Ministry Moments:
"Sister, I want you to get up"
by Lynn Ridenhour
Back during the mid to late ‘80s my wife and I
traveled with Wade Hankins, RLDS Seventy & founder of Contemporary
Christian Center (CCC), an alternative style praise & worship movement
that primarily attracted young couples.
My wife and I were not RLDS but loved the Book of Mormon. One day
Brother Wade approached me, "…Lynn, I want you to start traveling with
me…" I said I would, and for about a year, we traveled from one end of
this country to the next, holding weekend CCC rallies. Paul Lucero, Native
American, also an RLDS Seventy, often traveled with Wade and I. The three of
us really began to see God move.
My wife and I were attending Kansas City Vineyard, a national charismatic
movement whose founder was John Wimber, a man who moved in the realm of the
prophetic. Mike Bickle, pastor of KC Vineyard, was our pastor. KC Vineyard was
on the cutting edge of the prophetic movement—which eventually spread
worldwide. I had just introduced Brother Wade to Wimber’s popular book
"Power Evangelism." The gifts of the Spirit were beginning to
operate and manifest themselves in our CCC services.
I never will forget this one service. We were in Dallas, Texas. Roy &
Gina Browne, friends of ours, Marilyn Wood, another friend, and Linda and I
had all made the trip in Roy’s van. We shared stories and sang on the way
down. After thirteen hours of driving (and singing), we pulled into the church
parking lot, and were we pumped, to say the least. We had been fellowshipping
with the Lord and with one another for thirteen hours straight.
We were already primed for the service.
The ladies freshened up while we men unloaded the van. I could already hear
the praise music inside, and was anxious to join in. The parking lot was
buzzing. People were shaking hands, hugging, chatting. It was like old friends
meeting again. Roy and I walked inside the church together. I could still hear
the singing inside the sanctuary. While standing in the foyer, I watched a car
pull up close to the doorway. A man was opening the door for his wife, but
first he reached inside the back seat of the car and pulled out a wheelchair.
Unfolded it and then assisted his wife. I thought it was strange that he
wheeled her inside the foyer, then quickly drove off in his car.
"…Are you Brother Ridenhour?" asked a man as he walked over and
hurriedly introduced himself.
"…I am…"
"...My name is Peter, and my sister in Tulsa said that you prayed for
the sick. Would you terribly mind praying for Sally. She’s such a precious
sister."
We had just had a wonderful meeting in Tulsa. Some very miraculous healings
had occurred.
Roy and I were still standing in the foyer. I could hear the praise
& worship service beginning. I couldn’t say no, so I shook my head.
"Sure, I’d be happy to."
"…Thank you so much…" He walked over about ten feet and
wheeled the lady in the wheel chair right in front of me. "…Brother
Ridenhour, I want you to meet Sally, a good friend of mine."
I reached down and took her hand. "Hi Sally." I must be honest,
we had just driven thirteen hours and I was really looking forward to some
good worship & praise. I wanted to go on inside and join the rest of the
saints.
Roy was standing by my side. I said, "…Roy, let’s go in this
Sunday School room…" Roy wheeled Sally, and Peter and I followed. Sally
began to tell her story. She had not walked in eleven years. Her legs were
paralyzed. And she was in lots of pain.
It was good to have Roy along. Roy was not only my good friend; he was also
my neighbor. Our two daughters were the same age and practically grew up in
one another’s houses. One was always spending the night with the other. But
more importantly, Roy was a charismatic Book of Mormon lover. He believed in
and practiced the power of God. Healings & miracles were no big thing for
Roy. So it was nice to have a kindred spirit in the room. There is indeed
something real in the spirit world about collective faith. Peter was in the
room and I could tell was primarily an observer. Sally too had little faith.
She had received over the years so many administrations, and nothing had
happened, that she had little faith of being healed.
We begin to pray. I knelt in front of Sally’s legs, laid my hands on her
cold flesh, and commanded life to return. At the same time Roy was laying his
hands on her head and praying softly in tongues. I prayed for about five
minutes, and so did Roy--repeatedly commanding strength to return, and for the
paralysis to leave. Then I would ask Sally to get up out of her wheel chair.
We would take her by her hands, try to lift her, and she would say, "…but
I’m scared…" and would not put forth an effort.
So Roy and I would pray some more.
This went on for about an hour. And each time Roy and I asked her to get
up, Sally expressed her fears. Then unexpectedly something came over me. I
could tell, it was God’s presence. Suddenly I had a calm boldness I
previously had not had. I paused for a moment in complete silence, looking
down at the floor with my hand on my chin. I wasn’t praying. Just enjoying
His presence. I was feeling a surge of the Holy Spirit's power going through
me. Calmly I looked Sally in the eye again, this time reached out my hand, and
said in a soft controlling voice, "…Sister, I want you to get up…"
She took my hand, and with Roy supporting her, slowly—after eleven years
of paralysis in her legs—she stood up. You could feel it in the air. The
room was being charged with faith. O, Sally was still unsure of herself. But
the longer she stood, the more her countenance changed. I looked at Peter and
one lonely teardrop was slowly making its way down his left cheek. I could
tell, Sally was experiencing the power of God. Her facial expression was
almost as if she were a part of something she had never seen before. She was
getting stronger. Slowly getting stronger.
All of us in that room were watching a major miracle. This lady had been
paralyzed. For eleven years she had been paralyzed. And when I had put my
hands on her legs about an hour ago, they were cold.
Roy then did something that took us all by surprise. He pulled the
wheelchair out from behind her, wheeled it around and put it in front of her.
She grabbed hold of its handles.
I said to her, "…take a couple steps…"
We all waited with anticipation.
Holding to the handles of her empty wheelchair, Sally took her first step
in eleven years.
"…Praise the Lord!…" Roy and Peter both said it at the same
time. It sounded like an echo in the room.
Sally took another step. And another. Until she had run her wheelchair into
the wall. The room wasn’t very big.
By this time faith had shot sky high in that room.
"…Tell you what…" I said. "Roy will be right behind you
so you won’t fall. Why don’t you push your empty wheel chair inside the
sanctuary where the service is being held?"
"…Lynn, they’re in the middle of worship," said Roy.
"…There’s nothing like a real miracle to break up a service.
Let’s do it."
To everyone’s surprise, Sally led the way. She was getting stronger by
the minute. It’s amazing what God can do. We formed a little parade in the
foyer. Sally pushing her empty wheel chair was in front, Roy was behind her,
then Peter, and I brought up the rear.
You must remember—inside that room were all Sally’s friends, her loyal
brothers & sisters, who loved this lady dearly. There were close to
three hundred saints in that room. And we were about to surprise them big
time.
Peter opened the swinging doors to the sanctuary, and in walked Sally
pushing her wheelchair. Then Roy. Then Peter. Then I walked through the
swinging doors. It got real quiet. One by one the members began to turn their
heads. Someone behind the pulpit was in the middle of making
announcements, but all eyes had shifted to Sally. She was slowly pushing her
wheelchair up the middle aisle. It was quiet, real quiet; you could hear a pin
drop.
Brothers & sisters, on cue, as if the choir director had raised his
hands and had given us the down beat, all of a sudden the whole congregation
explodes into an eruption of cheers, handclapping and yes--even yells.
Yells in the sanctuary. The best way I can describe it is—in that room
that night in Dallas, Texas, it was like the Cowboys had just scored the
winning touch down at the Super Bowl in the last few seconds of the game.
Everyone—I mean everyone--lost their "church" composure and was
rooting, yelling, and handclapping for Sally as she pushed her
wheelchair. Some were standing in their pews.
I’m telling you—there’s something about collective faith.
Sally was now pushing her wheelchair around the room, almost walking at a
normal pace. She went up the middle aisle, turned right, and headed down the
side aisle. Church service was over. Sally was now standing
around in the back talking with her friends, still holding on to her empty
wheel chair. I began to get a little concerned. You know how we are—in the
natural I was thinking that she might be overdoing it. After all, she hadn’t
walked in eleven years. A little over an hour ago her legs had been paralyzed.
And cold.
O, we of little faith.
Well, the best is yet to come. What I was about to witness, I will take to
the grave. It was a moment truly sent straight from heaven. I remember it like
yesterday. It’s probably one of the top ten memories of my life.
Her husband had returned to pick her up. Sally was still standing around,
mingling, visiting with her friends inside the sanctuary. Her husband didn’t
go inside the sanctuary but waited out in the foyer. Just another routine
trip, I’m sure he was thinking. Time to pick up my
handicapped wife.
I was standing next to him when the doors swing open. Into the foyer walks
his wife pushing her wheel chair towards him. My eyes are glued on that man.
He’s slow to react. It’s almost too much. She stops the wheelchair in
front of him, then walks around her wheelchair and puts her arms around her
husband. They embrace (I could tell he was holding her tightly). The foyer was
full of friends, many of them teary-eyed. They knew they were watching a holy
moment.
It was a scene much like a high drama love story we watch on a movie
screen, one of those Oscar-winning moments.
Then the husband walks over, folds up the wheel chair, an act I’m sure he’s
done thousands of times, and escorts his wife to the car. He puts the
wheelchair in the back seat, but this time he does something he’s not done
in a long time. He opens the door for his wife and she sits down.
The two drive away.
