""O Lord my God, I cried unto thee, and thou hast healed me," sang the Psalmist (Ps. 30:2). Such a joyful experience was mine nearly forty-one years ago, and my heart has never ceased singing His praises for that answered prayer.
Throughout my school days and the ten years of teaching school that followed I was subject to colds and troubles such as catarrh, tonsillitis, ulcerated throat, and bronchitis. Although I tried many advertised curatives for colds, I grew worse instead of better, until at the age of thirty I suffered a physical breakdown. A consultation with a specialist in a midwestern city brought forth the verdict that a poison had entered my system to such an extent that not one organ of my body was functioning correctly and that my days were numbered.
That night in the lonely silence of my hotel room I faced my Gethsemane. I tried to pray, but when I repeated the words, "Thy will be done," my mind suddenly refused to accept the common interpretation of the phrase. How could an all-wise, all-loving Father, I reasoned, "will" sickness, disease, and death on His children, created in His own image and likeness? And if He does so, why then did He send His own beloved Son to heal all manner of disease and overcome death?
