I rejoiced because it was so wonderful to have feeling back

in those lifeless legs, in spite of the painful prickling sen-

sation. After a short time, the pain left and I felt normal.

Determined now more than ever to walk, I held onto

the bedpost and cautiously took a step. Then I took

another. Holding onto pieces of furniture, I managed to

walk around the room one time.

I told no one of this, but the next morning I got up

and did the same thing. That night I asked my mother

to bring me some clothes because I was going to get up

and go to the breakfast table the next morning. She was

shocked, but she did as I asked. On the third morning I

got out of bed, dressed myself, walked into the kitchen,

and joined my family at the breakfast table. And I ‘ve been

doing it ever since.

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