“You too?” I ask the guy with the crutches. He looks at me swiftly and nods. “I broke it this Saturday on the beach,” he says to me and looks down again.
Monday morning on my way to breakfast. I stomp the floor, swing my arms in anger and yell: “I rebuke all these injuries in the name of Jesus! I say no more. Enough is enough.”
The last couple of days I’ve seen an increase of people on campus with crutches and I can feel it makes me furious.
Why would you give up on everything, leave your home to tell the world the Gospel, just to end up with crutches three weeks before departure?
An hour later, after Monday morning worship, it is announced from the stage that we should stay 5 minutes more to listen to a testimony. I turn around to see who will go up on stage. The guy walks past me.
… With the crutches on his shoulders.
He walks up the stairs and grabs the microphone. He is trembling and he stutters: “I’m freaking out right now.”
While we worshipped some of his friends had gathered around him and had started to pray. All of a sudden he was able to move his toes. Then he could stand. Finally he could walk without any pain. The injury had been rebuked.