Bill Subritzky

I BELIEVE
in
MIRACLES!

as told to Vic Francis

(Former Editor, N.Z. Challenge Weekly)

DOVE MINISTRIES
I Believe in Miracles! Copyright ©1989
by Dove Ministries Limited P.O. Box
48036 Blockhouse Bay, Auckland, New
Zealand.
Original title:
But I Don't Believe in Miracles.
This second edition: May 1994

ISBN 978-0-908950-13-3
 Contents

Foreword................................................................ 5

One But It's Impossible ................................................ 7

Two Complacency Shattered ...................................... 10

Three A Big Black Hole ................................................. 15

Four Cracking Up ......................................................... 24

Five Broken ................................................................. 31

Six My History of Unbelief ...................................... 34

Seven I Believe in Miracles! ........................................... 40

Eight Totally Healed ..................................................... 48

Nine To God Be The Glory ........................................ 54

Ten How to be Born Again ....................................... 59

 5

Foreword

What ideas do we have about the possibility of the

miraculous - in this case miraculous healing? The story is told
by the mother of her crippled son. When Christian friends
saw him soon after his healing miracle, the mother relates,
"Some rejoiced with us, others were sceptical, yet there he
was, running and praising God... some still didn't believe his
healing was from God... others waited for a relapse... we lost
friends... we had to change our church!"
The reader will find a story of an increasing wave of
blessing for the family and many others, and that's worth
reading. A family filled with joy as burdens of years
disappeared.
The story is simple and believable but the questions are:
Who is Bill Subritzky? What does he preach? How does he
pray? This book does not tell. The propagation of the Gos pel
should be confirmed by signs of divine approval. It's all God
working, not man's psychology, skill and power. The content
of the preaching must agree with the fundamental teaching of
the Gospel. Those who have listened to Bill Subritzky know
he expounds the Gospel of Jesus Christ. He is part of the
Spirit-filled community; the church carrying out the com-
mission, "for the equipping of the saints... to the building up
of the body of Christ." Ephesians 4:12, ministering as Jesus
did in the Spirit's power.
We are not told of the insights or reactions of the boy's
doctor or of the many specialists who were involved in his
care. The medical dilemma is, was it all psychological, or did
the treatment finally work, or is the healing a temporary re-
mission, or was it only a self-limiting passing illness? For doc-
tors whose minds are moulded by scientific training and ma-
terialistic thinking, acknowledgment of the supernatural is
unlikely. On one side there is a complacent aloofness from the
annoying rabble of Christians and on the other hand the
prisoner of a church system of beliefs with a rigidity of reli-
gious pious words. For Christian doctors these can separate us
from some of the reality of the sick person's real needs. If
your God is too small, is dead or nowhere to be found, the
challenge deepens or has to be dismissed. This is our choice
and yours.
This book then confronts us not only with a disease now
strangely healed, but with TRUTH; the living God showing
His present power in the medical arena. This account invites
all of us to rebel against the conventional Christian sages who
limit God and our humanistic society which denies God. His
Word says He works in mysterious ways and these ways are
past finding out.

Dr Bruce Conyngham
Medical Doctor
 7

ONE

But It's Impossible

I lay flat on the floor of the businessman's office.
"This can't be happening to me," I kept thinking. Above me
people were moving around, but it was all a bit hazy, somewhat
unreal.
"I don't believe in the power of God," I thought. "I don't believe
in healing. I don't believe in miracles."
Yet I couldn't deny what had happened - what was happening -
to me.
Brian and I had only come here as a last resort. For the last eight
months we had tried unsuccessfully to cope with the disease
crippling our 11-year-old son, Grant.
But nothing worked. The best medical advice in the world
couldn't even tell us what was wrong, let alone how to cure him.
Increasingly potent drugs proved useless, and the pain which racked
Grant's body got worse and worse.
Now he was wheelchair bound, facing a life of misery and
premature death.
It was too much for Brian and me to cope. Physically,
emotionally and spiritually we were completely drained. We had
reached the end of our tether. The incessant day and night
responsibility had come close to destroying our family, our
marriage, our finances and – worst of all – our faith in God.
So we were here in Bill Subritzky's office as a last resort.
Even then, I personally didn't expect, or want, a miracle. In fact,
I wasn't quite sure why I was there.
I was so uncertain and nervous that it was just as well he shut
the door when he ushered us into his office. Otherwise I would
have bolted.
Then things really got out of hand.
Instead of praying for Grant, he wanted to pray for me.
I remember him putting his hand on top of my head and
then… nothing.
It must have been a few minutes later that I came round to
find myself lying flat on the plush carpet in the office.
I didn't know how I got there. All I knew was that I was
enjoying this experience.
Bill prayed for Brian and then, finally, he turned to Grant
saying, "I want you to stand up."
But Grant couldn't stand up. I knew that. The degeneration
in his back was so far advanced that he couldn't even get out of
the wheelchair unaided. But this was to be my day of discovery.
Slowly, surely, Grant got out of the wheelchair.
I was bewildered. It just wasn't possible. And then reality hit
again - suddenly he collapsed to the floor. "Oh, he's fallen again,"
I thought. "That's it."
By then I had stood up and I looked down at my son, pros-
trate on the floor, still crippled. Even this great faith healer
hadn't succeeded.
 But as I looked, I could see something dramatic had
happened. Grant's eyes were shut, but the most beautiful and
peaceful smile covered his face.
It was then that I began to cry….
 10

TWO

Complacency Shattered

Grant grew up like any normal child. He played rugby in

the winter and cricket in the summer, rode his bike, took mu -
sic lessons, and generally had a well-adjusted and positive
outlook on life. Apart from a milk allergy which nearly killed
him as a child, he led a very healthy life.
And I, Diane Parker, was like any normal proud mother.
Why shouldn't I be? Brian and I had three children - Jody,
Grant and Paula. All were well-adjusted, fit and healthy.
In fact, we had a lifestyle which would have been the envy
of many. Brian and I both worked, so money wasn't really a
problem. We lived in Chatswood, a much sought after suburb
of Auckland. And we were both Christians, went to church
regularly and our children showed every indication of
accepting the Christian faith as well.
There was nothing to suggest that our family was soon to
be dragged to the edge of the precipice. We were very, very
comfortable. I realise now, we were also very, very
complacent.
As a child, Grant was very gentle. Even when he was little
he wasn't at all possessive, always being willing to share his toys
and never dreaming of hitting another child.
He was so gentle that I sometimes used to worry about
him. Would he be able to stick up for himself? Would the other
kids take advantage of him? And yet his pleasant nature meant
he had plenty of friends and he was never troubled by school
bullies.
Scholastically he wasn't super-intelligent, being more of a
plodder who always worked hard. But he was liked by his
teachers and with hard work he did rather well at school.
Brian and I were proud of our only son.
But when he was 10, I noticed Grant slowing down. At first
it was only a suspicion, barely noticeable at all. So small, in fact,
that only a mother would pick it up. But it was there all the
same.
Over a period of weeks and months this slowness gradually
became more pronounced. It was as if Grant had lost interest in
life. He was listless and totally lacked the energy to get up and
do things. He wouldn't move about, and stopped doing any of
his old outside activities.
Physically he became very lazy, and this made me more and
more concerned. It was so out of character. He had been an
energetic child. Slowly he was becoming a sloth. Yet there
didn't seem to be anything physically wrong. He never com-
plained of pain or anything else. He just slowed down.
At first we put it down to being a childhood phase and
hoped Grant would grow out of it. That was the logical
answer. Yet as a mother, a gnawing worry had begun deep
down. Somehow I knew that all was not right with my son.
Matters came to a head in August 1983.
 During the school holidays our family went to the
Manawatu for a break. Brian's parents lived in Palmerston
North and my parents were in nearby Feilding. Grant stayed
with Brian's parents and we were with mine. But when we went
to pick him up, Grant threw a tantrum like I had never seen
any of my children perform before. He yelled and screamed at
us, not wanting to come with us. He just went berserk, ranting,
raving and screaming like a lunatic.
In the end we had to drag him forcibly into the car,
eventually calming him down.
The next morning Grant complained of a sore throat and I
said, not too sympathetically, "I'm not surprised, considering
all the screaming you did."
But deep down the alarm bells were ringing louder. Some-
thing was not right. His laziness, the tantrum and now the sore
throat. I was now very concerned.
But we could still explain the matter away. Our whole fam-
ily had influenza that holiday, so none of us felt too bright.
Grant, perhaps, had just an extreme case.
Except, I knew it was more than that.
That morning I was going to the doctor because of my flu,
so I decided to take Grant with me.
As we sat in the waiting room, Grant's sickness became
even more apparent. He vomited all over the room. The doctor
looked at him and immediately sent him to Palmerston North
hospital. The initial verdict was suspected meningitis.
But dozens of tests later, we were told he only had a virus
and the hospital recommended we take him home.
So we cut short our holiday – which none of us minded,
seeing we all felt so sick with the flu ourselves –and returned
to Auckland.
 The rest of the family got better quickly, but Grant's condition
continued to deteriorate.
It soon became obvious that it was worse than influenza. He
had the shakes and a dull ache, centring on his back but spreading
throughout his body. My inner warning bells were positively
jangling by now.
It wasn't too bad at first. The dull ache was always there,
impeding his movement and happiness. But it was bearable.
However, the pain gradually got worse, more intense, and spread
throughout his body. Grant described it as "something holding on
to my backbone and squeezing it really hard." Painkillers worked
for a while, but then the pain would return.
Although his temperature disappeared, the back soon became
an object of constant discomfort and pain. It got worse and worse
and no amount of rest or painkiller seemed to help.
At first I didn't have much sympathy for Grant, and delayed
seeking expert advice in the hope the back would clear up. But one
Sunday afternoon in September I became so tired of hearing about
it that I said abruptly, "I'll take you over today and get it cleared
up."
So off we went to the medical centre in Takapuna.
The doctor on duty, who used to be our family doctor, was
immediately concerned. Grant was dispatched for an
x-ray. There followed a seemingly never-ending round of visiting
doctors. Grant was referred to an orthopaedic surgeon, then passed
on to a neurologist and finally to a rheumatologist. They would
shake their heads, look concerned and come up with no diagnosis.
The disease crippling my son couldn't even be classified.
By now I was scared. Everything was not all right and there
didn't seem any prospect of it coming right. My comfortable,
complacent world was beginning to crack up and I was power-
less to do anything about it.
I had always had the greatest respect for the medical pro-
fession. If there was anything wrong I knew they would help,
find the cure, set us back onto our normal family course again.
At least that's what they had done in the past.
But this was different. All the doctors could do was to pre-
scribe painkillers, make suggestions that Grant needed psy-
chiatric help and send him off to another doctor.
No one could give any hope - and hope was increasingly
becoming my most desperate need.
Within a couple of months I felt 10 years older and posi-
tively ragged round the edges. I was cranky and irritable, con-
fused and worried. I felt at the end of my tether. My happy
home had been shattered. My world was falling apart at the
seams.
 15

T HREE

A Big Black Hole

Winter stretched into spring, and spring stretched into

summer.
But for the Parker family there was no warmth, no joy and
no shedding of the winter blues.
Grant's condition became an all-consuming fire. We
simply didn't have time for anything else.
The early days, when Grant suffered only a dull ache in his
back, we could live with, make concessions and accommodate
Grant and his sickness.
He got worse and worse, even though we tried to kid our-
selves otherwise.
Grant's illness, visible only to those close to him, soon be-
came more obvious. In October we were again in Palmerston
North and Brian's father, seeing him struggle up the path, was
so moved he said, "Just look at that poor kid."
Before long Grant began having agonising spasms which
would make him drop like a stone. Some would last just a few
minutes, others would leave him in a paralytic heap for hours
on end.
 The spasms reminded me of a woman in labour. They would
get him, grip him and hold him. They were like severe, agonising
cramps.
The attacks were unpredictable in their timing and their
severity. Sometimes Grant would be walking – hobbling is
probably a better word to describe his movements – and would
suddenly crash flat on his face. Then he would lie there,
breathing up the dust. Any movement aggravated it. We were
always finding him lying around the floor somewhere. At least
when he was on the floor he couldn't hurt himself.
The spasms, which occurred at any time of the day or night,
made me feel useless. There was absolutely nothing I could do
except be with him as he rode out the pain. I could only let him
know I was there – there wasn't anything else.
I got pretty desperate at times. Many times during the spasms
I would just walk off and have a cry because I felt so useless.
It was like living in a big black hole, with no light coming in
from anywhere. You knew you couldn't give him anything and
this helped contribute to the increasing sense of frustration and
pressure building up within me.
Schooling quickly became almost impossible, though Grant's
teacher, Wes Stevens, was wonderfully understanding and
sympathetic.
He was determined to have Grant at school, rearranging his
classroom for him and making sure he gave him as much
attention as possible – even when it disrupted the rest of the
class.
One day I went to see Mr Stevens to explain why Grant
hadn't been able to come to school. But when I told him one
of the main reasons was that Grant now had to be carried to the
toilet, he responded, "If you can do it at home, I can do it at
school." He was a wonderful man, a real help and inspiration.
But even when Grant got to school, he could only last an
hour or an hour and a half at the most.
On one occasion Mr Stevens and I determined to keep him
at school for a whole day, so we loaded him up with drugs and
sent him off. An hour-and-a-half later the school phoned. Grant
just couldn't cope with sitting.
Several times we got so desperate that we put him into
Princess Mary Hospital, the children's hospital in Auckland. He
was too young to be in the adult rheumatic ward.
It wasn't that they were able to do anything for him, but it
gave us a break when we couldn't take any more – say after a
particularly long spasm.
In the hospital they would do more tests and each time I
hoped they would find something. But it was a vain hope. They
could never come up with any glimmer of light.
Throughout those early stages there was always the thought
in the back of my mind that Grant might just be making up his
whole illness. So one of my hidden reasons for putting him in
hospital was the hope that because he didn't get the attention he
got at home, he might pull himself out of it. That, too, was a vain
hope, and in retrospect I realise such a thought was probably
mere selfishness on my part. But it was a reflection on how I was
at that time.
The hospital staff tried their best, but there was nothing they
could do. When he went through the spasms they tried packing
his back in ice. When that didn't help, they tried hot
towels instead. But nothing they, or we did, seemed to give him
any relief.
The hospital had never seen anything like Grant's illness, and
didn't quite know how to deal with him. This caused a lot of
friction, with one orderly saying callously, "The kid's got a sore
back so what?" Another one scolded Paula one day when she was
crying after seeing Grant. That really made me see red.
The state of Auckland's children's hospital has caused
controversy in the city for many years. Built in the 1940s, it is way
below standard, and after a long fight about money a decision has
been made to build a new one.
And, as far as I am concerned, it will not come too soon. The
conditions there were very bad. I was horrified when Grant came
home from hospital suffering with nits and scabies. We had to lie
him in the bath to try and to get rid of them.
Grant's condition destroyed the family life as we had known it.
I gave up my job to look after him, and this put us under
tremendous financial pressure.
I couldn't go to the supermarket for fear that Grant might
have a spasm. And I couldn't leave him in the car on his own for
the same reason.
I couldn't even have a shower in comfort. I'd wait until he had
just got over a spasm, rip through the shower and hope to be back
before he had another one.
It had a terrible effect on Jody and Paula as well. In fact, in a
sense they had the hardest time of all.
We had a routine whereby we would pick the girls up from
school, go straight to the hospital, and pick up takeaways for
dinner on the way home.
 The damage it was doing the girls really hit me one day when
Grant commented on how appalling hospital meals were, and Jody
responded that she was sure they were better than the ones she was
getting at home.
Brian and I knew we were neglecting the girls. The problem
was how to avoid it. We talked to them after leaving the hospital
one night, asking them to let us know if they felt too neglected. We
told them we were blinded at the moment by the enormity of
coping with Grant, but we still loved them as much as ever.
The words were fine, and we meant them. But how do you
cope with a child who needs 24-hour supervision and attention
without neglecting your other children.
Wanting to do my best for all my children, I had an increas-
ingly desperate knowledge that I couldn't cope with Grant, let
along Jody and Paula. Unless Brian was home I couldn't leave
Grant and do anything with them.
In the circumstances, the girls were marvellous. Jody was 14 and
I can remember her crying on the way home from the hospital and
saying she hadn't realised how much she loved Grant. And Paula
used to get upset in the hospital and walk off saying, "My eyes are
prickling again."
Their lives came to a standstill in a lot of ways. If Grant had
been an only child it would have been a lot easier. We could have
just poured everything into him and not have the added burden of
knowing we were neglecting our other children.
Another problem we faced was the reaction of our friends.
People didn't know how to cope with Grant's problems and so
many just stopped coming round, visiting and phoning. That really
hurt.
 Then there was the unspoken feeling among many that we were
overreacting. They would see us and Grant and wonder what all the
fuss was. Because he wasn't emaciated and terribly sick looking, they
couldn't imagine the hell we were going through.
But by January his sickness was becoming increasingly obvious
for all to see. That was when he was put into a wheelchair.
He had become so immobile that I piggybacked him everywhere.
We would drive up the driveway and then I would lug Grant on my
back up the steep steps to our front door.
One day, though, we went to the doctor and as I piggybacked him
in he said, "Why haven't you put him into a wheelchair?"
And so we went to the extra-mural office of the hospital to get
him a wheelchair. But despite the respite that gave me, I viewed the
chair with mixed emotions. It was almost like an admission of defeat -
we all knew the odds against him ever getting out of it.
The wheelchair temporarily gave Grant the kind of freedom he
had missed for months. He couldn't wheel it himself, but Brian built a
ramp into our back garden and he sat alone outside, breathing in the
atmosphere. He felt free again.
I was amazed at how willingly Grant accepted the wheelchair, far
better than I would ever have imagined. He realised. it was the best
for him. Without it he couldn't stand the pain of the pressure of his
back on his legs. He would just collapse. The wheelchair was the best
way to cope.
But, of course, our own private nightmare wasn't solved as easily
as that. Grant still needed constant care and attention.
 He was so demanding that I got sick of the sight of him
and his cries of pain.
Night times were the worst. We brought his bed downstairs
because he could no longer go upstairs to his bedroom. Instead, he
slept in the lounge, which backs on to our bedroom.
Our routine was to settle him down and have him asleep
by, possibly, 10 pm. Then we would go to bed and sleep lightly
as we waited for the knock on the wall to signify Grant's first
spasm of the night.
I spent most of those dark nights sleeping in the lounge
with Grant - alternating between his wheelchair and his bed.
When he has a spasm, I would lift him out of bed and put him
in the chair to try and relieve his pain. An hour later we would
swap places.
Nights can be very long, very dark, very lonely and very
scary when you are in that situation.
As usual, these times were compounded by my feeling of
uselessness. I couldn't do much for him at all, apart from trying
to be with him through the agony. But I felt I had to be there.
One night the pain was so bad that we called in the emer-
gency doctor. He stood at the foot of the bed with tears in his
eyes. He had never seen anything like it in a child and he could
do nothing to help. Grant was already on more painkillers than
his body could handle.
Throughout this ordeal I had a stormy relationship with the
various doctors and experts who looked at Grant.
My initial respect and faith in doctors vanished as they, in
my eyes, seemed to fail when I needed them most. They
couldn't even agree on the type of treatment to administer, nor
could they discover the cause of the pain.
When your child is sick you become very protective and are
willing to do anything to get the best for them. I became pushy
and demanding.
I pressured the doctors to tell me what it was that Grant had.
But the closest they could get to a diagnosis was to say they
thought it could be ankylosing spondylitis - a disease in which the
tissue between the vertebrae deteriorates.
In older people it makes them very stooped, but is reasonably
painless. In Grant's case it was the intense pain that went with it
which had them baffled.
At no time did we find out for certain what it was. The spinoff
of this was that because they didn't know what was wrong, they
couldn't prescribe the cure. The best they could do was to give
him increasing dosages of painkillers.
But nothing ever stopped the pain. New drugs might deaden
it for a few weeks, but never dealt with it completely. Eventually
they, too, became ineffective.
The drugs also had side effects. Grant's face became very puffy
and his general health deteriorated badly. At the height of his
sickness he was taking eight aspirin and Naprosyn twice a day.
The anti-inflammatory capsule was so hard on his stomach lining.
that it made him vomit.
One doctor told us that on that medication Grant would only
have 12 months to live. In fact, they were so concerned about the
damage it must be doing his kidneys that they did a scan to make
sure he was still all right.
The drugs were killing him almost as much as the disease. All
medical avenues seemed to end in a brick wall. We'd
read of marvellous cures available overseas, but the doctors told
us that it was no use going elsewhere to seek treatment. They
were in contact with hospitals overseas and were offering us the
best services available anywhere in the world.
Had there even been a remote possibility of finding help
overseas, we would have found a way to get him there. We were
desperate enough to do anything within the realms of medical
possibility. There was nowhere in the world where he could be
healed by medical means.
The black hole was getting blacker.
I was stuck inside my house – my four-walled prison – day
after day, doing exactly the same thing today as I did yesterday.
And I was getting nowhere. When a child has the measles or
mumps at least they get over it. But this was not getting better.
Throughout his ordeal Grant was marvellous. He never got
angry and even apologised for being a nuisance. That didn't help
at all. In fact it made me feel worse.
 24

FOUR

Cracking Up

February and March passed in a depressing haze.

It was sheer hell, a 24-hour blur as Grant became less and less
self-supporting and relied on me more and more.
I was cracking up – physically, mentally and spiritually. The
atmosphere was unbelievably tense, particularly between Brian
and I. Something had to break and I knew it would most . likely be
me.
The early benefits of the wheelchair vanished as we came to
realise its limitations.
There were the small things, which in my frame of mind
became very large things – like the constant jagging of clothing
and stockings on the shiny appendages of the wheelchair.
Then there was the layout of the house – three flights of
stairs, bathrooms and toilets that were too small and just about
every other hitch imaginable.
Grant didn't sleep in his room for months on end – meaning
a waterbed mattress cluttered our lovely lounge.
It was the worst house possible for a boy in a wheelchair –
but of course we hadn't bought it with wheelchairs in mind.
 We'd bought it a thousand. years ago when all the family was
well.
I became sick of looking at the wheelchair in the house, sick of
getting it into the kitchen so Grant could be where the action was,
and generally just sick of Grant and his back.
Confinement to the wheelchair also brought on a physical
change in Grant. He was getting no exercise, as even wriggling his
feet could set off a spasm. And so he was getting plump, both from
lack of movement and the drugs he was continually taking to ease
the pain.
The trials of the handicapped can never, I'm sure, be fully
understood by those who haven't experienced it for themselves.
When people look in a wheelchair they don't see a person's
physical disabilities, but automatically assume a mental handicap.
As soon as Grant was in his wheelchair, people began treating
him differently. They talked down to him, as if he was intellectually
handicapped, or they asked me questions they would have normally
asked him.
My replies were often curt, born out of anguish. Tears were
frequent, so were outbursts of anger and frustration.
Trips to the doctor became an all too familiar nightmare. I
would get mad, indignant that here were medical men, the top in
their field, yet they couldn't give me an answer about what was
wrong with my son. When you have three specialists say they don't
know what's wrong with your child you get agitated. I used to get so
mad I would ask, "Why are you in the job you are in then?" I feel
bad about it now. I found that I would do more for my child than I
would do for myself.
 One day I decided to take Grant back to school. He hadn't
been able to attend much for the last few months, but this day I
was determined.
We drove up to the school gates and got him out of the car
into the wheelchair. We were just about ready to go in when he
threw up everywhere. He was on yet another new medication and
the vomiting was a side effect.
I was absolutely furious. School had been going to be my baby
sitter that day and all my plans of a relaxing time without the
burden of Grant fell to pieces before my eyes.
I dumped him out of the wheelchair, put it back in the car,
slamming everything in sight. Then I took him round to a friend's
house and left him there. I had to, otherwise I wouldn't have been
responsible for my actions.
Then I drove into a nearby street and sat in the car crying for
nearly two hours. I cried and cried and cried and cried until there
was nothing more left. Then I went back to pick him up. It was
sheer frustration, the black hole, the tunnel with no end. And the
tunnel was getting narrower and narrower and I was getting
squeezed tighter and tighter.
About the only thing we knew for certain was that Grant had a
bleak future.
One possible solution was for his spine to be surgically fused.
But at 11 this would stop the growth of his spine while his vital
organs would continue to grow. He would be very misshapen. I
tried not to think about that possibility.
Eventually I got to the stage where I wished he would die
rather than go through life like he was. If the pain had stopped it
wouldn't have been so bad, but the constant agony was more
 than I could take. He was a Christian and we all would have seen
death as a great relief. It would only be us who suffered if he died.
We knew the long term possibilities for Grant if it was
ankylosing spondylitis. One of Brian's customers had the
disease. He used to be a tall and athletic man, but the disease left
him bent over and crippled, barely five feet tall. He
suffered a lot.
Yes, I decided, Grant would be better off dead. Grant's disease
also made me lose patience with God. When we discovered how
hopeless our house was for anyone in a wheelchair, we decided to
sell and find somewhere more suitable.
Before long we had found the perfect house. When the land
agent rang to tell me about it she said it was so good that it sent
shivers down her spine. "I'm beginning to believe that prayer
works," she told me.
As soon as we got the house I knew it was right. It wasn't flash,
certainly nowhere near as good as the house we were in, but I knew
it was right.
The house was owned by a couple who had had two sons
suffering from muscular dystrophy who died. Now the house –
specifically designed for someone with a handicap – was for sale.
It was perfect. It had an indoor spa. It was all on one level,
apart from the girls' bedrooms which were upstairs. I felt that
would be marvellous, because whenever they came home and
brought their friends, it was essential for them to get away from
Grant and do their own thing. Other prime features included a
hoist, a wheel-in shower and doors which could cope with Grant
and the wheelchair.
 It was exactly, to the dollar, the right price - $120,000. With
Grant's sickness we had come under increasing financial
pressure. With me not working we relied on one wage when our
bills had skyrocketed - expensive fast food and doctors' fees
being added: to the usual mortgage, household and car expenses.
We had been comfortable financially, now we were scraping.
Our savings had dwindled away to virtually nothing. And so we
decided when we sold the house we would pay off the mortgage
and buy our next place freehold. This would lessen the financial_
burden in the years to come. We also wanted .enough money left
over to buy a station wagon for Grant's wheelchair. My little car,
with a boot in the front, was hopeless.
And so all our prayers were answered. A $120,000 house
designed for the handicapped - what more could we ask. So we
signed up subject to selling our own house.
I was so confident about the whole deal being "right" that I
rather brashly said to the land agent, "We have prayed about this,
now we'll pray about our house selling." I was convinced God
had given us the perfect house.
But try as we would we couldn't sell our house, even though
it is in one of the more sought-after-areas of Auckland. People
came through, but it just wouldn't sell.
One night we had a phone call from a person who wanted to
buy it. He had-cash and would be around in 15 minutes to
discuss terms for the sale. It sounded as cut and dried as it could
be without an actual agreement being signed.
So we delayed our dinner and waited for him to arrive. We
waited ..... and waited ..... and waited. He never turned up.
To this day we don't know what happened, but he just didn't
arrive.
The heartbreak over not selling the house made me lose
patience with God again. I had it all worked out. It was perfect.
We had a house, we had a buyer - and the whole thing fell apart,
just like the rest of my world.
Grant's illness caused tremendous friction in my relation-
ship with Brian.
Actually, it made Brian my worst enemy. We were two
people living in the same house, but that was all. He was trav-
elling a lot with his job, which was just as well. It kept us away
from one another.
When he arrived home at the end of a week away I would
sometimes walk straight out the door as he walked in, not even
speaking to him. I'd go shopping or have my hair done.
By the end of each week I was at the end of my tether and
knew Iwas on the verge of exploding. If I spoke to him I would
say something we'd both regret.
I tried to explain to him but I knew it hurt.

This rising hostility worked both ways. Brian had always

phoned us in the mornings when he was away, just to see how
things were. But while Grant was sick he stopped - he just
couldn't cope with the bad news all the time.
Even the way we handled Grant caused friction.

To Brian, Grant was the only thing that mattered. He would

try to help him through the spasms, flannel him down and
support him. But I was hard. I wanted to just leave him and let
him get on with it.
And Brian used to let Grant get away with murder. What he
didn't recognise was that even though he was sick, Grant
was still a young boy and he still got naughty. There were
times when you had to growl. But Brian was so sympathetic
he was really hurting for him.
And so the friction heightened. Brian was soft and I was
hard and ne'er the twain shall meet.
And all this time Grant was dying before our eyes. He was
taken off Naprosyn and put on Feldene, yet another potent
drug. The next alternative was Temgesic, an addictive anal-
gesic. If that didn't work there was only morphine left. Grant
didn't have long to go.
And I was cracking up, dogged by this dreadful feeling of
hopelessness.
It was like standing on the edge of a pool and watching
your child drown and being unable to do anything to help.
 31

FIVE

Broken

The final straw came on April 3, 1984.

The previous day we had taken Grant back to the

orthopaedic surgeon, carrying him into his office. He shut
the door, stripped him off and just shook his head. He could
not believe the deterioration in the seven months since he
had first seen Grant.
So he immediately booked him in to an orthopaedic con-
ference at Auckland Hospital the next day. The matter was
coming to a head, worsening by the day, and something ur-
gent had to be done.
There were 25 people at the conference, not all
orthopaedic surgeons, but all attached to the orthopaedic
unit. When they came out one of them said, "Well, I really
have not got an answer for you. We will now try the plaster
cast."
The plaster cast was to stretch from under Grant's arms
to the tops of his thighs. It seemed drastic but if ever there
was a time for drastic measures it was now.
The reason for the cast - which would be for three to six
months - was to stop Grant moving and therefore lessen the
pain. He could come off some of the drugs.

The benefits of the cast seemed small when compared with

the negative effects. The worst would be that Grant's immobility
would make it much easier for the disease to move through his
body. But the pain would be less - or so they thought.
Another problem was that Grant wouldn't be able to take a
deep breath or cough. He would just be able to clear his throat -
that is if he did it slowly.
It would be a plaster coffin!

The decision to use body plaster caused dissension among

the doctors. Some were adamant that the bad would outweigh
the good. It was hard seeing doctors in conflict, the very people
whom you put your faith in because you think they know the
answer.
Once I saw what he would have to go through I began hav-
ing second thoughts. I was frightened at the experiment we were
putting our child through.
However, it seemed there was no alternative, so we left the
orthopaedic conference and went straight away to have the cast
applied.
But Grant did not go through months in a plaster coffin. Six
minutes proved to be more than he could handle.
They balanced him on a T-bar and told him to stretch as tall
as he could go. But the pain was so intense that he wanted to
vomit. He was told to stand still and rest.
But as they began to layer the wet plaster on his body he
panicked, feeling claustrophobic from the casing around his
chest.
Then he fainted.
 We were standing outside in the corridor and suddenly
heard the sound of running and someone calling, "Get it off
him fast." People were running everywhere. It was absolutely
chaotic.
We rushed into the room and saw a horrible sight. There
was my son, lying on the bed looking terrified; a tortured
child. I have never seen fear in a child's eyes as I saw that
day. He looked the ultimate of a person who is demon-
possessed. The terror in his eyes was unbelievable.
The last resort, the plaster cast, had failed.

After he recovered, we took Grant home, propped up in

the back of the car. He shook and looked white as a ghost all
the way. Every time I went near him he would back off, like a
child who had been beaten. Later he just slept for hours.
That was the episode that finally broke me. I felt dreadful
that I had consented to putting my son through that kind of
terror. It was then, for the first time, that I gave up hope of
doing something practical for him. There was no hope any
more. Everything had been tried and everything had failed.
That afternoon I was sewing - something I often do when I'm
uptight or depressed. It's the greatest form of relaxation I
know. I'd been doing a lot of sewing. The day before I had
made a dress, an indication of the growing tension within.
But sewing couldn't pacify me this time.

My crumbling world caved in when I saw Grant in the

hospital. Down on the floor, sewing and crying, I let out a
tortured cry to God and said, "What now?"
34

SIX

My History Of Unbelief

In retrospect it seems absurd that I should wait until I was

absolutely desperate before I cried out to God.
I had prayed for Grant many times, but never for his heal-
ing. My prayers were more general - for his well-being, his
ability to handle his sickness, even for the pain to go.....
But I had never asked God to heal my son. After all, as far
as I was concerned those things just didn't happen today. And if
they did, they certainly didn't happen in New Zealand.
My opposition to healing and any supernatural evidence
that God still existed was deeply rooted in my childhood and
upbringing.
My childhood is one filled with fond memories of a fabu-
lous family with a mother and father who loved us deeply and
lots of caring and sharing.
Mum was Christian and Dad a non-Christian, but he always
encouraged the family to go to church. He would walk us to
church each Sunday, and drop us off for all our church activi-
ties. Occasionally he would go to church picnics. Even more
occasionally he would attend church himself.
 He did make a commitment to the Christian faith when I
was 12 and we were living in Dunedin.
But this was to last just 24 hours. The next night some
church leaders came round and pressured him into getting
baptised. It was the completely wrong approach for him, in-
credibly insensitive, and Dad just walked away from his new
faith.
The next year we moved to Palmerston North, a move
which Mum believed would be the beginning of a real change
in Dad. She hoped that without all his old Dunedin friends to
hold him back he would come to Christ, particularly as her
two sisters, who both had Christian husbands, also lived in
Palmerston.
In 1965, five years after we moved to Palmerston North,
Mum's prayers were answered. Dad became a Christian, some-
thing that should have meant rejoicing for the whole family.
But Dad's decision to follow Christ destroyed our previ-
ously warm relationship and before long my father became my
enemy. I hated him.
The reason was that he became a Pentecostal Christian. It
happened during a Pentecostal campaign in town at which one
of my cousins was speaking. Mum went along, enjoyed it and
returned the next night with quite a few others. This time she
was baptised in the Holy Spirit - was filled with God's power.
She began speaking in tongues and instantly - despite a
lifetime of previous Christian commitment - became a
different person.
She walked into our house that night and Dad could see
the change. Immediately he said, "What you had before I
didn't want, but what you have now I want."
 The next night Dad, too, went to the meeting and made a
commitment to follow Jesus Christ. He came home, threw his
cigarettes in the fire and never smoked again. He stopped
drinking as well. It was a complete change.
But as far as I was concerned he might as well have wor-
shipped the devil.
The church that Mum and I had happily attended for years
didn't approve of the Pentecostal movement, so Mum and Dad
began going to another church. I remained where I was and
heard all my church's teaching against "Pentecostalism." I began
to hate my father. It was illogical really, particularly seeing it was
Mum, not Dad, who started the whole thing. But I took my
anger out on my father.
Meanwhile Dad had the tremendous zeal that most new
Christians get and he tried to convince me that I, too, needed
this Pentecostal experience. He said I needed power in my very
life, an infilling of the Holy Spirit. He wasn't very tactful, and
the more he did so the more it got my back up. The split in the
family got worse and worse.
Mum and Dad would have noisy Pentecostal meetings in
our house and I would sit in my bedroom and fume. One night,
unable to control myself any longer, I stormed downstairs and
told them all to go home so I could get some sleep.
At my church the service would go for an hour, but at
theirs it would drag on into the night. I used to wait impatiently
for them to get home and give them a terrible dressing down
for being so late.
It was like I was the parent and they were the children. The
situation eventually got so bad that Brian and I advanced plans
for our marriage, just so I could get out of my parents' house.
 I was so determined to do something about future inter
family tension that Brian and I made it a rule in our home
that religion was never to be discussed with my parents. Each
time they came to stay we had an uneasy truce and Mum
would talk flat out to try and keep the peace.
Of course they hadn't made the same rule in their house,
so whenever we went there we were sitting ducks for their
style of Christianity. Many times I just walked out when they
started talking about it. I felt very vulnerable when I was
there. It was just as well we had shifted to Auckland and they
were by now living in Feilding. That way we rarely saw each
other - otherwise the whole situation would have exploded.
In Auckland, Brian and I drifted in our faith and our
marriage, never knowing the vitality in our Christian life
which deep down I sensed we were missing. Many times I
wondered about the vibrance in my parents' lives, but my
pride never let me search any further.
When Grant got sick I noticed that my mother was the
only person whose prayers seemed to have any effect. She
would sit by his bed with her eyes closed and I could see she
was praying quietly. I didn't realise it at the time, but she was
praying in tongues and rebuking all the evil power robbing
Grant of his health. I didn't know or understand any of this, I
just knew Grant became very calm when she prayed.
My father also prayed and told me he knew Grant would
not stay like that. He didn't know if he would be healed or die,
but he knew he wouldn't have to endure it for long.
I wasn't so sure. After all, looking after Grant day and
night, week after week and month after month, seemed like
forever to me. As far as I was concerned he wouldn't be
healed. I just
didn't believe God did those sorts of things. I shut my m ind
off, having been so anti anything which smelled of
Pentecostalism.
Another person I knew was a businessman, John Wanhill.
We met while participating in a Christian musical in
Auckland. He seemed a nice enough guy to me, but when I
found out he, too, believed in some Pentecostal doctrine I
completely rejected him. At one time I bitterly exclaimed to
him, "I will never speak to you again. I am not interested in
you now I know you are one of those."
But he said something that turned out prophetic. "One
day you're going to need this."
Years later I had to ring John when Paula had to find a
job for a day as part of a school project. He was the only
person I could think of so I swallowed my pride and phoned.
The next year the same thing happened, so I again rang
John and we began talking about the family. It was at that
time that Grant's sickness was nearing its peak and so I
poured out the whole tale. He was terribly shocked and later
rang back to ask if I would consider taking him to Bill
Subritzky, a businessman who prayed for sick people and saw
them healed.
My mother was in Auckland to help me for the week and
when I told her about John's suggestion she said, "Oh, what a
good idea," wisely hiding the excitement she felt at the possi -
bility.
The next week I did ring Bill, but when I discovered he
was overseas I put him out of my mind. Besides, I wasn't
really concerned about Grant being healed. All that really
worried me was the pain. After all, there are so many people
in wheel
chairs these days. And, looking on the bright side, I knew Grant
couldn't have picked a better time to be crippled. People were
becoming increasingly used to the handicapped and catering
more and more for them.
If the pain had gone I would have been quite happy for him
to stay in the wheelchair. But the pain didn't go.
And so I struggled through the next six weeks and my
world continued to fall apart.
I became increasingly weighed down by the hopelessness of
the case presented by the doctors and, as the final straw, the
episode with the plaster cast.
The thread of my sanity was being stretched taut and I
knew I had reached breaking point.
That was when I was on the floor and finally shook off
years of indoctrination to turn to God in despair and cry out,
"What now?"
40

SEVEN

I Believe In Miracles!

It was the first time I had ever really turned to God in total
desperation. And it was completely a last resort. I had such a
feeling of weakness, uselessness and inadequacy.
And as I sat there weeping out my frustration, a series of
messages started coming to me.
"Ring Bill, ring Bill.
Take him to be prayed for.
You know what you should do.
I have already told you."
They were almost audible voices, unlike anything I'd ever
heard before. I know no one else would have heard them, but to
me they were crystal clear. There was no question that something,
someone was telling me something. Deep down I knew it was
God.
Everything pointed to one thing. Go and see Bill Subritzky.
And so I phoned Bill's office and made an appointment for noon
the next day. His only condition was that Brian and I had to go
too. It was six weeks since I had previously phoned Bill and I
remember being vaguely surprised that he was in New Zealand this
time.
 I still wasn't sure it was the right thing to do, however. I
had heard a bit about Bill and his Pentecostal leanings. I
thought, "Oh no, not another weirdo." Even the name
Subritzky put me off. "Why does he have to be a foreigner?" I
wondered. "Why couldn't he just be John Brown?"
I had never seen anyone prayed for and I didn't believe
anyone who claimed to be healed through prayer. I simply
believed they hadn't been sick in the first place.
Despite the apparent supernatural messages in answer to
the cry of my heart, I went to bed that night feeling no emo-
tion, no mounting excitement, no hope. I was completely
neutral. I certainly wasn't expecting a miracle the next day.
In the morning I rang Mum and rather uncharacteristically
asked her to pray that I would go through with it. I still had a
good relationship with Mum, but to ring and ask her for
prayer took a bit of doing.
What I didn't realise was that my phone call set in action
an enormous chain of prayer throughout New Zealand. Mum's
phone bill was enormous as she rang every Christian and
prayer group she could think of around the country. Then she
and Dad settled down to pray. They left the others to pray
that Grant would be healed. They just prayed that we would
go.
That morning I decided to go to a Bible study held by the
women's group at my church. I figured that if I had to get up,
get Grant ready and go out, I might as well attend the study
first.
Our study was on patience and it made me lose my cool. I
told the women how I had lost patience with God, how the
house wouldn't sell, how things just weren't going right.
 From there Grant and I went into town to keep the ap-
pointment with Bill, not telling the women at the study where we
were going.
As we came to Bill's office I sensed a faint glimmer of hope. I
thought that perhaps after Bill had prayed for Grant we would see
an improvement. Maybe the doctors would find something or he
would slowly come right. But I still didn't entertain the possibility
of a miracle.
We met Brian at the office and one of Bill's staff, Alan
Campbell, came down when we arrived to help carry Grant, in his
wheelchair, up the carpeted staircase.
Then we waited in the reception area for about 10 minutes. I
was shivering, but it wasn't cold.
When Bill came out my first impression was that he had a
kind of aura around him, a complete calmness. He came to the
reception desk and spoke briefly to the person there before he
acknowledged us. Then he went off, evidently to pray in another
room.
We continued to wait and I continued to shiver.

Brian, too, was quiet, nervous and jittery. He admitted later

how much out of his depth he felt.
Eventually we were ushered into his office and Bill shut the
door. It was just as well, otherwise I may have left. I was nervous
about the whole situation. It was so much against my upbringing
and beliefs. The office was pretty posh, I thought as I looked
around, but my main reaction was one of rising panic - "I have got
to be mad."
I said very little, which is unusual for me. Bill did most of the
talking.
First he asked us if we believed in Jesus Christ as our own
personal Saviour. We all said, "Yes." Then he asked us what church
we went to and we told him.
And then he read from the Bible, telling us that it is not God's
will for us to be sick, that God allows sickness but never gives
people sickness. And emphasised that God heals today. Grant's
condition may have been a testing time for us, but there was no
way God wanted him to be like that.
He talked for about 15 minutes - asking us about our home,
whether we were into witchcraft, horoscopes or were Freemasons.
Then he explained how people could have demon spirits. At that
my hackles started to rise, thinking, "Who is he to tell my child that
people can have demons?" I was not impressed.
He was quite blunt throughout, saying exactly what he meant,
not mincing words. Brian, Grant and I barely spoke. Bill just
talked, now and again looking at us to see if we were following
him.
At one point he asked Grant if he believed God could heal
him and, to my surprise, Grant immediately answered, "Yes." I
whispered a quick prayer under my breath that he wouldn't be too
disappointed if he wasn't healed.
After his talk Bill asked Brian and I to stand in the centre of
his office. I closed my eyes, he put his hand on the top of my head
and the next thing I knew I was lying on the floor. He hadn't
pushed me, I hadn't slipped or tripped, but somehow I had been
knocked over backwards. 1 just went out like a light, oblivious to
anything going on around me. I didn't feel myself going and I
didn't even feel myself hit the floor. I just opened my eyes and
there I was.
I wasn't too sure about it, but I knew it felt good. I now know
it was God who "knocked" me over as He touched my life.
 Suddenly, and against my will, I had become one of those
holy rollers whom I had so bitterly opposed for my whole life!
I was like Dad!
After a few minutes I got up, feeling different. I was more
relaxed and confident, as if a load had been lifted from my
shoulders. There was something in the room that I had never
felt before. It was a peace which I think we all felt.
Bill prayed for Brian and his prayer was that our attitudes
wouldn't stop Grant being healed. Brian remained standing,
he wasn't "knocked" over.
Finally Bill went to pray for Grant, anointed him with oil,
then prayed again.
He had his hand on Grant's shoulder as he sat in his
wheelchair and then simply said, "I want you to stand up."
I thought, "This is dumb, he doesn't stand up. He is not
able to stand up."
But Grant stood up, by himself, something which was
physically impossible for him to do. If he was helped he could
stand up for 10 seconds, but he could not push himself out of
the wheelchair like he was now. I was dumbstruck and could
only think, "My goodness."
Bill pushed the wheelchair out of the way, turned him
round, prayed again for a few seconds and suddenly Grant
crashed to the ground.
All my doubts began flooding back. "He's packed up
again, he's had it," I thought. What I didn't realise was that
Grant had fallen under the power of the Holy Spirit, just like I
had. God was working in his life.
Then I looked down at Grant and I saw the most
beautiful expression on his face. His eyes were shut, but he
was smiling.
 The difference between Grant then and the Grant I had seen
the day before, just after the plaster cast incident, was
unbelievable. They were two different people. If you'd seen
photos of the two you wouldn't have believed they were the same.
All the torture had been taken out of his face.
Bill knelt down and again dabbed oil on his forehead, de-
manding in the name of Jesus that all tormenting spirits come out
of Grant's body. Grant lay completely calm and still.
Still I fought the possibility of a miracle happening. I was
witnessing the most amazing expression of God touching
someone's life, and yet I still couldn't shake off my belief that God
didn't work today. I even warned Bill that Grant couldn't walk,
thinking that somehow the things taking place before my eyes had
to stop.
But ill wasn't ready to stop yet.

He asked Grant to get up, which he did, and then told him to
touch his toes. I couldn't believe it, but Grant did so without the
slightest hesitation. During his illness, if he stood with his hands at
his side, he` could only slide each hand an inch down his legs.
Now hewas touching his toes.

Bill then began walking- Grant around, like you do when you
teach a child to walk., He led him round the room - and there was
my boy, just like a toddler following his father around.
Brian was sobbing and I think I was too. It was all too unreal
to be true and yet I knew it was really happening. I felt so excited
and realised for the first time in my life that God is not to be
limited by man.
My doubts were still there, but they were being quickly
dispelled. As Bill led him round the room, Brian and I hovered
anxiously, waiting to catch him if he fell. I knew something
wonderful, a miracle, was taking place. But I still thought it
would have to happen over a period, that this would be the
start of a recovery process.
In fact, I didn't really want any more right then and there.
I didn't want to be greedy.
But Bill still wasn't finished.

Next he opened his office door and asked Grant if he

would like to walk down to the reception area and back. The
corridor is about 60 metres long and he managed that quite
well.
When he came back, Bill said, "Would you like to run?"
And so off Grant went again, running up and down the corri-
dor.
And all the time the office floor became wetter and wetter
with our tears and Brian and I cried for joy. I was uncontrol-
lable, sobbing and sobbing. Alan Campbell was there too, also
crying and smiling.
And I began to feel Bill's sympathy and compassion,
whereas before he had seemed a bit clinical. Now he was
human again.
It was an amazing feeling to be so desperate and feel there
is no hope and then see such a victory. It was something you
could never describe, something that will be with us for the
rest of our lives. Even now, when we talk about it, I cry. I find
I get very emotional when I think just how wonderful it's
been. Grant returned from running up and down the corridor
looking a bit sheepish, slightly embarrassed. But he was
exhilarated all the same. His face was a bit pale, but it glowed.
He was healed! God had healed him. God was alive and
working in the 20th Century. It was an amazing discovery.
 The reality of God working in the modern world was
brought home when one of the workers at the office looked
in, simply said, "Oh, another miracle, praise the Lord," and
walked off.
To him it was commonplace - he saw it all the time. To
us it was the most wonderful thing ever, a total revolution in
our thinking and indoctrination.
And then, suddenly, Bill was gone, saying something
about grabbing a sandwich for lunch. I wanted to hug him
and thank him, but looking back I know that would have
meant I was giving him the glory and not God.
I looked at my watch and it was 12.45. It had taken 45
minutes for our lives to be turned upside down - Grant was
healed and we would never be the same again.
Now I believe in miracles!
 EIGHT

Totally Healed

That afternoon became a blur of telling: people about the

wonderful thing God had done in our lives.
It was like a tap had been turned on that couldn't be turned
off. Our excitement poured out as we rejoiced.
The healing was immediately used, right there in Bill
Subritzky's office, as a witness to non-Christians. Alan asked, "Can
we stop at this office? There are a few unbelievers in here."
One of them asked Grant how he was and Grant just grinned
and said, "Good."
Then we went to John Wanhill's shop. Somehow he had
already heard and he came out to meet us and said excitedly, "I can
tell by your face."
From there we went back to the city for lunch, at Grant's
request going upstairs to eat. He could climb again!
After lunch Brian returned to work and Grant and I went to
visit a former missionary friend of mine. It was as if I wanted her
to tell me it was okay. She cried and cried and cried, and so did her
daughter. She prayed and thanked the Lord for healing him. She
was so excited.
 It was all right, it was real. I felt reassured:

That afternoon we had to visit one of the doctors because

Grant had been about to spend another spell in hospital. We
arrived at the surgery and the doctor happened to be out on the
street waiting for someone to pick him up and take him to the-
hospital. We parked about six car lengths away and walked up to
him together.
He knew how bad Grant had been, even that morning, yet
here was the same boy bouncing around him with a huge smile all
over his face. We told him what had happened and he patted
Grant on the shoulder and said, "Good on you, Grant. Now go
and enjoy your life."
And that was all. Yet it was enough. God had done what, in
this case, no doctor could do - heal my son.
Then we returned to the house where we'd attended the
Bible study that morning.- just to show them. Only two women
were left and it took them a few moments to click that Grant
wasn't in his wheelchair any more.
They were absolutely speechless. Having only seen him that
morning themselves, they could barely believe what they were
seeing. They were thrilled for us, but they were very hesitant.
Nothing like that had ever happened before.
We got home that afternoon and Grant ran up and down the
stairs. He went into his bedroom for the first time in months. By
5 pm he was riding around the streets.
We cried and laughed and praised God, sometimes all at the
same time. It was the most marvellous sense of release, a bit like
your favourite dream coming true. We knew we weren't going to
have to wake up from this one.
News of Grant's healing spread fast and soon our phone
was running hot. Some of our friends took it very well, rejoicing
with us. Others were more sceptical -like me, brought up to
believe healing wasn't of God. Yet knowing the situation, they
couldn't deny its reality.
I understood their dilemma. I wondered what my reaction
would have been if I had been in their shoes. I think I would
have been happy for the child and his parents, but perhaps not
so delighted in the way it happened.
A praise time was arranged at church that evening and the
place was really full. There were even one or two sceptics
present. I don't think there was a dry eye in the place, except
perhaps for the sceptics. They had Grant up the front and they
must have run him up and down the steps 10 times. It was as
though they needed convincing that it was the same boy, and
that he was now well.
The last time he actually ran up the steps and at the top
threw his arms in the air and praised God. I thought, "Oh good-
ness, you don't do that here."
Funnily enough, Grant had been to church just the Sunday
before. Because he'd been so sick, it was the first time he'd been
in months. But I had woken up that morning and something
kept saying to me, "Take Grant to church."
Initially I suppressed the idea because it was such an ordeal
to get him dressed. And keeping a 10 o'clock appointment was
beyond me.
But it kept nagging at me, so I took him. I felt sorry for the
people that day, there were so many tears. At that stage most of
them just thought he was a little boy with a sore back. But when
they saw him with sunken eyes, very pale and sitting in a
wheelchair it was quite moving.
 The effect of him being at church that day was that people
there saw him at his worst. Now, just a few days later, they could
see him completely healed. It was amazing. I realise now that
God was telling me to take him to church so people could
witness how bad he was before he was healed.
Some still didn't believe. Others wanted a doctor's analysis,
but I didn't agree. I believed we had to take the healing at face
value, accept the miracle as it was.
That morning he couldn't walk, that night he could run and
ride a bike. What more evidence do you need? There was no
doubt in my mind what had happened.
Other people sat back and waited to see what might happen.
If they were honest they were eventually convinced. Grant never
regressed. The only physical problem he had was blisters from
walking and an initial stiffness and cramp from his long unused
ankles.
Nothing of his illness remained.

As events unfolded, we could see how God's hand had been

in the whole situation - even in the darkest times of Grant's
sickness.
A couple of weeks after the healing we got a cash offer on
our house. But our agreement on the other place had expired so
we weren't obliged to move. We didn't want to move anyway.
Suddenly the stairs weren't an obstacle any more!
I began to understand some of the processes God had taken
me through during the illness. He took me to a point where I
would give up my house willingly. I realised my home had
become my god. To me it was just like a palace and I had treated
it as such. I was the queen in the palace.
 Now I was willing to give it up for God - and when I had
come to that point, He didn't require it of me anymore. God had
had His hand on' the whole situation. If we had sold our house
and bought the other one -I would- have accepted Grant's
sickness as God's will. He never would have been healed. As it
was we got the best of both worlds - a son who recovered and
the house we love.
Then there was the episode, a few days later, of trying to take
the wheelchair back to the hospital.
The woman took one look at me and asked, "Is he de-
ceased?" I didn't appreciate the question because it would have
been very insensitive if I had been a grieving mother. But I said,
"No, he is actually well."

She said, "But you don't get well from that."

"If you've got a few minutes I will tell you," I said, and pro-
ceeded to detail just what had happened. She's probably still got
her mouth open. She didn't even comment, apart from
suggesting I keep the wheelchair in case the problem came back.
But I knew it wasn't coming back, so I left it with her.
Grant's healing also healed the relationship between my father
and me. Soon afterwards it was Easter and I went down to
Palmerston North.
Dad and I just cuddled and cried together. Now whenever I
go down we take out our Bibles and launch into heavy, but
amicable discussion. If I have a low 1 ring him and go down for a
week and study the Scriptures with him:
Grant himself immediately adjusted back into normal life. He
went back to school the next day, started playing sports and
became a normal 11 year old.
 On his first day at school I arrived with this child with a
beaming face and walked to the office where there were prob-
ably six to eight teachers. The woman in the office kept say -
ing, "Look at his face, look at his face." It was shining like a
light. The poor headmaster was quite stunned. It's very hard
for somebody to acknowledge a situation like that.
His teachers and classmates accepted the healing with
varying degrees of incredulity.
His teacher encouraged him, but I think he wanted to see
if he was going to deteriorate again. He wanted to put a
sheepskin on Grant's chair and said, "Well, we won't do any
sport." "Look, he's fine," I replied. "He's to do everything."
And so Grant immediately began full participation,
though now and then in some strenuous activity like high
jump the teacher would ask whether Grant really wanted to
do it.
He did, with no ill effect.
Why not indeed? He had been totally healed by God!
 NINE

To God Be The Glory

Nearly three years have passed since we had our lives turned
upside down by God. They have been good years, full of fun and
learning more about how big God is.
There have been sadnesses as well. We've left our old church
because, when the initial euphoria died down, they couldn't
accept the healing as being of God. We've also lost some of our
old friends and there are still many who shake their heads in
disbelief, preferring to shut Grant's healing out of their minds.
But the pluses enormously outweigh the minuses. Grant's
health was actually better after he was healed than it had been
before he got sick. Months later, almost by accident, he
discovered that his lifelong allergy to milk had disappeared as
well. Now he drinks gallons of milk with no ill effects.
Then there's the family. We now have three healthy children
who know so much more about God and how He works. We
have grown strong as a family. We still have the normal bickering
and disputes among the children, but there is a
depth of experience there which we would never have had if we
hadn't been through the experience with Grant.
Grant's illness has brought Brian and me together in a far
closer way than we had previously experienced.
The tensions we faced then were real enough, but in a
strange way they built a stronger bond between us. Our mar-
riage is far stronger now than it was before. We now know how
much we depend on each other.
The list of people touched and changed by Grant's healing
is endless.
Brian's brother became a Christian soon after his marriage
had broken up.
Brian's mother was baptised in the Holy Spirit at the age of
70 as the depth of God was revealed to her.
Two people at work became Christians after hearing the
story.
A friend of ours who had been a Christian but had fallen
back recommitted his life to God.
The list goes on and on. Many times I've shared our story at
church meetings and people have been touched by the power of
God. Earlier in my Christian life I wished I had something
dynamic to say in my conversion testimony so people would sit
up and listen.
Now God has answered my prayer.

My Christian life is much stronger now. I had become very

lax in prayer and reading my Bible. There were times when I
wasn't happy at church so I just didn't go. People coming to my
home wouldn't have even known I was a Christian.
Nowadays I'm fired up. I've really found something worth
talking about.
 Ankylosing spondylitis - or whatever it was Grant had - has
never reared its ugly head again. Today no one would know he
had ever been sick. He's just a normal, healthy boy of 13.
We still don't know precisely how he got sick. The turn he had
that day at Brian's parents suggests some sort of demonic attack,
and perhaps the sickness resulted from that. However, that
doesn't explain why I'd already seen a slowdown in him. To me
it's unimportant anyway. He is well now, that's all that matters to
me.
Apart from Grant's suffering, I don't regret one moment of it
at all.
We all came through far better.

People often ask why. Why do people get sick? Why did
Grant have to go through that? Why do we suffer?
I don't have all the answers. I'm not dogmatic enough to
suggest that the same thing must happen to others as happened in
our family.
But I know one thing. God does heal today. He healed my
son when the doctors couldn't.
To God be all the glory and the praise.
How you can receive the
greatest miracle of all.....
 TEN

How to be Born Again

By Bill Subritzky

1. WE MUST COUNT THE COST

There is a cost involved in being born again. The Bible tells

us to count that cost before we decide to follow Jesus. "And
whoever does not bear his cross and come after Me cannot be
My disciple."
"For which of you, intending to build a tower, does
not sit down first and count the cost, whether he has
enough to finish it -
"lest, after he has laid the foundation, and is not able
to finish, all who see it begin to mock him, "saying, `This
man began to build and was not able to finish.'
"Or what king, going to make war against another king,
does not sit down first and consider whether he is able
with ten thousand to meet him who comes against him
with twenty thousand?
 "Or else, while the other is still a great way off, he
sends a delegation and asks conditions of peace. "So
likewise, whoever of you does not forsake all that he has
cannot be My disciple." (Luke 14:2733)
Becoming a Christian is not simply joining a club. It is a
decision to take up a new way of life and become like Jesus
Christ Himself, a revolutionary. This does not mean that we set
out to pull down fleshly governments, but that we decide to
adopt a radically changed lifestyle in the sense that Jesus Christ
is now going to become Lord of every part of our life. Hence
we need to consider the cost that is involved and be sure that
we are prepared to pay the price. Once we have made that
decision and never turn back, then we will begin to understand
the job of being a Christian.
There is no "cheap" or "easy" grace. That is, we cannot
expect God's favour to be upon us if we do not actively turn
from sin and obey the commandments of our Lord Jesus Christ.

2. BECOME LIKE A LITTLE CHILD

Having considered the cost, we then need to become like a

little child in our approach to God. We need to put aside all
prejudice, arrogance and pride and humble ourselves before
God.
"Then Jesus called a little child to Him, set him in the
midst of them,
and said, "Assuredly, I say to you, unless you are
converted and become as little children, you will by no
means enter the kingdom of heaven.
"Therefore whoever humbles himself as this little child
is the greatest in the kingdom of heaven.
 "Whoever receives one little child like this in My name
receives Me." (Matthew 18:25)
Our education will not get us into heaven, nor will our works
of themselves. Jesus has pointed out that we need to humble
ourselves like a little child if we are to enter the kingdom of
heaven. Jesus Christ shocked His disciples by washing their feet
before He went onto the cross. Peter objected to this but Jesus
said that if He was not allowed to wash the feet of Peter, then
Peter would have no part with Him. Peter quickly agreed to the
washing, not only of his feet but also his hands and his head.
Jesus then said:
"You call me Teacher and Lord, and you say well, for so
I am.
"If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your
feet, you also ought to wash one another's feet. "For I
have given you an example, that you should do as I have
done to you." (John 13:1315)
Satan fell because of pride. Pride is the greatest enemy to our
coming to know Jesus Christ as our Lord and Saviour. Jesus has
given us the example of humility.

3. REPENTANCE

Repentance does not mean being sorry for our sins, but
rather turning completely from them. It is a 180 degree turn. It is
a decision to turn from sin,, not a feeling. When Jesus met Paul
on the Damascus Road he spoke words which very clearly
described the meaning of repentance:

"to open their eyes, in order to turn them from darkness

to light, and from the power of Satan to God,
 that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an in-
heritance among those who are sanctified by faith in Me."
(Acts 26:18)
Repentance is therefore turning from darkness to light and
from the power of Satan to God. When we turn from darkness
to light it means we allow the light of God fully into our lives
and we turn away from all the darkness of sin.
John the Baptist, who was six months older than Jesus
Christ and came as the forerunner to proclaim the coming of the
Lord, preached the message of repentance. Among the first mes-
sages that Jesus preached were the words, "Repent for the king-
dom of heaven is at hand." (Matthew 4:17) Repentance involves
a complete change of heart, not just an emotion.
In the story of the Prodigal Son, the young man left his
father's home after receiving his inheritance. He went and
squandered it. When the son came to himself as he lay among
the swine and wanted to eat their food, he said:

"I will arise and go to my father, and will say to him,

`Father, I have sinned against heaven and before you, and
I am no longer worthy to be called your son. Make me like
one of your hired servants."
(Luke 15:1819)
And the next words we read are:
"And he arose and came to his father."
(Luke 15:20)
He decided to repent and go back to his father. He in fact
did something, namely he arose and went to his father. This
shows the decision needed for repentance.
 On the other hand, we are told that Judas, who betrayed Jesus
Christ, was remorseful after he saw that Jesus Christ had been
condemned. He brought back the thirty pieces of silver to the chief
priests and elders. However, he was not repentant and therefore
could not know God's forgiveness. In his remorse he went and
hanged himself.
Remorse is a feeling, repentance is a decision. Repentance is
where our will meets the will of God on the cross of Jesus Christ.
We place our will under God's will and decide to follow Jesus. That
is true repentance. No matter how we feel we make the decision
and follow it.
We need to get on our knees and confess our sins to God. It is
good to do this aloud and as we confess them the devil begins to
flee from our life. We should do this from our heart. Tears of
conviction may well flow. We need to forgive others, especially our
parents and those who are closest to us. Lack of forgiveness on our
part is the greatest barrier to a true walk with God. He has forgiven
us of all our sins and therefore we must forgive others. We must
renounce all involvement in the occult, all wrong forms of sexual
activity, all lying, cheating, immorality of all descriptions. The more
repentant we are, the more we open ourselves to the Spirit of God.
We can confess our sins directly to God through Jesus Christ
because there is only one mediator between God and man, the man
Christ Jesus. On occasions it is good to confess our sins or
trespasses to one another.

"Confess your trespasses to one another, and pray for one

another, that you may be healed. The effective, fervent
prayer of a righteous man avails much." (James 5:16)
 Whichever way we do it, it must be a heartfelt decision to
turn from sin, to bring all the darkness out into the light so that
the darkness flees. As we do so we will begin to know true
deliverance from the power of sin.

4. RENOUNCE

Having confessed those sins, we then need to renounce

them. That is, we need to turn absolutely from them and say that
we do not want them in our lives and renounce them in the name
of Jesus Christ.
5. GOD'S GRACE

In all of this we must remember the grace (favour) of God.

It is through His favour that we have been saved through faith
which God gives us. As we truly repent and turn from sin and
turn to God, we find that the gift of God's faith and favour
begins to operate in our lives.
If you have followed the above steps, then you are now
ready to be born again. In following the above steps you may
already know the infilling presence of God upon you, but in any
case, we should remember the condition of entry into the
kingdom of God set out in Romans 10:8-10:

"But what does it say? "The word is near you, in your

mouth and in your heart" (that is, the word of faith which
we preach): that if you confess with your mouth the Lord
Jesus and believe in your heart that God has raised Him
from the dead, you will be saved.
For with the heart one believes unto righteousness, and
with the mouth confession is made unto salvation."
(Romans 10:8-10)
 Thus, as we confess with our mouths the name of the Lord
Jesus Christ and believe in our hearts that God has raised Him
from the dead, we will be saved.
6. ARE YOU READY?

If so, could I have the privilege of suggesting a simple

prayer which you might like to follow as you go on your knees:

Dear Heavenly Father, I come to You in the name of

Your Son, Jesus Christ. I come a sinner and I now
renounce all of my sins. I confess the sins of (name those
sins) and I utterly renounce those sins in the name of Jesus
Christ. f absolutely turn from them. I especially renounce
any involvement in the occult (if you or your parents or
ancestors have been in Freemasonry or Druids Lodge you
should especially renounce that involvement). I renounce
all the works of the devil.
I believe Jesus Christ came into this world, born of the
virgin, that He walked this earth, that He was crucified on
a cross and that He died in order to cleanse me from all
sin, to reconcile me to You, Heavenly Father, and that
through His precious blood He bought me back from the
hand of the devil. I believe He paid the total penalty for all
of the sins I have ever committed and that through His
blood I am cleansed, redeemed and sanctified, that is set
apart to God, and justified, that is just as if I had never
sinned.
I believe that Jesus Christ rose from the dead on the
third day and is seated now at the right hand of God. I
turn to You, Lord Jesus. I turn away from the power of
darkness to the power of light, from the
 power of Satan to the power of God, and I ask You, Lord
Jesus, to come into my life by Your Holy Spirit. I surrender
absolutely to You and I confess You as my Lord and my
Saviour.
As you complete this prayer, you may well feel the peace of
God descending upon you. It is good to stand to your feet and
begin to thank God and praise Him for His goodness. You will
start to realise the certainty of salvation in your heart and the fact
that God has forgiven you and reconciled you to Himself through
Jesus Christ. The joy of God will begin to flood your heart.

7. WHAT SHOULD I DO NEXT?

On the day of Pentecost when Peter was preaching to the Jews

and they were convicted in their hearts of their sins, they asked
Peter and the rest of the Apostles, "Men and brethren, what shall
we do?" (Acts 2:37)
The response of Peter was:
"Repent, and let every one of you be baptised in the name of
Jesus Christ for the remission of sins; and you shall receive the
gift of the Holy Spirit." (Acts 2:38) You have now repented
and now you need to be baptised in water if this has not
happened to you before.

(a) WATER BAPTISM

Jesus Christ gave us the example of the need for water baptism
as He Himself went under the waters of baptism. Even though
John the Baptist argued with Jesus when Jesus asked John to
baptise Him and said:
"I have need to be baptised by You, and are You
coming to me?" (Matthew 3:14)
 The response of Jesus was:
"Permit it to be so now, for thus it is fitting for us to fulfil all
righteousness."
(Matthew 3:15)

Thus Jesus Christ gave us the example of the need for water
baptism. When we undergo the waters of baptism, we fulfil
what should have already been accomplished in our heart.
Water baptism is the outward manifestation of the transaction
which has taken place in our hearts as we have given our lives
to Jesus Christ. In undergoing water baptism we identify with
Jesus Christ in His death and resurrection. As we undergo the
waters of baptism, we recognise that our old lives have died and
we are rising to a new life in Jesus Christ and that we are no
longer the slaves of sin.
"Or do you not know that as many of us as were
baptised into Christ Jesus were baptised into His death?

Therefore we were buried with Him through baptism into

death, that just as Christ was raised from the dead by the
glory of the Father, even so we also should walk in
newness of life.
For if we have been united together in the likeness of
His death, certainly we also shall be in the likeness of His
resurrection,
knowing this, that our old man was crucified with Him,
that the body of sin might be done away with, that we
should no longer be slaves of sin."
(Romans 6:3-6)
 Most cultures recognise the power of water baptism in one
form or another. They recognise that it is a cutting off from the
old life. For example, in India where I have seen many come
forward to make a decision for Jesus Christ, there is often no real
difficulty in their home life until they undergo the waters of
baptism. It is then that the real cutting off point occurs because
their Hindu brothers and sisters recognise that this is a complete
cutting off from the old life. Many times they disown the
relatives who undergo water baptism. They may even throw them
out of their homes. Thus there is a real price to pay to be a
Christian in that land.
Water baptism is an act of obedience towards God. It is
good for it to be carried out publicly before other believers with
the candidate testifying about God's life-changing power in his or
her life.

Church Attendance

It is important that we belong to a church that worships

Jesus Christ and believes in the whole Bible. It is recommended
that if you do not already belong to a Christian church, that you
join a Bible-believing church so that you can grow as a member
of the body of Christ.
(b) BAPTISM WITH THE HOLY SPIRIT

Jesus Christ told His disciples to tarry in Jerusalem until they

received the promise of the Father. He had already breathed on
them on the Sunday night of His resurrection when they received
the Holy Spirit. (John 20:22) Now He was telling them to wait
for the promise of the Father so that they could be endued with
power from on high. (Luke 24:49) We see those same commands
set out in Acts chapter 1:4-8 when He promised that they would
receive power when the Holy Spirit came upon them.
 "But you shall receive power when the Holy Spirit has
come upon you; and you shall be witnesses to Me in
Jerusalem, and in all Judea and Samaria, and to the end of
the earth."
(Acts 1: 8 )
They duly waited a further ten days after Jesus ascended into
heaven and then on the day of Pentecost the power of the Holy
Spirit fell upon them and they spoke in tongues. Peter explained
that Jesus Christ, being exalted to the right hand of God, and
having received from the Father the promise of the Holy Spirit,
had poured out this which they now saw and heard. (Acts 2:33).

How to ask for the Baptism with the Holy Spirit

1. Go on your knees before the Lord and confess all your sins and
receive God's forgiveness.
2. Acknowledge Jesus Christ as Lord and Saviour.

3. Allow the Holy Spirit to remind you of any areas of occult

involvement on your part or on the part of your parents or
ancestors. Renounce that involvement in the name of Jesus
Christ.
4. Believe in your heart that the Word of God is absolutely true
and that God, through Jesus Christ, will give this great
blessing to you as you believe.
5. Say a simple prayer like this:
Dear Heavenly Father, in the name of Jesus Christ,
I renounce all my sins (name those sins) and I especially
renounce all involvement in the occult or witchcraft on
my own part or part of my parents or my ancestors. I
renounce all fear and unbelief and any blockage of my
mind. I ask You Lord Jesus to baptise me with the Holy
Spirit.
How to Receive

You may be standing or kneeling. It is good to close our eyes

and think of Jesus seated at the right hand of God, ready to pour
out the promise of the Father upon us. As we quietly wait upon
Him and allow Him to do this, we begin to sens the peace of
God. We should not listen to what we are saying, but let God
give us a new language. Then we will find that from our
innermost being will flow a river of living water of words as the
Holy Spirit helps us.

"but whoever drinks of the water that I shall give him

will never thirst. But the water that I shall give him will
become in him a fountain of water springing up into
everlasting life."
(John 4:14)

While we are kneeling and praying to God through Jesus

Christ, we should realise that the Holy Spirit, deep within our
heart, will rise up as we allow Him to do so. He will come like a
river onto our tongue and help us to speak out in our new
language.