its color returning to normal. Three days later, he walked out of the hospital, discharged and whole.
This is the intensity I carry—prayer that stirs the body, shakes the soul, and ushers in peace. The Bible speaks of this in John 16:33, where Jesus says, “My peace I give you, not as the world gives.” Yet it warns in Jeremiah 6:14 of those who cry “peace, peace” when none exists. True peace, the kind that filled that hospital room, comes only from Him.
her face etched with fear. I prayed with focus, commanding the infection by name to leave his body in Jesus’ name. Suddenly, his body trembled, a deep, uncontrollable shaking. His wife’s arms tightened around him as tears streamed down her cheeks. The shaking persisted, intense and otherworldly, then slowly faded. A profound peace settled over the room, thick and tangible, silencing us all. In awe, we left, our hearts heavy with wonder.
That night, his fever broke. The angry, infected incision began to heal
In a quiet room at LGH, a young husband lay battling a dire infection after back surgery. His fever raged, the wound festered, and hope dwindled. A friend rallied a group of us to his bedside to pray. One by one, we offered prayers for healing, our voices soft but earnest. Then, driven by a nudge, I stepped out to the nurses’ station and asked for the infection’s specific name—Pseudomonas aeruginosa, they said.
Back in the room, I stood by his bed, his wife clinging to him,