"Now," David Whispered, "Raise Your Arms."

Dear Saints,

    The first time I ministered alongside David Samuel, the power of God in him blew me out of my socks.

    We were in far eastern Asia, winding up three days of teaching.  The believers there, embracing both us and our message with gales of over-flowing joy, were laying hands on the sick, and God was healing people.  Regardless of their religious background -- all were being healed, and many were coming to faith.  I was teaching.  David’s wife, Victoria, was translating.  David, always the organizer, was quietly attending to details, conducting every facet of activity without ever taking center stage himself.

    “Please, sir!”  A slight young man pulled at David’s arm.  “Please, sir!  Come with me!”  For a few moments, David tried to explain that he was, in fact, leading the service.  “Please, sir!” the young man insisted.  “God is healing people, and my mother is too sick to come.  She is in the next block.  Please, sir!  The service is almost over.  You can come now!”  The young man was correct.  David picked up his satchel, advised me of his departure, and they left.

    In a dark room, the young man’s mother was battling the final stages of lung cancer.  Her lungs were so full of disease that she could no longer lift her arms.  Her skin was gray, her shallow panting drawn through parched lips.  David sat on the floor next to the reed mat which was her bed.  “Auntie,” he said, using a common term of respect.  “I have come to talk with you.”  Very softly, they conversed.  Very quietly, David led her in a prayer of faith.  Talk continued softly.  Pray.  Talk softly.  Pray.  The woman was slowly caught up beyond her pain, enthralled by the love of Christ and the hope of which David spoke.  After perhaps 90 minutes, David looked deep into her eyes.  “Now,” he whispered.  “lift your arms.”

    The cancer was gone.  Totally.  Completely.  Absolutely.

    Before we left their home town, the whole family came to church.  The woman walked slowly but steadily, arm and arm with her jubilant son.  She had no pain, no trouble breathing, no evidence of illness. 

    The second most stunning thing about David came to light as Beth Baldwin, Deb Mauterer and I visited their home just last March.  Entering their small apartment in the capital city shocked me.  Their apartment is small and almost bare.  In their bedroom, there’s no furniture at all.  No bed.  No dresser.  No chairs.  No mirrors or accessories.  David and Victoria sleep on covers spread on a concrete floor.  Clothes are stacked neatly on the floor against a wall.  David, once a trusted buyer for a wealthy merchant, still works as much as his ministry calendar allows.  But ALL they have goes into ministry.

    David and Victoria will travel with me for five weeks this Nov. 13 to Dec. 17, and have already worked for months organizing every aspect of our upcoming journey.  As I go, I want to bless them profoundly.  A portion of whatever you send for this trip will go to that purpose.  Thank you for blessing Debbie and me.  Thank you for responding to the Holy Spirit’s prompting.  Thank you.  Thank you.  Thank you for making our ministry possible.