The Fall of a Fire-Medic

Editor's note: This message was posted previously. It's being re-posted as the first of a four-part series on my first encounter with Jesus.

"Arrogance is believing you’re more important than others. Pride is believing you’re more important than God." ~ Michael Sawh

November 1981

The Greyhound bus pulled into the station in downtown Minneapolis. I needed to stretch my legs so I grabbed my bag and waited for the bus to come to a stop. I took my place in line behind an elderly man and waited for the door to open. The old man stepped down. As his feet hit the blacktop, he lost his balance and veered into a concrete pillar, striking his head. I instinctively grabbed him by the jacket and lowered him to the ground. The laceration on his forehead began to ooze a little blood.

I asked if he had neck or back pain. He didn’t. It was a minor impact, so I didn’t need to worry about immobilizing him. I asked if he was hurt anywhere else. He said he felt fine, except for the wound to his head.  I helped him stand up and walked him into the terminal. We looked for an empty seat. A security guard spotted us. A few minutes later the paramedics arrived.

They dropped their gear and began assessing the old man. I was just a few weeks away from becoming and EMT, so I watched intently. They urged him to go with them to the hospital, but he didn’t feel like going. He was on his way to Fargo, North Dakota to meet his grandkids. The medics insisted that he go. He insisted he would be fine. They argued back and forth and it turned ugly. The medics used every kind of coercion they could think of to get him to go, but he refused.

I was shocked that they seemed so indifferent to his situation. They didn’t care about the fact that he was in a strange town with no friends or family. It seemed like the only thing they cared about was their own liability. What would happen if, in a few hours, something happened to him?  They might be liable. Their fears about liability were more important than the man’s right to do what he wanted.

I told them I was an EMT and offered to sit next to him for the remainder of the trip. If anything happened, I’d let the bus driver know and he could radio for help. Reluctantly, the medics let him sign the release form. They hopped in their ambulance and departed.

“What arrogant bastards”, I thought. I swore to myself that night that I would never become a proud, arrogant fire - medic.

Fast forward to April of 2000

I was working as a paramedic for the fire department of the city where I lived. I tested highest out of all the applicants. I had already done my stint as a flight paramedic. I was in the prime of my career. I’d finally made it to the top.

A big part of the job of a medic is critical decision-making. In the system I worked in, we didn’t transport all the patients we saw. We triaged them and transported the most serious. The less serious ones went with a private ambulance staffed by EMT’s or they went by car. Some patients were left at home, if the condition didn’t warrant treatment. The question we dealt with on every call was – do they require a paramedic intervention in the next 30 minutes or not? If the answer was ‘no’, we usually sent them by private ambulance or by car.

I’d been having problems with my partner for a couple of years. Sometimes we disagreed about who should go with us. He thought I was making bad decisions. I thought my decisions were fine. Well, actually – deep down inside, I knew he was right. I was making some bad decisions. But I’d become so proud and arrogant that I couldn’t admit I was wrong.  I’d become the arrogant fire-medic that I swore I'd never become.

It was pride and arrogance and a deep sense of worthlessness that brought me to despise what I had become a year earlier. It was brokenness that led me to embrace Jesus as my savior on May 25th, 2000.  In the year since my conversion, I’d begun seeing things differently, though I still struggled with pride at times.

My partner Jim took on the role of preceptor for paramedic students. One day we responded on a call with a student, who was doing his first ride. We saw a man in his fifties who had been having chest pain for two hours. Jim and the medic student interviewed the patient. I talked with his wife and got his list of medications. After a few minutes we met and discussed the plan.

Our patient had been seen in the Emergency Department five hours earlier for the exact same symptoms. Same length of time. Same everything. They did the usual tests and found nothing suggesting a cardiac event. They gave him a GI cocktail and his symptoms resolved. They wrote it off as indigestion and sent him home.

When Jim called the hospital, he spoke with the doctor who saw our patient five hours earlier. He remembered the case. He had the man’s EKG and labs in front of him. Jim thought he was stable enough to go by car to his private doctor. The doctor agreed. I was shocked that they didn’t want us to transport him. I understood their reasoning, but with a paramedic student onboard, I thought we were setting a bad example and my gut told me this was a bad decision. I argued that we should transport him. Jim argued back. I gave him all the seasons I could think of for transporting him. Jim said, “Look buddy. I already called base station and the doc agreed. We’re not transporting him.”

We had the man sign a release form and we left the scene. I couldn’t shake the feeling that something bad was about to happen. We went to the bagel shop for breakfast. Before we could order we got a call for a cardiac arrest in the parking lot at a doctor’s office.  My heart sank. Somehow, I knew it was him.

The engine company was already on scene when we arrived. The parking lot was a mess. The staff from the clinic had dragged out all their junk into the parking lot and had it strewn all over the place. We dropped our gear and went to work. Jim let the student call the shots. He was nervous as hell. He recognized the man we were doing CPR on. We’d just seen him 20 minutes earlier.

My role in the resuscitation was to hand drugs to Jim and chart the times they were given. Each time I handed him an amp of epinephrine or atropine I said, “Jim – it’s him”, trying to let him know it was the guy we’d just seen. But somehow, Jim never recognized him.

The story we got from the engine company was that his wife was driving him to the clinic when he became unresponsive. In a panic, she drove the rest of the way and alerted the clinic when she got there.

I noticed his wife pacing back and forth on the sidewalk. I walked near where she was and made eye contact trying to convey with a look, my sadness. We intubated, pushed the usual drugs and did CPR, but never got a pulse back. After 20 minutes, we called the hospital and got permission to stop the resuscitation. The engine company gathered their gear and split. The nurses from the clinic moved their stuff inside. We called the medical examiner and gave them the info and began cleaning up our mess.

It was times like this when I thought about quitting medicine. My thoughts took on more sobriety than they had in years.

“We killed our patient. If he’d been in our unit when he had his cardiac arrest, we could have shocked him and he’d probably still be alive. Our own stupidity caused his death. And we did it with a friggin’ paramedic student onboard. Great. Some heroes we are.”

I felt absolutely worthless.

In the back of the rig, I talked with Jim. Once again I simply said, “It’s him”.
Jim had heard enough. He raised his voice and snapped back, “Hey buddy…What the hell are you talking about?”

I replied, “Do you remember the guy with chest pain that we left at home this morning? That dead guy in the parking lot is him.”

He was speechless. The gravity of the situation began to grow heavier. He looked out the back window. I quietly said, “You see that lady crying next to the body….that’s his wife.”

We got our gear put away and returned to the station. Jim stormed around the medic office the rest of the day, being pissed off at himself. I suffered the rest of the shift in silent regret. The paramedic student would go through a de-briefing with the Captain.

Pride goes before a fall. And sometimes the impact proves fatal.

Reply To 'The Helicopter Dream'

I received a private message today from Sara - the woman who had the helicopter dream. After reading my message, she  wanted to share a little more about the dream and her thoughts on how God set things up. The original story can be found here.  

"Sorry about the slow response, I really wanted to write how this had all gone down, I'm glad you shared it......I'm currently on a Facebook fast but when I saw this in my email I had to check it out. I could tell you held back a little, just unsure of what to share or not, so if you want, here's the full version from my perspective.

A few months back I had a dream. I awoke in my house to find small flames everywhere. The walls, floor, etc and I was alarmed at first thinking my house is on FIRE! I quickly realized these flames were contained and not spreading. I looked out my window to see them outside too, so I went into my front yard (which as I say write these realize could represent my future? Front yard/ future? duh)

I could see these little flames all over my property and all the way to town. (we live 14 miles out of town in western Nebraska) I feel the urge to get to town as a rescue helicopter flies into the scene. I literally hear that it's carrying a message that's really important that I need to remember. It hovers and I see LAM 10:15 on the side of the chopper. I assume that is the message and focus intently on what that could mean for weeks. The chopper flies off and all the sudden I'm back in my house.

I see a mirror in the living room, full length and I'm hesitant to walk to it. I do anyway and see a reflection of a young girl. Pre-teen years who is crying and upset. She keeps crying and talking but I can't understand what she's saying. She starts to transform physically. I compare it to a meth-makover advertisement you see on the billboards but instead of going from good to worse, the reflection gets better and better.

Physically the girl is transforming but as she's changing and the tears are leaving and the sadness and grief are too. There is a healing taking place on the inside so profound it's affecting her physical appearance on the outside. I never do understand a word the reflection says, but as she's changed a normalcy returns to her image and she's at peace.....Then I wake up.

My obvious reaction was the message that I was suppose to remember whatever the helicopter was bringing. Upon my daily Facebook check I scroll across a picture of the medic chopper on PM's sight and realize THAT"S THE CHOPPER from my dream! I focused on the LAM 10:15 for weeks thinking it was a bible verse or some coded answer to something the Holy Spirit is trying to speak to me. I prayed, I sought interpretation, all to little prevail......Until one day I see Praying Medic has a post about his life story he's writing about and I'll be completely transparent and honest, the title was intriguing. (Sorry PM, it was.)

I start reading about his affair. His emotions, his turmoil, his raw desires, his regret, his pain, his torture somehow spoke to a side of me I didn't know needed spoke to. I related to his daughter who he was close to and then had her world ripped out from under her feet.

A mere week or two before I found out what my dad had done I remembered thinking how great he was, how lucky I was, how I wanted to find a guy just like him someday......Then in a blink, that pedestal you put them on is incinerated and your life flipped upside down. Somehow I could never see things from his perspective. I thought to be able to do something like that he must not of loved us at all. I thought all the times he was good, must have been a lie. All the times he pretended to care, fake. Because you certainly couldn't run your family through a shredder like he had if you cared at all.......That's what I thought.

Then warp speed 18 years and I'm reading a post from a person who's done almost the same thing. But I hear his heart. Through adult lenses I realize what he did was just for himself. Not an intentional attack to crush his children and wife. I empathized with his pain, and saw his heart. He did what he did to fill something void inside him. It's really that simple. It didn't mean he didn't regret it, it didn't mean he didn't love his kids enough, it just meant he made a mistake.

As I'm reading the post I'm balling like a baby. Reliving my event realizing sometimes we get caught in the crossfire of other people's mistakes, but those mistakes aren't about us. That arrow wasn't intended for us, it just happen to hit where it hurts. Forgiveness allows us to release OURSELVES from other people's mistakes.

Sitting at a computer on Facebook I realized the message the Medic helicopter would bring was one I wouldn't even know I was looking for. One of forgiveness and a realization that we have a Father, a good and perfect one. He never lets us down, He makes no mistakes, He's safe to put on a pedestal. He comes with a message of perfect love and wants us all to experience that. When we can set our gaze onto that, somehow the actions and mistakes of the ones around us seem a little less important, seem a little more forgivable, and that's His grace. It frees the person who made a mistake or maybe just the one caught in the crossfire. It frees us all. Amazed, humbled, and awed at the Holy Spirit's intricate set of events, seemingly random and unconnected, that heal and transform in a way only a perfect Father can.

My deepest thanks to you and your family PM. For putting your self on the chopping block and having the courage to face whatever came. There is healing that can only come from honestly and forgiveness. I found mine and it is my sincere prayer you all have found yours. I guess He really can turn a mess into a message can't He?

I realized there were parts of the dream I had condensed out of my email and wanted you to have the full version I've been intending on sending. you don't have to change anything you wrote. It's great. I just wanted you to know the full version of what had taken place. Feel free to share as you like or keep.....Thanks again for sharing God Bless."

The Helicopter Dream

Over the last two months I've shared a number of stories about my past. The reasons for sharing these stories are many. One reason is that I needed to be healed of the fear of what people would think if they ever found out about my past. With the help of some very supportive friends, I finally dragged the skeletons out my closet and dealt with the fear and insecurity once and for all. Instead of the rejection I expected – I found people drawing even closer to me. It’s been a very liberating experience.

I suspected that if I opened up about my past, others would too, but I didn't anticipate the degree to which it would happen. After I began writing about my past, dozens of friends began discussing theirs and many are in the process of being healed. Some even started support groups to help deal with their past.

But one story in particular touched me more than any other. It involved a dream from God that was given to a young woman I didn't know.

In the dream, she saw a rescue helicopter hovering above her town. She knew that the helicopter came to deliver an important message, but she didn't know what it was. In the dream, she heard conversations with a grieving girl who was healed emotionally and as the transformation on the inside occurred, she was changed on the outside.

She began looking for the helicopter image and when she got to my Facebook page, realized it was the same one from her dream. She sent me a private message sharing the dream and asked if I could interpret it. I didn't have a good interpretation, but we kept in touch over the next few weeks.

About a month after her dream, I began writing about my affair and divorce. When I wrote that I felt like I’d been emotionally abandoned by my wife and that I knew that my actions had destroyed the trust of my daughter, she sent me another private message:

"Wow read your post today. My dad did something similar when I was your daughters age. I remember the shock of it,up until that day I always wanted to marry a man just like my dad. What your post made me think was, wow he had a side of the story too. He was probably tormented too. He probably felt terrible too. I read your post and just felt respect for your courage to expose yourself. I felt mercy towards you, felt like you deserved grace. And your a stranger. Shouldn't those things be extended first to a loved one? Like my own father?.............how in the world did it take 18 years to realize his decision wasn't personal it was his own mistake not intentionally to hurt those he loved, just an attempt to find something HE was missing. The truth shall set you free, interesting that truth is a person too. Liberating to realize sometimes we need set free from other peoples bad decisions because it was never about us anyway. Thank you

During her parents’ divorce, all she could see was her father’s selfishness. She couldn't see his pain or loneliness. She had no empathy for him and never considered his side of the story – until she read my story. But she realized that she needed to forgive her father and let the mistakes of the past be buried.

God has used my story to touch the hearts of a lot of people in ways I never imagined. That doesn't make my mistakes right. I did some terrible things that can never be justified. But when we're willing to talk about our mistakes in a desire to be healed of the shame, guilt and anger they can bring - there is healing for ourselves and others.

I would encourage you to share your life with others – the victories and the mistakes. You never know how your testimony might help someone who is struggling with the same problem. God can bring healing and restoration in the strangest ways.

Wait a minute...did you call Him Papa?

"So what part of Ohio are you from?"

As she looked at me in dumbfounded silence, I noticed the long, jagged incision on the side of her neck that had been closed with staples. I thought, "That’s gonna leave one hell of a scar."

Tina sat with her legs crossed on the gurney staring at me, trying to figure out how I knew where she was from.

"I’m from Canton….but how did you know I was from Ohio?"

 My partner let the cat out of the bag. "He looked at the hospital face sheet".

He was right. The face sheet doesn't just tell us when you’re born, but what state you were born in. It wasn't a word of knowledge. But it was a good ice-breaker. It made her think that someone cared about her to figure out where she was born before they talked to her. We talked a little about Canton and the fact that she’d never visited the NFL hall of fame. As we wheeled her to the elevator, my partner asked about the gash on her neck. She was more than willing to share the gory details.

She wasn't proud of it. She explained her suicide attempt matter-of-factly. It didn't seem as though she wanted sympathy. She ran out of money. She had no friends. She had no food. And she saw no hope for tomorrow being any better. So she decided to end her life.

"I’m not very good at anatomy, so I screwed it up. I know you need to cut your wrist the long way, but I didn't hit anything. I took a scissors and cut open the skin over that big artery in my neck…I forget what it’s called."

"The carotid", I said.

"Yeah, that one. Well, I went for it, but I couldn't find it. So there I was, in the bathtub, bleeding. And after a while, I knew I screwed it up and I wasn't gonna die. So I called 911."

"I’ll bet the paramedics were freaked out when they got a look at your neck", my partner said.

I've seen a lot of suicide attempts, but the way she opened up her neck was the worst attempt I can remember. The incision was about 5 inches long and  was crudely stapled back together. I could see something poking out sideways that looked like a piece of bone trapped under the skin.

On the way to the ambulance, she continued her story. There was no one who cared about her. Like me, she was the black sheep of a large family. Her 8 brothers and sisters thought she was a lost cause. She never lived up to their expectations. There was no one she could ask for help.

Except her landlord.

She was welcomed by her landlord when she moved to her apartment. He had a close-knit family and they treated her with respect. When she woke up in the hospital, she realized that her cats were left alone in her apartment. It was a bloody mess and there was no one around to take care of the cats. Worse yet, was the fear that her landlord would kick her out of her apartment when he discovered what she’d done.

Much to her surprise, when she spoke with him, he only wanted to know that she was safe and asked what he could do to make it easier for her to come back home.

"Come back home? I thought he was going to make me leave. But he was so kind and understanding," she said as tears filled her eyes.

"You’re part of his family, you know. He’s adopting you into his clan."

I've met people like her landlord. They’re the sweetest people on earth. They love to nurture the wounded back to health. They encourage and support people in trouble. And God had strategically place him in her life at the right time, to give her hope.

I told her that I had recently begun to share some of the uglier parts of my past with my friends. Things that haunted me for years. I told her about this blog and what’s been happening on Facebook. And about the dreams of healing. She was interested.

"You know, I used to be an atheist," I said.

"I am an atheist", she replied.

I told her I wasn't surprised. I told her how I met God and how He appeared to me in a dream and told me He wanted me to pray for my patients and He would heal them. I shared some testimonies and told her my Papa was such a good Father.

"Wait a minute…did you call him ‘Papa’?"

"Yeah. That’s what He told me to do. He said I should call Him Papa or Daddy."

"Years ago, when I believed in God, I used to call Him Papa. I never met anyone else who called him that," she said.

I told her that God was nothing like the cruel, hateful God that a lot of people talk about. He’s loving, warm, friendly, compassionate and full of goodness. He’s better than the best dad you could ever imagine.

She began to weep uncontrollably. It was obvious that the words I spoke about God were the things she hoped were true, if there really was a God. She needed a God who would love and accept her just the way she was. When you suffer rejection over and over, the last thing you want to hear is that God thinks you're a colossal failure.

She asked if it was okay for her to sit sideways on the gurney. She had degenerative joint disease in her back and neck which made it hard for her to turn her head. I told her she could sit however she wanted.

"You know…if you want to get rid of that degenerative joint disease, I can pray for you and God will heal it."

"I’d like that", she said.

I placed my hand on her neck and commanded pain, inflammation and evil spirits to leave. I asked Papa to touch her and let her know that He's real. I asked what she felt.

"I feel really cold where your hands are."

"That’s God healing you," I said. "Here, feel my hands. They aren't cold, they’re warm. So it can’t be me."

She felt my hands and smiled when she felt their warmth and knew it couldn't have come from me.

"Can He heal this?" she said, pointing to her neck.

"He might. All I can do is pray."

I placed my hand over the incision on her neck and asked Papa to touch her again. I asked Him to remove her painful memories, her feelings of rejection, and to heal the skin and make it brand new. Her eyes looked intently into mine. I normally close my eyes when I pray with a patient, but this time I kept them open. She was staring into my eyes. I could sense her desperation. She wanted to know if this paramedic really believed what he was saying, or if he was just another religious nut. I kept my eyes focused on hers and continued speaking life to her.

We talked about many other things on the way. She devoured every word I said about ‘Papa’and cried a lot more. But they were tears of joy. We took her out of the ambulance when we arrived at the mental health unit. There was a line of people at the registration desk, so she waited outside with my partner and I went inside to get her registered. I  wrote my report while I waited in line then got her checked in. I went outside when the charge nurse arrived to walk her to the treatment area.

She hopped off the gurney and gave my partner and I both a hug then  turned and disappeared inside with the nurse.

My partner looked at me. "If we have to get held over past the end of shift - I don’t mind transporting people like her."

I couldn't have agreed more.

The Mistress

The year that I lived in Tacoma was a season where I seldom thought about God. Even worse than my indifference to God was the obsession I had with my own needs.

I had no idea why it was so, but during this season, my life was dominated by a need for sexual fulfillment. When it came to sex, I was like a man dying of thirst. I think I know what David may have felt like when he went after Bathsheba and had her husband murdered.

I would later learn from the book, His Needs – Her Needs by Willard Harley, that most men have a strong emotional need for sex throughout their life. It’s just something we’re born with. Unfortunately – this need is not something we can turn off or wish away. Men become aware of this need early in life, but usually, their wives dismiss it as their husbands just being ‘horny’. The danger of dismissing this emotional need is that men will find a way to have it met – one way or another. If their sexual needs are not fulfilled in their marriage, men will often seek fulfillment outside of marriage. That’s how strong its pull on us can be. Women – please hear me on this point. If you want to affair-proof your marriage, take your husband’s need for sex just as seriously as any need you have. Keep him happy and he’ll keep you happy.

The bitter irony of my decision to move in with my new girlfriend would taunt me almost immediately. My wife made a call to my manager and told him about our affair. I was called into his office and we had a very uncomfortable chat. My girlfriend and I were put on opposite shifts. We would have only one out of three days off together. She was placed on a unit that got brutalized for 24 hours, running non-stop calls in the sleaziest part of town. When she came home, on our one day off together; she usually slept the whole day. The time I expected to spend with her seemed like a mirage that disappeared the nearer I came to it.

She lured me into her life with good looks and charm, but after we moved in, I began to see the real person she was more clearly. She and her teen-age daughter fought constantly. It was like living in a house with two teenagers who were at each other’s throats constantly. She was also a compulsive liar and that created a lot of mistrust.

She allowed me to keep track of our finances and pay the bills. We pooled our paychecks and things went pretty well for a while, until the day she decided to keep part of her paycheck for some personal things that she wanted to buy. It was the beginning of the end, financially, as she began withholding part of each paycheck. A few months later we were behind on the bills with no way to catch up. As bad as my marriage had been, this wasn't any better. I was now the live-in babysitter for a deceptive, short-tempered and financially irresponsible woman.

It’s amazing the level of stupidity a man will lower himself to when following his desires. The enemy will promise you everything you want, but he never delivers on his promises. What you get is nothing like what you envision at the start. The emptiness of it all will shock you.

I always knew that a woman who cheated with you, will eventually cheat on you. I knew it in my brain, but the one time I really needed this piece of wisdom, it wasn't anywhere to be found. Well, it was around, but I wasn't using it. Knowledge and wisdom aren't the same thing. Wisdom is knowledge applied. I had the knowledge about women who cheat, but I chose not to apply it in this situation. Many times we suffer not because we lack knowledge, but because we fail to apply the knowledge we have.

My girlfriend soon found a firefighter who was better suited to give her the things she wanted. It wasn't hard to see what was going on. She began receiving text messages that I wasn't allowed to see. She withdrew emotionally and started meeting him on the nights I was working. It was around this time that my twins suggested I should move out of Tacoma so they could come back to Washington to live with me. It took me about three seconds to start working on a plan.

I gave notice to my landlord that I was moving out and began looking for an apartment. I found one next door to the High School my kids wanted to attend. After a year of living with the pigs, the prodigal was ready to come home.

Guilty

I was hired by a private ambulance service in Tacoma when I moved to Washington in 1994. The short time that I worked there left a bitter taste in my mouth. I despised the drunks, drug addicts and mentally ill people that we transported every day. In 1995 I would go to work for the fire department, but I would return to Tacoma 7 years later. God told me He had a different plan, though it would be four more years before I understood what it was.

The alienation between my wife and I grew worse every day. After losing my job with the fire department, and returning to Tacoma, she saw me as a failure. When we spoke it was out of mistrust or bitterness. We could barely tolerate being in the same house.

Our spending habits had not changed since the bankruptcy. We still took too many vacations we could not afford at her insistence. To pay for them, I worked as much overtime as possible – usually 80 to 90 hours a week. Part of my drive to work so many hours was financial but part of it was avoidance behavior. Deep inside, I didn't want to be around her any more than I had to. The pain of hearing her accusations was growing unbearable. I thrive on companionship, acceptance and cooperation from others and the lack of it in our marriage was slowly killing me.

I had a co-worker who was younger, attractive and interested in hearing about my problems at home. Foolishly, I began to confide in her. She listened intently and always took my side. I felt like I'd finally found someone who understood and accepted me. I continued sharing the drama at home with her and we became very close.

One day, out of the blue, she made her move. Sensing that I was ready to give up on trying to save my marriage and that I would welcome her advances, she began taking my clothes off. I did nothing to stop her. Though I knew what she was about to do was wrong, I so badly wanted to feel loved by someone, I put up no resistance. Although part of me was enthralled to have some kind of intimacy again, my conscience burned with guilt night and day.

If you've never been involved in an extra-marital affair, let me assure you -- the feelings of fear, guilt and worthlessness are just as strong as the feelings of freedom, fulfillment and exhilaration.  I was elated to be at work and near my new lover, but I absolutely hated being at home. The roller-coaster of emotions turned my days and nights into a living hell.

One day, my wife found out that I was having an affair. We were at school, picking up our kids. She was understandably furious and tried to punch me in the face. The commotion was noticed by others, who called 911 for help. Assuming that I was the aggressor, the police arrested me for domestic violence. A no-contact order was imposed that prevented me from speaking to her or contacting her in any way for the next three years. The no-contact order effectively ended our marriage. She hired an attorney and began the divorce process, beginning with a legal separation. The divorce would be finalized two years later.

I was forced to move out of our house so I rented a house closer to where I worked. My new girlfriend lived with me for a year. During that time, my wife didn't make the house payments, so the house went into foreclosure. It was sold it before it was seized by the bank and my wife moved out of state with our twins, who were 13 years old.

My daughter was devastated by what she perceived as my betrayal of her trust. Our close friendship had been destroyed. She refused to speak with me, text me or acknowledge my existence for the next 6 months. This is a girl who had never held a grudge against anyone for more than a day. I was heartbroken every time I thought about what I had done to my precious daughter’s trust in me and in God.

For the next year I would not go near a church or read the bible once. Every time I thought about it, the voice of God would call me back. And I didn't want to go back. The prodigal never returns until he comes to the end of himself and I had a long way to go.

After moving in with my girlfriend, we began working opposite shifts. It was strange, but we rarely saw each other from that point on. I took care of her kids while she was on duty and did what I could to keep things running smoothly. It wasn't long before she wanted to hang out with her friends instead of me. The new thing was quickly growing old.

A year after I moved out, my kids returned to Washington and paid me a visit. The said their mom wanted to move back but she needed me to have a place for them to stay, because she didn't have one. I was ecstatic just thinking about getting back together with the kids. This was the news I’d been waiting for.

I gave my landlord notice that I was moving out. My girlfriend had already begun cheating on me with another man, so I told her it was over between us. I rented an apartment next to the High School where the kids would go when they returned.  

The Arraignment

Arraignment:

A criminal proceeding at which the defendant is officially called before a court of competent jurisdiction, informed of the offense charged in the complaint, information, indictment, or other charging document, and asked to enter a plea of guilty, not guilty.

I stepped off the bus and followed the jail guard, who led me and a handful of other guys to a door in the lower level of the courthouse. We waited silently in handcuffs for the loud click, indicating that the door was unlocked. The guard opened the door and motioned us inside. We were led to a holding area, where we waited for our cases to be called.

I called my girlfriend the previous day after being booked at the jail. I told her I needed a ride from the courthouse to my car, which was still at the school. She told me not to worry, she’d be there. But I didn’t know if my wife would be there or if I would have a chance to speak to her. I didn’t know what to say if I did speak to her. I felt humiliated and embarrassed. My affair had been exposed and now I was facing assault charges.

I worried a little about whether my arrest would affect my job. I spent a lot of time wondering what my kids would think. I knew their mom would tell them what happened. When I turned my heart toward another woman, I never thought it would lead to this.

The guard finally called my name. I got up and followed him to a small room with a TV monitor. He explained that the judge would address me through the monitor and I should answer back through microphone next to it. The process went quickly. The judge read the charge against me and asked me to enter a plea. I pled not guilty. He set a date for a hearing where I would appear in court with an attorney if I chose to hire one. He said that I was being released without bail and that if I failed to appear at the hearing, a warrant would be issued for my arrest. He told me that there were documents I needed to take with me, which included the information about the date and location of the hearing.

I was led from the room, my handcuffs were removed and a guard handed me my personal belongings. He told me I could change in the bathroom. I went in and got dressed. Coming out of the bathroom I was approached by a man who introduced himself as my wife’s attorney. He seemed like a pleasant enough fellow, but I was puzzled about why she would hire an attorney and where she got the money to pay for one.

He explained that my wife had been to court that morning and was granted a no-contact order for a period of one year. For the next year, I would not be allowed to communicate with her in any way except through him. He also informed me that she filed for legal separation. Lastly, he said that I had to move out of my house and that I would be allowed a short visit to the house to gather up a few things. I would need to call the sheriff’s office and arrange to have a deputy meet me at the house.

A wiser man might have seen this coming, but I was caught completely off guard.

“I had to move?
Where was I supposed to go?
What about all my stuff?"

My mind began processing everything. I wondered if I knew anyone with a spare bedroom.

I walked to the lobby of the courtroom and was greeted by my girlfriend. She was dressed to kill, wearing a revealing teal top and short skirt. Her attire was no doubt, a move to further enrage my wife who was also there. We walked to the car and I gave her the low down.

She drove me to the school to pick up my car. On the way, I called a friend who was a bachelor. He lived in a 3 bedroom house on the other side of town. I explained what happened. He was very sympathetic and agreed to let me move in with him. It would be a longer commute to work, but at this point I was just grateful to have a roof over my head.

A few days later I called the Sheriff’s office and arranged to pick up my things. I arrived at my house and waited for the deputy. We talked before we went in. He told me I had to make it quick. I would only be allowed to take the things that were absolutely necessary. I had about 10 minutes.

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.

"Ten minutes?
Are you kidding me?"

I was furious, but I didn’t have time to waste. I thought quickly about what I needed to live on for the next few months, knowing I couldn’t come back.

I grabbed my uniforms from the bedroom, my laptop computer which she grumbled about. I told the cop I needed it and she had the desktop computer, so he let me take it. I grabbed an overnight bag and stuffed it full of clothes. I grabbed my boots, sneakers and a rain jacket. I made a few trips to and from the car and thought about going in one more time. But I realized I didn’t really need anything else. I just wanted to get away from her.

I told the deputy I was done, got in my car and drove away.

Arrested

It’s hard to describe the feelings that came over me as the cop placed handcuffs on me and helped me into the back of the police car. A little remorse; a little anger, and a lot of wonder. I never thought I would be the one riding in the back seat of a black and white.

I’ve worked around cops throughout my entire career. There’s a lot of mutual respect between cops, firefighters and paramedics. We have a kind of brotherhood. Incidents like the 9/11 disaster have made us all a little closer.

After I got away from the grip my wife had on my shirt, I ran to my car, started it up and drove away. I wanted to put as much distance between us as possible. She ran after me, but stumbled in the parking lot trying to catch me. She yelled for me to come back.

“Come back?” I thought. “Why the hell should I come back? So you can take another swing at me?”

I sped through the parking lot and as I approached the road, I saw two police cruisers inbound with their emergency lights on. I knew who they were looking for.

I figured it would be best to stop and talk with them rather than make them come after me. I had done nothing wrong after all, except maybe being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I stopped the car, got out and motioned to the first cop that drove by. He stopped, got out and approached me.

“I think you’re probably looking for me”, I said. I glanced back toward where our incident took place and noticed that my wife was talking to a crowd of people, explaining to them what happened.

The cop asked me to step over next to his car and put my hands on the trunk. He patted me down, asked for my ID then asked what happened. I told him that my wife got pissed off and took a swing at me and the only way I could think of to prevent a fight was to get in my car and leave. He asked more questions then opened the rear door of the cruiser and invited me to have a seat. I got as comfortable as I could on the hard fiberglass bench seat.

The surreal nature of what was happening caused me to begin wondering what divine purpose was being worked out in all of this. I decided to place the circumstances at God’s feet, figuring it was just another bizarre turn in the road. I leaned back, smiled and waited for the cop to return with the news I expected, but didn’t really want to hear. He got back in the cruiser, drove me to the other side of the school parking lot and parked.  When a second police cruiser arrived, he asked me to step out.

The other cop asked me to stand at the rear of the police car with my hands on the trunk and my feet spread. I was patted down again.

“We don’t want your kids to see this”, he said. “We moved you here so they wouldn’t have to watch. I need you to turn around so I can put handcuffs on you.”

I smiled as I turned and extended my arms backward to make it easier to get the cuffs on. They informed me that I was under arrest and said I could speak with an attorney before answering any more questions. They helped me into the back of cruiser and drove me to jail.

Most states in the US have laws requiring one person to be arrested if police are called to a possible domestic violence. Years ago the investigating officer could use discretion and decide not to arrest anyone if it seemed like there was no real assault. But now the laws require someone to be charged. She had a better story than I did...and she had witnesses. Men are arrested in 80% of the cases of domestic violence in the US.

At the jail, I was fingerprinted and given a nice-fitting orange jumpsuit to wear. They let me call my girlfriend. I told her where I was and asked her to meet me at the courthouse the next afternoon for my arraignment. They took my phone and dropped it in a plastic bag with the rest of my stuff then led me to my cell.

I layed down on an empty bunk in a dimly lit room full of strangers. I couldn’t believe what was happening. And I was scared, thinking about all the crazy things I’d heard about that happen to people in jail. I had about five minutes to myself before someone asked what I was arrested for. I told them the story and they began to laugh and encourage me. Of the 15 or so guys who were there, about half were in for domestic violence. Misery truly does love company.

Accused

In 1995, after years of working private ambulance for little more than minimum wage, I gave in and tested for a job with the fire department. The decision was mostly financial. I never wanted to be a fire medic. But my wife and I were on the verge of bankruptcy. We’d didn’t manage our finances well. We always spent more than we earned.  Fire departments paid a lot more than private ambulance. But the new job didn't save us. A year after being hired by the fire department we would file for Chapter 7 bankruptcy.

I was hired with two other guys, who would become good friends of mine. I came onboard with high expectations. At the beginning of every shift, we had to count and sign off for the narcotics in the drug safe with the off going crew. I immediately noticed what appeared to be tampering with the vials. After discussing the tampering with one of the other newly hired medics, we brought it to our Captain’s attention. The Captain informed the Chief and an investigation began. I wondered what in the world I gotten myself into.

During the investigation, I saw what appeared to be an attempt to steer the investigation away from certain people. Only the three of us who were newly hired were given a polygraph test. All of us were given a urine test, but it was delayed three times and wasn’t done until a week later. A week is plenty of time for narcotics to be cleared from your body. The police investigation never revealed who was stealing the narcotics.

A year later, one of the paramedic Lieutenants was found lying on the floor in the middle of the night with a needle in his arm in front of the open drug safe. The Lieutenant happened to be a friend of the Chief, who held him up as a model for the rest of the department to follow. His conviction for narcotic diversion became a hornet’s nest.

I was deeply bothered by what I perceived to be a cover-up during the investigation. On several occasions I got in the Chief’s face over it. Being angry is one thing. But only a fool goes toe to toe with the Chief who has the power to hire and fire him. I was angry, indignant and filled with pride. C.S. Lewis said that pride is like a cancer that will rob you even of common sense. If I had any common sense, I never would have confronted the Chief.

In 2001, the Chief had suffered enough of my antagonism. He did a little creative investigative work and accused me of violating medical protocols. I underwent a long investigation that would ultimately lead to my termination.

I had been a Christian for a little more than a year. My wife was not a believer and we argued a lot about my spiritual views and activities. If I wanted to go to church on Sunday with the kinds, she complained that I was being selfish. She resented the time I spent in bible study. Slowly but surely, we were growing more distant.

My wife became concerned about my activities at work. She was friends with my paramedic partner. They talked from time to time about my problems, including some poor decisions I’d made. When the Chief launched his investigation, she demanded to know what I’d done to violate protocol. I brought home the paperwork from the calls in question and explained in detail everything that happened and showed her that my documentation proved that I had done nothing wrong. She wasn’t convinced.

Although there was no evidence of any wrong-doing on my part, my wife sided with the chief. She was convinced I had to be guilty of doing something wrong.

Her sympathy with my chief made it difficult to want to share anything with her. I felt like I was living with the prosecuting attorney in my own trial. For the next three years, her mistrust toward me would grow. During that time, I would come to know what it felt like to be emotionally and physically abandoned by my best friend and lover.

During those years, I tried to focus on my relationship with God. In 2003, I would lose my job with the fire department and be unemployed for a year and a half. Though we were in dire straits financially, my wife refused to consider working. The stress of not knowing where the money would come from each month forced me to rely completely on God for our financial provision.  As my trust in God grew, my trust in my wife quickly eroded.

In hindsight, my professed love for God may have been more of a journey into the depths of religion. Rather than being transformed into a loving and compassionate man, I became a judgmental, bible-thumping zealot. I saw my wife not as my life partner - but as a deceived and wicked person who needed to repent. The fact that I saw her that way legitimized my feelings of disdain toward her. I treated her more as an evangelistic project than a wife. I certainly wasn't displaying the love of God toward her.

The season of unemployment ended when I was hired by a community ambulance service on the coast, 120 miles from where we lived. My shift started at 7am. It was a 2 ½ hour drive. My shifts were four days on duty and four days off. I awoke at 4am, packed up a huge Rubbermaid bin with enough stuff to last me four days and trekked to the beach.

Every morning on the way to work I would see elk standing in the twilight near the side of the road somewhere along the way. The time away from home allowed me to reflect on what God was doing in my life. It was during this time when I bought my first guitar and started learning to play. I took solace in singing songs of praise to the God who had shown me His faithfulness.

But changes would soon come that would cause me to hide from the God who loved me so faithfully.

Bacteria and the Brain

Bacteria & The Brain: The Powerful Behavior-Modifying Effects of The Gut

by Michael McEvoy Originally posted here.

The gut has been called "the second brain". Research reveals that the enteric nervous system (ENS), a branch of the autonomic nervous system that is found in the GI tract, can communicate with, and function independently of the brain. The enteric nervous system of the gut is comprised of about 500 million neurons. The enteric nervous system can "think", "remember" and "learn" on its own accord.

The enteric nervous system lines the mucosa of various organs: esophagus, stomach, small intestine, large intestine, pancreas, gall bladder, and biliary tree.

The ENS is involved in the regulation of several essential digestive functions. Most notably:

• Peristalsis, intestinal motility: bowel muscular contractions
• Digestive enzyme secretion: to break down food particles
• Participates in the regulation of esophageal muscles: moving food to your stomach
• Motility of the gall bladder, releasing bile into the duodenum
• Assists the hormone secretin in releasing pancreatic enzymes
• Exchange of fluids and electrolytes in the gut
• Blood flow through the gastric mucosa
• Also involved in the regulation of the gastic and esophageal sphincters: preventing acid food from entering the throat, and allowing food to pass into the duodenum from the stomach
• Uses more than 30 neurotransmitters, including serotonin, GABA, dopamine, acetylcholine

Many researchers postulate that the enteric neurons have an important role to play in regulating behavior. This is likely due to the fact that the enteric nervous system communicates with the brain via the vagus nerve. It is known that strains of intestinal bacteria have a powerful regulatory effect on the enteric neurons. It is also known that these same bacterial colonies can induce behavior-modifying effects.

In 2011, researchers from the Journal of Neurogastroenterology stated: "As Bifidobacterium longum decreases excitability of enteric neurons, it may signal to the central nervous system by activating vagal pathways at the level of the enteric nervous system."

What this means is that behavior is directly linked to intestinal bacteria and gut function.

Behavior & Leaky Gut

It is now well established that gut permeability, known as "leaky gut" has a direct effect on behavior. Studies such as this have demonstrated the link between intestinal permeability, gut infections and depression.

A key mechanism with how intestinal permeability plays a crucial role in behavioral disorders is most due to the effect that pathogens and bacterial species have on brain and neurotransmitter function. For example, streptococcal infections have shown to cause symptoms of OCD (obsessive compulsive disorder), tics, and Tourette's. Additionally, the immune response that is invoked from strep and other infections, causes tremendous systemic inflammation, including to that of the brain.

The outer casing of gram-negative bacteria, known as lipo-polysaccharides (LPS), have shown in studies to induce massive systemic inflammation, including the release of pro-inflammatory cytokines such as TNF-a in the brain, as well as brain microglial activation.

Because of the essential role of "tight junctions" in the gut lining for protecting the organism from invading antigens, a diminishment of the tight junctions leads to an increased level of permeability, allowing various pathogenic microbes easy access into circulation. This permeability of the gut wall induces high levels of inflammatory activity in the brain, nervous system and in many other locations in the body.

Additionally, leaky gut will also feature imbalanced gut flora, and especially in the presence of pathogens and with an overgrowth of opportunistic organisms. This may involve imbalances in the same gut bacteria that communicate with the brain via the vagus nerve. So behavior and brain function are affected by the gut in more than one way.

The Role Of Intestinal Flora In Modifying Behavior: Gut Microbiome Axis

The intestinal flora makes up roughly 80% of the total immune defenses of the body. The gut is lined with more than 100 trillion micro-organisms, nearly ten times the amount of cells that make up the human body. There are thought to be between 400-1000 different species of bacteria that are normally found in the gut, and there exist intrinsic relationships and complex communication networks among the bacterial species.

Immediately following birth, the act of breastfeeding results in the implantation of essential floral colonies into the infant's gut. Studies have demonstrated that breast feeding significantly reduces the risk of childhood asthma.Breast feeding for more than 12 months has been shown to be protective against the development of rheumatoid arthritis. One study found a correlation between a shorter duration of breast feeding and the development of ADHD in children.

Many recent studies have focused on the role that certain probiotic strains have on regulating behavior. This is fascinating because it shows the relationship between bacteria and the brain. The probiotic strain bifido infantis 35624 has been studied for its role in possibly reducing depression. Additionally, bifido infantis powerfully reduces IBS symptoms.

Lactobacillus reuteri has been studied for its anti-anxiety effects and for its powerful modulation of the immune system, especially the inhibition of TNF-a. 

Additionally, L-reuteri is well established to modify the activity of the neurotransmitter GABA in the central nervous system. The same is true for lactobacillus rhamnosous. 

L-helveticus and B-longum have been studied for effectively reducing stress, anxiety and depression.

There are a plethora of additional studies that demonstrate the role of gut microbes in regulating behavior.

Without a doubt, continual research will emerge that identifies the intricate but profound role that bacterial balance in the gut plays at modifying behavior.

Repair the Gut: Reduce Inflammation, Improve Cognition 

Any serious health-improvement program should address the function of the gut flora and mucosal barrier. This is magnified exponentially if one has chronic gut issues, inflammatory conditions, autoimmune disorders, and behavioral issues.

Because there are so many factors that will impede upon your intestinal flora, maintaining proper digestion, assimilation and intestinal immunity is paramount. All of these factors work together.

It is extremely common that when the gut is severely compromised, the mucsoal barrier is damaged, and the "tight junctions" that normally exist to keep pathogens at bay, are compromised. If this is the case, there will most likely be a greater degree of inflammation that can manifest at places in the body you wouldn't necessarily suspect (such as the brain).

Often accompanying gut flora imbalances are food intolerances of varying degrees. In fact, food allergies and sensitivities may be amplified when one's gut flora is compromised. For some individuals eliminating gluten, dairy and eggs may be essential. For others, low-oxalate diets may be important.

In many instances, it may take years of persistent attention to the gut before long-term results are achieved.

It is the opinion of this author, from firsthand experience, that proper, individualized nutrition is the foundation for restoring the function of the gut mucosal barrier.

Michael McEvoy has a private nutritional consulting practice. He works with clients nationally and internationally. Please contact him to learn more about his nutritional consulting services and programs.

Sources:

http://europepmc.org/abstract/MED/12776000/reload=0;jsessionid=gaKDYzQTJeMIFlasebaS.4

http://journals.lww.com/jcge/Abstract/2005/05003/Nerves,_Reflexes,_and_the_Enteric_Nervous_System_.2.aspx

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/7743145

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15765388

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/21988661

http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1002/1097-0185%2820010101%29262:1%3C79::AID-AR1013%3E3.0.CO;2-K/full

http://journals.lww.com/co-gastroenterology/Abstract/1999/07000/Pathogenesis_of_inflammatory_bowel_disease.3.aspx

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/19235895

http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0165032712001371

http://www.plosone.org/article/info%3Adoi%2F10.1371%2Fjournal.pone.0001308

http://www.sciencedirect.com/science/article/pii/S0091674904020810

http://www.nature.com/ajg/journal/v101/n7/abs/ajg2006294a.html

http://www.ncbi.nlm.nih.gov/pubmed/15765388

British Journal of Nutrition (2011)Michae ̈l Messaoudi1*, Robert Lalonde2, Nicolas Violle1, Herve ́ Javelot3, Didier Desor4, Amine Nejdi1, Jean-Franc ̧ois Bisson1, Catherine Rougeot5, Matthieu Pichelin6, Murielle Cazaubiel6 and Jean-Marc Cazaubiel6: "Assessment of psychotropic-like properties of a probiotic formulation (Lactobacillus helveticus R0052 and Bifidobacterium longum R0175) in rats and human subjects"

http://onlinelibrary.wiley.com/doi/10.1111/j.1365-2982.2011.01796.x/abstract?deniedAccessCustomisedMessage=&userIsAuthenticated=false

Messengers of Power

Rick Joyner Shares a revelation he was given about people God is raising up to walk as Messengers of Power. Maybe you're one of them.

Why Was The Man Born Blind?

My guest blogger today is Richard Murray. 
This is a discussion about the man who was born blind as discussed in John chapter 9. The original message was posted here.

This passage is so twisted by wrath-mongers. They love to cite it for the proposition that God struck this poor man at his birth with blindness so that Jesus would get the glory thirty years later when healed him. This is insane! God gets the glory for healing a man He struck blind to begin with? Thirty years of this man's stumbling in the darkness brings God glory?

We must avoid the trap of becoming too caught up in the exact cause of a current evil situation. Millions of tangential factors could be working in complex combination to sow the harvest of the particular destruction we are considering.

Let me use the metaphor of a large lake. Every thought or action we take is like a rock thrown into this lake of causation. It causes ripples which affect ourselves and others. Now multiply these ripples by the trillion other rocks of thoughts and actions hurled into the lake 24\7 by billions of other people past, present and future.

Also consider how those ripples may work together to cause a single tidal wave of calamity, or the waves may violently crash into each other causing multiple minor chaotic events and buffetings. Only God can know and safely navigate through and around all the interference patterns of sin, sickness and unbelief.

Why anyone wave of affliction crashes at any time on any one person is beyond our ability to know. But we can trust that God knows and always hastens to the highest available good.

Jesus only occasionally cited the source of a sickness or demon-possession, and then only in the most general of terms. Once He cited the sin of the afflicted as a causative factor. Jn. 5:1-14. Another time He stated Satan as the cause. Lu. 13:11-16. Peter was clear that Satan was always involved in every sickness and affliction at some ultimate level: "How God anointed Jesus of Nazareth with the Holy Ghost and with power: who went about doing good, and healing all that were oppressed of the devil; for God was with him." Acts 10:38.

Yet, on still another occasion (Jn. 9:1-7), Jesus stated that the cause of a man born blind's affliction was irrelevant and NOT due to either the sin of the afflicted or his parents. When asked by onlookers whether it was the man's own sin in the womb which caused his blindness, or, alternatively, was it his parents' previous sin which caused the man to be born blind, Jesus, in the original Greek, answered: “NEITHER, nonetheless let the glory of God be revealed” (literal translation of Jn. 9:3; “Grammatically ‘hina phaneroo’ could be construed as an imperative: ‘Let the works of God be displayed in him!’ For such a construction cf. Mk. 5:23; Eph. 5:33; 2 Cor. 2:7; possible Johannine instances are 14:31; 15:25; see C.F.D. Moule, An Idiom Book of NT Greek [Cambridge: Cup 1953] 144-145, with literature there cited, and N. Turner in Moulton’s Grammar of NT Greek 3:95 . . ." World Bible Commentary, Vol. 36, George R. Beasley-Murray, Word Books (1987), p. 151.).

Also consider the Contemporary English Version’s alternate translation of these verses: "As Jesus walked along, he saw a man who had been blind since birth. Jesus’ disciples asked, 'Teacher, why was this man born blind? Was it because he or his parents sinned?' 'No, it wasn’t!' Jesus answered. 'But because of his blindness, you will see God work a miracle for him.'" Jn. 9:1-3.

Another well-respected translation by renowned scholar George Lamsa based on the Peshitta, the ancient Aramaic version which serves as the authorized Bible of the Church of the East, reads as follows: "Jesus said to them, 'Neither did this man sin nor his parents. But that the works of God might be seen in him, I must do the works of Him who sent me....'"John 9:3.

The point is that there are many alternative renderings of this passage which are much more in line with God's character as revealed in Jesus Christ. The other translations which suggest that God cruelly struck the man blind at birth so that His OWN glory would somehow be revealed thirty years later, are simply untenable and dishonoring of the divine nature. If scholars disagree on translation issues, we should always go with the translation which best honors God and more closely resembles the heroic view of God Jesus revealed.

Getting too caught up in the specific cause of the current affliction can cause blame, condemnation and shame to pollute the atmosphere resulting in faith not being released. This is not to say prior sin of the afflicted is never to be broached, but only if the Spirit wills it. The vast majority of healings Jesus ministered never involved specific sin being exposed, but rather focused on the release of God’s glory.

Let us likewise be glory-focused. Rather than looking back on what seeds caused the evil harvest, we must hear God about what seed of faith is needed NOW to sow salvation into the situation. Sometimes that seed will be repentance over some sin by the afflicted, and sometimes it will not. Jas. 5:14-16 seems to put this burden on the afflicted as to whether a particular sin should be confessed as a cause of the current illness.

Our primary focus should always be on the “how” (to release healing) rather than the “why” (is the person afflicted). The healing is always in the “how,” not the “why.” It does not appear Jesus required repentance over sickness-causing sins before He would heal the afflicted. Of course all men need to repent for all sins, whether it be sooner or later. Yet, Jesus never made it a precondition for His healing glory to be released. However, repentance is crucial to keep the same or worse affliction from returning. (Jn. 5:14).