By Debora Coty
I get God-bumps when my friend Rachael tells about the miracle in her son Javin’s life.
Thirteen years ago, Javin was born deaf.
Rachael, a single mom, first noticed something was wrong with her baby when he was an infant. Medical and hearing tests by specialists confirmed that Javin had no hearing in either ear. Zero. The results were well documented: profound hearing loss.
After many hot tears, Rachael finally accepted her son’s handicap, took a shaky breath and began learning to use sign language. The wee fella picked it up quickly and by the time he was nine-months-old, was fluent in over 100 signs. He was a happy little guy and functioned well. Rachael began looking at special schools and programs for the deaf.
Then something incredible happened.
The day before Javin was scheduled with an audiologist to see if he was a candidate for a cochlear implant, Rachael felt compelled to ask her pastor to pray for Javin.
This was a mainline denomination; mind you, and a regular, run-of-the-mill Sunday morning church service. No special “healer” was present, nor did anyone shout, chant, lay hands on Javin or do anything out of the ordinary. The pastor simply called Rachael up front with her baby, briefly petitioned the Lord’s mercy, and asked everyone to remember them and tomorrow’s appointment in prayer. Heads nodded all around.
Believers agreed to join in prayer; no doubt many expecting nothing. Some were hopeful but unconvinced, but a few diehards were confident that prayer is the nerve that moves the hand of God. “For where two or three are gathered together in My name, I am there in the midst of them” (Matthew 18:20 NKJV).
“Lord, please help Javin.” Short, simple, and to the point. Just like you and I have prayed for people a hundred times in our own churches and Bible studies.
The next day, after repeating tests for hours, the stunned audiologist pronounced, “His hearing is perfect.”
Rachael wept tears of joy. And thirteen years later, her boy still hears the cry of a hawk, the crack of a baseball bat, and the sweet sound of his mother humming in the kitchen. I call that a major grace note.
So, my praying friend, what gives you God-bumps?
