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I went to the Healing Rooms today. This is a place where people come together to pray for anyone who comes, anyone who wants to be healed, or who wants to meet with God.

I had never been to the Healing Rooms before. I always maintained that God could heal me anywhere – not solely at rooms labeled THE HEALING ROOMS.
But I misunderstood.
No one at the Healing Rooms limits God.
No one thinks that healing only happen there, and nowhere else.
No one thinks the rooms are anything more than just a venue, a meeting place.

I went a couple of weeks ago, and God did a powerful work in me. He showed some burdens that I was carrying; burdens that I needed to release to Him. While the people were praying (just two people, not a throng), I envisioned God reaching into my heart and pulling out a thick, black stump with long, gangly roots encrusted with dirt. I knew it was the burden I had been carrying for thirty years: the burning sense that it was MY responsibility to bring my dad to a saving faith in Jesus.
I let that burden go, and since then God has shown me others that I also needed to release to Him.

So, I decided to go again. I took Laurie with me.
I somehow knew she needed to be there too. She is a part of me, and what is happening in me right now is happening in her.

Today they wanted me to come in alone. Mostly because they pray in advance of prayer with the client, and they need to feel a sense of agreement in prayer, and when they don’t know the people involved, this can be difficult.
But I knew that Laurie had to come in, too. So I did what I very rarely do; I insisted. They thought it was because I was afraid to come in by myself, but I knew that God wanted us to be together.

This story could go on forever, so I’ll try to condense.

They talked about taking things slowly, and spending time listening and waiting for God. They spoke of the complexities of healing, and how it is so much more than the physical body. They spoke of bringing hope, and speaking words of peace into the trauma.

Then they began to pray.

At first the man said, “Sandy, I’m sensing that today has so much to do with your heart. Does this resonate with you?” So, I told them about what had happened last time, and how God had already been working in my heart.

Then he prayed for a bit, and he said, “Sandy, I sense that you have always been a giving person… that you love to give… but you have had a very difficult time receiving… in fact, you hate to receive. I sense that your giving has come out of a place of control. It makes you feel safe… in control. Receiving makes you feel vulnerable. Even receiving from God.”

And then I felt something break inside me.
I took in a great, deep, shuddering breath, and I cried out in a loud voice, “I repent! I repent Lord! It’s true!”

It was kind of funny because the whole situation is not a situation that I would ever place myself in – NEVER! I would NEVER be alone in a room with strangers yelling out my repentance. When I came to the Lord 30 years ago, I was alone, in my room, just me and God. And that’s the only way I have ever really met with God.

But not today.
I kept shouting, “It’s true, Lord, I repent. I repent.”
And it WAS true; I had given out of a deep sense of control. And love. Love was always there, but I see now that control was there, too. Maybe a need to measure out my response; to prove my love for people and for God; to be worthy, or to make me feel as though I deserved my salvation; to work out my salvation, maybe. I don’t really know yet what it was all about. I think it will take days for me to see what really happened today, but that’s how it started.

And the woman said, “Okay, now Sandy, it’s gone. You repented, and it’s gone. Part of the past, remembered no more. Let it go.”

So, we did that for awhile.

And then she asked me how I was feeling.
I said, touching my upper tummy, “I feel a huge heaviness. And crowding. It’s hard to breathe.”
So she prayed for God to touch my body; for the cancer cell to disappear; for healing; for restoration.
And that went on for awhile.

And then the man turned to Laurie, and he said, “And Lord, I pray for this dear woman too, that you would meet her needs.”
And I said, “Yes, Lord, thank you.”
And Laurie grasped my arm and said, “Sandy, have you let go of me, too?”

And I felt something break inside me, and I too a deep, shuddering breath, and I shouted, “Yes!! Yes! Yes, Lord, I release Laurie, and all the responsibility I feel for her!”

And the woman said, “Has this been an issue for long?”
Yes. I have not been able to bear the pain that I have been inflicting on her because of this illness. The pain of losing another friend to cancer. The pain of having to do this long, hard walk again, and to come out on the other side alone.

But today I let her go.
Thank you, Jesus.

The woman said, “And how do you feel now?
“I feel light.”
“I feel that I am made of light.”
“I am new.”

Today I surrendered all.
And I laughed.
I laughed, and laughed, and laughed.
I was drunk in the spirit.

I went outside, and I looked at Laurie, and I said, “I’ve never been here before.”
She said, “What?”
I said, “I’ve never been here before. With God. I am completely FREE. I am free, and new, and whole.”

On the drive home I said, “You know, they told me to come back anytime I wanted.”

“Good,” Laurie replied.

But I always used to think that is was rather insulting to keep asking God for the same thing over and over again. It implies that He has a hearing problem, or that He forgets, and needs to be reminded, or that He can’t be trusted to act.

The one story that I have always hated is the story of the persistent widow. If I were God, I would hate that persistent widow; she was so annoying. When my children ask me the same thing over and over again, it just grates on my nerves, and makes me want to do the opposite of what they are requesting.

Maybe that story isn’t really about what God needs, but about what we need. God doesn’t need to be reminded of our needs. In fact, He doesn’t need to be asked at all; He knows what we need before we know it.
We need to say our needs over and over again because it help us to remember that we are utterly reliant on God. Without Him we are nothing. Without Him we have nothing. Without Him we are lost, and naked, and alone.

When I was a child, going off to visit a friend, the last words my dad always said to me were, “Don’t outstay your welcome.”

So, as a child I learned that if you stay too long at your friend’s house, you won’t be welcome there anymore.
If you are troublesome while you are at your friend’s house, you won’t be welcome.
If you ask for anything while you are at your friend’s house, you won’t be welcome.

Many of my friends have probably noticed that my visits to their homes have always been rather brief. To this day, I am afraid of outstaying my welcome.

And I think I have been afraid of outstaying my welcome with God.
Of asking too much.
Of asking too often.

But not today.
Today I surrendered all.
ALL.
And I am going to keep on asking for healing.

This morning I read about Elijah under the juniper tree asking for rain.
He bowed himself to the ground, and hid himself in his mantle, and kept on asking for rain.
He sent his servant to look over and over again; and each time his servant came back and told him that he could not see rain.
And Elijah kept on asking.

And finally, the servant said that far off in the distance, he could see a tiny little rain cloud.
It rained.

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