Hey,

We aren't a "healing ministry" at our church. By that I mean we believe in, but don't stress physical healings. But I am part of the elders that frequently lay on hands and pray for healing. That has raised a few thoughts lately. these may be obvious to people from churches that stress this more. If so, thanks for your patience.

I realized that, in the gospels, people rarely got the point of healings/miracles. After the feeding of 5,000 the crowds followed Him. But not to listen. To see more magic. And to try to make Him King, by force. Even individuals healed didn't show any new understanding. We often feel like these people were "saved" but is looks like most often they were simply made well. (This helps explain why Jesus didn't focus on healing more) They simply heard of Him, asked for help, and were healed. They sometimes learned something about faith, but not of sin and salvation. Maybe they were grateful enough to follow Him, and hear the gospel, but more often they ran off. Sometimes He sent them away.

Its like that when we pray for "healing". We are often gulty of "God, get me out of this" prayers more than prayers seeking God's will in what happens in trials. We look for the miracle instead of His purpose when real growth most often comes from go through trials - with Him.

I have also noticed that often the "yes" answerers to our prayers are temporary healing (not always, sometimes its an complete and awesome miracle). Sometimes it seems to be "I will give you time to adjust, but I do have a purpose it this that you can't see"

I don't at all mean to downplay prayer, or God's power. I just am seeing now that our priority, even in healing (or trials), needs to be His purpose and will. His grace is sufficent.

Chris looked out into the street from the porch. Each direction that he looked the heat shimmered. There was shade on the porch but the heat was everywhere. Sweat dripped from the tip of his nose. It ran down the small of his back. He hesitated before he rose slowly to his feet. He dreaded entering the sun, but he knew it was time to go. He stepped off the porch, into the thick heat.
He passed two people as he trudged along. An old man stepped out of his car. He tried to hurry into the store, the only air-conditioned building in town. In this climate the cooler only lowered the temperature below 90, but it still felt like paradise. Before the man got halfway across the street his pace slowed. By the time he reached the store, he was dragging himself. His face glistened with sweat.
The other person out on the street was a young boy. Shirtless and in shorts, every inch of him shone with sweat. He walked slowly to the fountain. He turned the handle and water arced out. It looked clear, the only thing in sight that wasn't blurred by sweat or heat vapors. The boy drank, but only for a second. He swished the sticky, warm water in his mouth but couldn't bear to swallow the foul stuff. He spit it out into the street. It steamed on the pavement.
Chris walked through town and turned left. The narrow path lead uphill. He hesitated again, was it worth the walk? Yes. He started up and tried not to look back at the baking town until he was past halfway gone.
He reached the crest of the hill. His mouth was dusty. The rest of him was soaked through. Sweat dripped from several places on his body. To his left however, was the lake. The beautiful, clear blue lake stood before him.
He removed his clothes and walked slowly into the water, feeling it cool him inch by inch. The water was merely cool near the surface, but the deeper it got, the cooler it got, until it was cold. He walked gradually in until the water reached his chin. His legs were actually beginning to feel chilled. He stood for a long while, until the cold was past relief, nearly uncomfortable. He still felt the heat on his head, his face, but he was savoring that last part. Finally he held his breath and dunked his head under. The water swirled around in his hair, shockingly cold at first, then chilling deeply. Before he got out he took several long drinks of the refreshing melted snow.
Before he left for the town he filled a large bottle. As he walked out of the lake the process was almost repeated in reverse. He grew warmer as he walked away, but the core of him stayed cool. When he got to town, he left the bottle next to the fountain for anyone to drink. It was no longer cold, and wouldn't even be cool for long, but it was still crystal clear. He hoped someone would find it and learn about the lake.