Warts are not pretty. They belong on toads and storybook witches with large noses and green skin. In fact, they’re probably one of the most unsightly offenders on an otherwise healthy human hand or foot. My oldest daughter who shall remain nameless (at least for this article), had a colony of them comfortably thriving on about a quarter of prime left-foot real estate. Those squatters wouldn’t budge for two whole years! Yes, since 2009, my nameless, oldest child bore this problem. Medicines didn’t work. We lagged on going to the doctor. It got to the point recently where we told her we’d probably have to get them burned off, and prompted her to be prepared. But one evening, six weeks ago, God had another plan. After bedtime prayers, Unnamed Child whimpered, “These are so gross and they hurt.” Frankly, I was fed up with these ugly squatters and their assault on my daughter. I was reminded of what Jesus did to the fig tree when he didn’t find any fruit in Mark 11:14. He cursed it. Somehow I was aware that same faith had just risen up for this occasion. I pointed to those nasty buggers and proclaimed, “Just as Jesus cursed the fig tree to no longer bear fruit, I curse these warts, that you would die right now.” Within a week, they began to appear smaller. I was hopeful, as was…Unnamed Child, but we could still see them, their physical attributes still apparent. Week two went by, and we could certainly attest these things were on the move. Last night marks approximately six weeks since that curse went forth, and I’m here to tell you, the left foot of this sweet girl is beautiful, perfect, without a shred of evidence of its vile two-year inhabitants.
We have been the recipients of miraculous healings many times. In fact, when Sophie was just 5 years old, she laid her hand on 2-year-old Serena who had a 105 degree fever. Sophie cursed the fever, and within the hour, Serena was down to normal, with no signs of sickness and remained well. Recently, I began having heat flashes in MY left foot – periodic moments of burning discomfort. I’d read online that it could be signs of neuropathy, and there basically wasn’t any real cure for it. I tolerated them for about a week, where it got to the point that I’d had more than a dozen flare ups within a day. Jim and I agreed in prayer that they would leave — and I haven’t had an incident since that moment.
All this boasting, (and I do mean boasting!) is in Jesus Christ alone. Jesus is THE Healer, and will always be the Healer. No human can perform what Jesus did through us and for us, except that His Spirit lives within us. My dear online friends and family, I write this today to encourage you to stir up your measure of faith in the only one who truly, forever heals. If He can heal broken lives and hearts, how much more can He take care of a cold, a backache, depression, anxiety…warts?!? He can, He does, and He lives so that we can partake of His goodness in tangible ways. Believe on Him today, let Him work through your life to touch another and give God the glory for His goodness!