The ultrasound technician pressed her wand deeper into Kath’s small pregnant tummy, frowning deeply at the computer screen, contradicting the festive music filtering in from the waiting room. They’d come to the city from out west for her 34 week appointment, and of course, for Christmas and icecream shopping, there not being a great selection in their tiny outback town.
But by the time Kath and Dave their mood was anything but jolly. They’d been told that the foetus was only measuring 26 weeks in size, had no bladder or kidneys and had a sac hanging from her belly button, and that Kath was on the first medical plane to Sydney with a sky high blood pressure.
“This is not funny God,” Dave muttered as they hurried to the car to sort out clothes. He stopped and flipped the car hood, dipped his finger in the sump oil and anointed his wife’s stomach.
“In the name of Jesus, I command you to grow baby.” He said.
The day passed in a blur as they packaged Kath off to Sydney and Dave raced around preparing to follow. Of top importance was alerting the hosts of their guesthouse, where a prayer retreat was in session, know what was going on. And they started praying hard for this baby.
(It was a great privilege to be able to travel with those same guys who prayed me into existence, to Papua New Guinea when I was 14 on a mission trip that changed my life. Who could have known?)
The next ultrasound technician was totally confused that the baby had grown several weeks and now had a bladder and kidney, and put a call through that the last machine must have been faulty, and the next ultrasound technician on a new machine had to say the same thing the next day when the baby had grown dramatically again.
So I was born, and weighed 1.5kg, perfectly healthy, and became the smallest baby to leave the hospital to that date.
Prayer saved my life from the very beginning and then again when I was 9, that time my pancreas clear blew up after weeks of glandular fever.
I vomiting blood and Mum taking me to the doctors over and over, till they thought it must be appendicitis and cut me open and gasped with blood in all the wrong places, sewed me up quick and ordered a plane to Sydney. Again.
They warned my parents I could come home in a box.
The doctors didn’t know what to do with that pancreas. After a few weeks on multiple IVs, including insulin, they warned I’d be a diabetic, and we celebrated with icecream when I left that hospital after only 3 weeks and I was not.
Prayer saved my life again when I delivered my 2nd baby last year. That testing pregnancy where I had to fight for health and life and struggle with gestational diabetes and then fight for a VBAC.
There was so much prayer. Prayer for the C-section scar to hold and it did. Prayer for the baby’s blood sugar to be good and it was.
And when the pain grew strong as they turned the syntocin up, 9 days overdue being induced, Stephen prayed out loud in the room and it stopped and became pressure till that baby finally ripped right out of me. A supernatural childbirth.
Then after I lost too much blood and got an infection in surgery fixing the tear, my body went into shock and heartrate tripled, there was prayer again. He prayed out loud as the nurses and doctors rushed about in response to the code blue, establishing the IV antibiotics. And it all stopped and everything came normal.
And when the jaundice came and she didn’t respond to treatment, then suddenly the levels dropped to normal and we got sent home. Prayer.
Prayer saved my life 3 times.
And it has been a journey since, because our health hasn’t been quite right. Baby and I, we’ve had digestive issues, and I wondered why God couldn’t just fix it right up?
He’s led us on a health journey, and it’s ongoing. We’re exploring the GAPS diet, to fix our guts and prevent long term problems. And it’s not easy being grain and dairy free, and I never thought I would be; really liked cheese on my pizza too much.
Prayer is a mystery, I’ve seen it work, and other times I’ve wondered why it’s not being answered, but we’re commanded to pray.
In a dream I had the other night, a man in a hospital, wife dying after having baby, said right to me, “this just proves there is no God”
And I said to the man, “This time last year, I was in the same place as your wife, and this just proves there is a God. The world goes round on its axis, till someone bothers to pray and God looks down and intervenes.”
Sometimes God does it all at once and sometimes He leads us step by step down the path, guiding us to resources to fix our health using what He’s put here in on this good earth.
Like that time my husband went up at prayer for church because of an ulcer between his toes and God quietly whispered, ‘you have everything in your cupboard at home to fix this, start taking it.’ And we looked into nutrition and supplements and it healed.
And recently my sister’s hair falling out by the handful because of her chronic gut issues, and God led her to an article about onions, and her hair stopped falling out.
He does care, it just looks different at different times, and he uses different methods to heal, which Chrissie Chapman of The Night the Angels Came explores. This book is full of God’s intervention both in healing and in provision during the Civil War in Burundi. God provided for the orphans He brought to Chrissie’s care, and the beautiful thing is that many of these children grew into adult’s under her care and He’s still providing for their education so that they can change their country.