In this blog post, I share my recollections of my father’s illness and death, and how God used these experiences to call me into a healing ministry.

The Day My Father Died

As soon as the guard approached, I knew. The phone call from my sister confirmed it. You were finally gone. Calmly, I got off at the next station and took the first train back in the opposite direction. I wouldn’t be attending any lectures today.

The frozen fields in the sunshine are what I recall. Staring out of the carriage window, the thin, wintry sunlight was weak and pale, with too little heat to melt the hard white frost on the meadow.

“You were already dead to me,” I thought. “I lost you long ago.”

The eyes which attempted to look up and focus, as I spoke to you, stared at me from out of an empty shell of a man. The illness stole you from me, years before you left this earth for good.

My heart felt as bitter cold as the frosty fields. Frozen in a moment in time, my heartbeat stopped the day I heard the diagnosis.

“You mustn’t tell anyone,” we were told. So I kept the secret sickness locked away in the deepest recesses of my heart, together with all the fear, the loss, the pain of losing my Daddy.

I missed you; or at least, I missed an illusion of who I dreamed you might be for me. The dream of a father who would protect me, love me and honour me, as I developed into womanhood, died, too, with the diagnosis.

My femininity terrified me, even more so now, with you gone. Chained to that wheelchair, your crippled body and slurred speech concealed a brilliant mind, the disability robbing you of your true identity. How could I ever know what kind of father you wanted to be? What kind of dreams did you have for your daughters, what kind of legacy would you have left, had the illness not taken you prematurely?

The frosty day that you died is a picture memory, unforgettable in its numbness.

In Pursuit of the Healing Power of Jesus

So many years have gone by. I’m a new creation now, with heart unlocked, led into healing and wholeness through Jesus, filled with warmth and freedom.

Yet I still hate wheelchairs and all the losses they represent.

My father had been diagnosed with multiple sclerosis at a crucial time in my life, as I was entering puberty. I know only too well the devastating effects that sickness and disability can have on whole families.

When I started following Jesus, I quickly embraced Him as my personal Healer, and I started on a journey of learning everything I could about healing ministry in His name. I meditated on Bible verses and stories about Jesus healing people, I listened to healing testimonies, and I prayed for everyone I knew who was sick.

“When I saw for the first time by the Word of God that sickness was not the will of God, everything in my nature rose up to defeat the will of the devil.”
– John G Lake

When I saw that sickness is not God’s will, I started pursuing the healing power of Jesus with a passion. All of my past experiences knitted together into a future purpose, as I heard the call of God and discovered what I was born to do!

Part two to follow…