Picture of the Promise

I saw a picture last Sunday morning that has stuck with me; I know that it is something God specifically showed me and later on I got more detail concerning what I was supposed to do in response to what I saw. Before I describe what I saw, I need to explain where it came from.

A few weeks ago, my family drove up to Oregon for an appointment at Shriners, in order to get a refill for a prescription. It took a while to get that started, but as all of that was happening, a doctor met with us and talked with us and asked us question — the usual thing that happens. Using an app on her phone, she then explained the “problem” researchers and doctors attributed as the cause of the illness I and others have been diagnosed with.

She explained that, essentially, there is a numbered sequence “missing” from a gene that has to do with muscle production (something to do with muscles, not sure what word she used). Researchers are trying to determine how to “fill the gap” without causing damage to other parts of the gene.

In addition to explaining that, which was interesting (I dismissed it without thinking about it) her later questions involved various conditions most people who have a similar diagnosis often deal with (again I mostly smiled and nodded and ignored them all).

But later on, when she quietly recommended reaching out and talking to other men my age dealing with illness if I ever dealt with any sadness or depression regarding anything, I felt something. It’s a little difficult to explain but I felt another Voice chuckle quietly in my spirit. “You don’t have to worry about that.” I absolutely agreed.

Later, I recognized that I had (and still am!) been free of extra pain and frustration from other problems, including cataracts, trouble sleeping, even heart concerns. All things I have never encountered, or worried about, and never have to. These are things many others with the same illness deal with and are forced to seek treatment for, from childhood. I had never heard about them until a few weeks ago — at 20. That was a special and very cool moment for me.

Anyway, we went home and the week went along as normally and happily as they do. Sunday morning, during worship, I was reminded of that silly little app the doctor had used to explain the “problem” in my genes. I suddenly imagined the little numbered boxes and the erased boxes that caused everything to work incorrectly. But in that gap, I saw the Cross “grow” from one end of the gap to the other, pushing the numbered “gene boxes” back into the correct order. And it stayed there. Problem solved, perfect symmetry, everything exactly as it is in Heaven.

I thought that was really cool, told my parents and took a picture of a quick sketch I made of the image. That was the end of it until later than night, when my Dad asked me what I thought about it — I realized I hadn’t and was suddenly overcome with tears, unable to speak. I wasn’t sad, but decided I was overwhelmed by whatever the picture meant. I went to bed and asked the Lord to show me and tell me more.

That night, He told me to hold tight to that image; I had received many wonderful pictures and prophecies and even poems from others who God spoke through regarding my healing, and that is all really amazing. But this picture was special, because it was mine. He began to help me imagine all the doctors and people who will be completely changed and stunned by my healing — the world around me will never be the same.

That overwhelming, unimaginable, amazing reality is what caused the emotional response I was unable to explain. I went to bed feeling pretty giddy, thinking about all of that. To be honest, I still filed away that experience as something I would remember, but I don’t as often as I (happily) should. That isn’t a shameful statement, I should absolutely fix myself on that image whenever I can. The Picture of the Promise of healing, the Promise God made and the promise He has kept, is keeping, and will keep.

I wanted to share this as a testimony, to look back on when that Picture becomes reality, and I have to try my best to explain to baffled doctors what on earth actually happened.

(Not the best picture, and there are some extra scribbles, but the top image is what I sketched that Sunday morning)