“Lord, please get me up the hill.”
This used to be my prayer every evening on my way home after taking the bus from the Korean university where I taught English. I couldn’t sit down on the bus because if I did, I couldn’t stand up again. I had to stand and cling on for dear life. I knew every swerve and turn the bus would take and prepared myself for it. I prayed the Lord would get me off safely because I knew if somebody knocked me at the wrong moment, I would fall and break something. I had to position myself at the door so I could step down on my bad left leg (it would be another 3 years before I could go down a step on my right leg and 4 years before I could go up a step on my left).
Then I reached the bottom of the short hill between apartment blocks. I carefully positioned myself in the centre of the path, so I could walk straight up (it was impossible to walk diagonally on a hill) and reminded myself this was the last hurdle before I reached my home. As I walked up, I often passed a group of pensioners sitting talking on a bench. They were 20 or 30 years older than me (I was 53), but they would stop their conversation and watch me with compassion in their eyes as I struggled to get one foot in front of the other. With each step I prayed, “Lord, please don’t let me fall. Please don’t let me fall.”
I’ve just given you a snapshot of my life ten years ago (2012). I was bent over to the left and in pain 24/7. It was taking me five minutes to get out of a chair. Life was hell, and I wanted to die.
Everything began to change one night when I was tossing and turning in bed, the constant pain precluding any possibility of sleep. I cried out to God, “Lord, have mercy. Lord, have mercy.” He replied, but not in the way I expected. He said, “It’s not a question of mercy. It’s a question of spiritual warfare.”
To cut a long story short, I realised that after 35 years of being a Christian, I didn’t know what the Bible said about spiritual warfare and healing. I set about correcting that. I read my Bible with new eyes and I prayed.
A few weeks later, I heard about a nutritional company that might be able to help. I had tried supplements before without success, but I felt I should give this a try. Within 5 days of starting Youngevity, I was seeing results. Six months later, I was out of the weeds. I was standing straight, was substantially out of pain, and moving much better (although still not well.)
I stayed in Korea for another 8 years. During that time, my mobility improved further through unconventional treatment from my Korean dentist (Dr SooChang Jung).
In 2020, I returned to the UK. By then I was pain-free and I could walk at a moderate speed using a cane. I was very grateful to be out of pain and to be able to function independently. But I still found myself grumbling. I had so much to be thankful for. I had experienced a miraculous recovery. Yet I was painfully aware that the rest of my life was going to be very limited unless the Lord brought even more healing into my life. But how was he going to do that? Sure, he can heal in an instant. But the path he has chosen for my healing has always been via natural modalities. I thought that if anything was going to help me further, it would have to be something totally off-the-wall that I had never even heard of.
Then on the 1st February, 2022, I received a message on Facebook asking if I had ever tried stem cell therapy.
And the second miraculous recovery of my life was just around the corner.
When I first read the message, I was cautious. Didn’t stem cell therapy involve expensive injections and have serious ethnical problems? But, no, I was told all I had to do was to wear a small patch that looked like a band-aid. The patch would use light frequencies to activate my own stem cells.
Well, that certainly matched my definition of off-the-wall. I was ready to give it a try.
On the first day I wore the patch, my body felt lighter and looser. By day 3, I could run for the first time in 12 years. Within 2 weeks I was working out for the first time in my life.
I’ve now been on the patches about two and a half months. And I can dance (within limits, but I’m getting better all the time). I'm looking forward to seeing what further improvements will come in the next few months.
For most people, the idea of God turning mourning into dancing is a nice metaphor. For me it’s literally true.
Psalm 30:11-12
Thou hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness;
To the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent. O Lord my God, I will give thanks unto thee for ever.