Christian Prayers Bring Miracle Healing

By Virginia Baker, Warrior, Alabama

As appeared in

My room at University Hospital in Birmingham, Alabama, was crowded. I gazed at the faces of our pastor, William Cox, and deacons from our church, including my husband, Brooks, gathered around my bed.

For more than a year I had been fighting a losing battle against a strange liver ailment, recently lingering in a hepatic coma for three days before coming around. It seemed I had been on the critical list more often than not. But that day I felt relatively good, if weak, and my mind, thankfully, was clear. I caught Brooks's eye and he smiled reassuringly.

Brooks and I attend First Baptist Church in Warrior, our hometown, where I am a music teacher. All in all we're a pretty mainstream congregation, and though we certainly believe in prayers for healing, we had never gone in for laying on of hands or anointing with oil. We left that to other churches. But since I had come out of my coma a verse from the Book of James kept storming into my head: "Is any sick among you? Let him call for the elders of the church; and let them pray over him, anointing him with oil in the name of the Lord."

I had begun having trouble in 1984 and a year later was diagnosed with a rare autoimmune disorder that caused my body to attack its own liver cells. In a terrible way the biological process that was supposed to keep me well was making me sick, deathly sick. By 1986 doctors had all but given up on saving my liver. I had been put at the top of a transplant list at the University of Pittsburgh Medical Center—a pioneer hospital in liver transplants—but no one was sure if a new liver would reverse the disease.

I had heard so many medical opinions that I chose to keep one in the front of my mind at all times, something internist Dr. Roy Roddam had told me: "Never forget, Virginia, that God is bigger than any disease." You know your condition is serious when your doctor starts reminding you to pray.

My hospital stays had become more frequent and complicated. I suffered weight loss, headaches, extreme fatigue, confusion, jaundice and, especially dangerous, bleeding in my esophagus that sometimes wouldn't stop. My liver functions were deteriorating rapidly. During those three days when I was in a coma, Brooks had stayed by my bedside reading psalms to me, and our church kept up an unceasing prayer vigil. I came out of it, but in the absence of a miracle I was probably going to die, sooner rather than later, leaving Brooks to raise our three young children without their mother.

With the verse from James echoing in my mind, I had Brooks ask Pastor Cox if he would be willing to try something different—laying on hands and anointing with oil. "Tell Virginia I don't see why not," he had sent word back, "especially since it's scriptural." And that was why they were gathered in my hospital room on a cloudy fall day in 1986.

I looked at the wreath of faces above me—neighbors, friends, pastor, husband. There was a physical sensation of love pouring from them as they leaned over me—warm, comforting, serene. They had prepared themselves through prayer and fasting, as the Bible instructs. Pastor Cox stood at the head of the bed, Brooks at my right, the others completing the circle. The pastor read aloud. Gently, he anointed my forehead with oil.

They laid hands on me, tentatively at first. I felt the slight press of fingers and a rippling warmth. I can't say I experienced anything out of the ordinary, save for a subtle yet pervasive sensation of peace that trickled through my entire being. They finished quickly, since I could not have visitors for long. Holding Brooks's hand, I fell into a long, deep sleep.