Welcome to MyStory!

In 1989, I became very ill. In August 1999, I mistakenly thought God had healed me and I wrote about my believed recovery. In September of 1999, I wrote about my relapse. In August 2006, as part of a general much needed face-lift for AllFaith.com I began consolidating my writings on this subject into a single, more coherent, piece. For the most part, I have not changed the content of any of these pages, other than a few spelling and grammar corrections. Much of what is presented in this updated piece therefore does not represent my current beliefs. This page has become a sort of ongoing health diary. For what I now believe, you may wish to read this piece

The Illness, 1989

I moved to Berkeley, California in 1982 and a year later met and fell in love with the mother of my son. Before getting married, we received word that she had become pregnant. I was ecstatic! I was going to be a father! She however said a child would interfere with her life plans and schooling, and so despite everything I could do or say, our child was killed and I fled in anguish, returning to Atlanta. There I connected with a group protesting the building of the Jimmy Carter Presidential Parkway known as the Roadbusters. That proposed parkway threatened to destroy much of what made the area so unique. The effort to stop the road was limitedly successful. This was 1984, an Orwellian nightmare year for me!

A few months later, I returned to the People's Republic of Berkeley. I felt I needed to speak with her. A nasty gash cut my soul in two and I needed desperately closure. The death of my son, I knew he was a boy, continued to agonize my soul. He would be 22 years old today had he not been killed. I was still having my recurring Shoah dream every few weeks, but now I also had visions of a baby being torn to bits by drooling white coated doctors as contorted women look on and laughed maniacally. I intended to speak with her and allow our relationship to close on better terms. As we talked, I discovered that she too was having nightmares. In hers, a baby had somehow been placed in the back of a VW bug (her car) and as the engine started the baby was ripped to shreds as she screamed to let it out. As we talked, we decided to get back together, and in 1988, our son was born. Infanticide is a great evil that no truly civilized nation would allow. It killed my son, as millions others, and despite our getting back together, our relationship was never the same.

Around this same time, early 1985, I enrolled in college while doing odd jobs, hauling etc. to make ends meet while attending classes at Laney, New College, and then John F. Kennedy University.

One day, I visited Shree Maa & Swami Satyananda Saraswati of the Devi Mandir. Theirs is a wonderful Hindu Chandi mandir in Martinez Ca. (they are now located in Napa). As I walked into the temple room, Swamiji was giving a talk about Vedic palmistry. He asked for volunteers. As usual, I was ready for any contact with spiritual masters, and so quickly offered my hand.

He hesitated, something he seldom does, then asked if I had been seriously ill recently. No, I replied. I'm healthy as a sacred cow... a little joke. He was serious however. "You are soon going to be struck down with a horrible illness." Will I recover? "Not completely, no..."

I left the mandir after puja. I knew the Swami was the real thing, but I also knew that a hand greater than his guided my life, so I let the warning slip from my mind. I was certain that God would never allow that to happen to me.

Then 0ne morning in 1989, about three months later, the alarm clock sounded and I hopped out of our waterbed and onto my feet ready for another day, with the worst pain I had ever before experienced. I collapsed to the floor screaming in agony. My wife hurried into the bedroom and cried out when she saw me. My ankles were the size of grapefruits! The muscles in my legs were tensed and hard as stone pillars, yet visibly pulsing! I was in a daze as she helped me into the living room to the couch.

We visited countless doctors, healers, aura cleaners, homoeopathists, acupuncturists, Chinese medical doctors, you name it. The good news, Kaiser Permanente told us, is that there is nothing wrong with you! The bad news is that there is nothing wrong with you! It's in your head!

But of course it wasn't. After depleting our meager bank account and going deeper and deeper into debt, we were at our wit's end! Then one evening my mother-in-law called. She had seen an article in the paper about a little understood "new illness." Three foggy days later, the article arrived in the mail. I asked my Kaiser doctor about it, he told me that Chronic Fatigue Syndrome was what talk radio shyster Doctor Dean Edel had dubbed "the Yuppie Flu." This isn't it, my doctor assured me. Only hysterical Yuppie women get that!

After some pressure from my lawyer brother-in-law, Kaiser finally agreed to send us to UC San Francisco Medical Center. There, sitting in wheel chair because I could not walk, the article in my hands waiting for the doctor, I got a real shock. He walked into the room smiling and announced, I have some good news and some bad news -- what is with that stupid expressed! I remember grumbling -- The good news is I know what's wrong with you. The bad news is that there is no known cure or any universal treatment for it. He hadn't seen the article in my hand, but his conclusion was the same. He called it "Chronic Fatigue and Immune Dysfunction Syndrome," CFIDS. the illness is known in most of the world as Myalgic Encephalomyelitis or ME. I also have a related condition, Fibromyalgia (FMS).

Because I knew more about the world's religions than my teachers, I'm not bragging here, its simply a fact, I managed to complete my studies and receive my MA in Religious Studies despite the illness that hit me with a year of college left. My Master's thesis was a full translation and commentary of the Srimad Bhagavad Gita. I had previously been accepted by the San Francisco Institute of Integral Studies for my postgraduate work, but because of the illness, I had to cancel that.

I had been sick for a little over three years. It took one year to get a diagnosis (for some reason having a name for this monster helped!) and then in the autumn of 1992, shortly after graduation, my wife told me that a disabled husband was not part of her life plan, and that I should leave. Our bankruptcy had freed us of my medical and our other bills, and she wanted to start a new life without me.

I was now on Social Security Disability so I wasn't a complete pauper, but I was close. I was too sick to look for a place I could afford, so at first I lived in the back of my car in a nearby warehouse district. My body was racked with constant, roving pain, I threw up daily, had irritable bowel syndrome, was painfully sensitive to light, my lungs were problematic.... I had lost my son... life had become unbearable for me. It is said in the Bible that God will not allow us to suffer more than we can bear... I was close!

Unbeknownst to my ex-wife or anyone else, I purchased a .38 handgun at an Old West gun shop in El Cerrito. In my 1969 vision, God had given me the choice to stay here or "go Home" to be with Him. At that time, I chose to stay. So many of the events in my life I had seen in the vision, including my wife... but this I had not seen! I saw nothing about an illness destroying my health and leaving me a useless cripple or worse... I was, you might say, on a massive poor-me trip! No, I had made up my mind. I was going Home now!

So there in my car I sat. I read a few excerpts from the Bible. I chanted five round of japa mala (Hindu prayer beads). I read from the Bhagavad Gita and the Tao Te Ching. Then I pulled out the gun and touched it to my lips. I remember the taste, gun oil, nasty! I wiped down the barrel, placed the gun in my mouth, and pulled the trigger... and click. It didn't fire

All alone in the back seat of my junky car I laid, shaking like a leaf. Part of me didn't think I'd have the nerve to pull the trigger, but I did. After a few minutes, I checked to make sure there were bullets, and there were, placed the barrel in my mouth a second time, pulled the trigger... and nothing.

Somehow I knew that if I tried it again, the gun would go off. I also knew however that I was not going to try it again. I had received God's answer. I opened the door, pointed the gun to the ground, pulled the trigger, and it discharged. I then started the engine and quickly drove away before the police could show up!

No one knew of these events at that time, but two days later I went to pick up my son and take him to a nearby park to play for the afternoon. When I dropped him back off, my father-in-law was there waiting for me. He was a very wealthy man who worked for the US Army. He heard of our break up and was upset that his daughter would abandon her husband in such a way. I was in no place to refuse his kind offer to buy me motor home to live in. I parked it in a nearby trailer park. A few months went by, and I wasn't getting any better. If anything, I was going back down hill again! I had assumed I would eventually recover form this illness, but I was now coming to expect the worse.

I went to India in part to find an Ayurvedic doctor. I found one, but the illness remained and I returned to the San Francisco Bay Area. Due to a deceitful 'friend', I lost the motor home and moved to Santa Cruz, California. There I returned to my Christian roots and eventually believed I had been healed of the illness. More about this period of my life can be found elsewhere on this MyStory site.

Following is a piece I wrote during the period when I believe God had healed my CFIDS/FMS.

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August, 1999:

I was raised in a fundamentalist Missionary Baptist family in North Georgia. The fiery sermons of our pastor, the Reverend Hoyt Thomas, had a profound impact on my life. I've discussed the visit of the three "angels" to our small church, Harrell Grove Baptist Church, elsewhere. In order to appreciate my spiritual development and inclusive beliefs it will be helpful to refer to this and similar accounts.

As I recount there, I left my Christian background at the age of twelve and for the next few years devoted myself to seeking for God in other religious traditions and within my own heart through extended isolated periods.

In the Spring of 1976 I left the Jehovah's Witness sect (which I had been involved with for about a year and left after their prophecy of the 1975 beginning of the War of Armageddon proved false) and was led by God to Rehoboth Baptist Church in Tucker Georgia. As a recently ex-Witness, I was again confronted by my innate need for spiritual communion but did not know where to turn. I had been praying for direction in this when God answered.

I had at the time taken a graveyard shift position at a Hess gas station in Tucker Georgia. The hours were ideal as they gave me a modest income plus ample opportunity to read and pray.

Around three A.M. one Spring morning in 1976 a woman sped into the station. She pulled her car over to the side of the station and got out. My impression was that she seemed very angry about something. I smiled politely as she approached. Her hair was unkempt and she wore bright blue bathrobe over a wrinkled moo-moo.

"Young man," she demanded accusingly, "Why am I here?"

I looked at her puzzled. I had no idea why she there! "To buy gas?" I offered.

"No, I mean, why has my sweet Lord Jesus awakened me at this hour, telling me to come to this gas station? I don't need any gas!"

Now working the graveyard shift one is bound to meet the occasional loony, but this woman seemed to be over the top!

"Well," she hemmed, looking within herself for an answer, "Are you a Christian?"

"I'm one of Jehovah's Christian Witnesses, ma'am!" I replied, not entirely truthfully. While I had not yet notified the Kingdom Hall I was leaving, in my heart I knew I could no longer accept their teachings. There was a lot about the Witnesses I admired, their devotion to their faith and to one another etc. I will always be grateful to them for teaching me to read. Although I hadn't been actually illiterate, I was functionally so, until they taught me the importance of reading. It had nonetheless become clear to me that I could not remain with them much longer without compromising what I inwardly knew of God's love.

"Oh, so that's it, well, sit down over here. There's something you need to know!"

With that, she began to share with me the Gospel of Jesus Christ, which of course I had known from infancy. I explained that I could no longer be a Christian, as she understood the term, because of the hypocrisy and judgmentalism associated with that Faith.

To my surprise, she agreed with me! She told me that there were nonetheless Christians who sincerely worshiped God "in spirit and in truth." She directed me to Rehoboth Baptist Church, which was just up the road. She said that while Rehoboth, like practically all other congregations, had problems in these areas as well, there was a group there known as the Fishers of Men whom I should meet. These people, she said, lived the Faith. The Fishers of Men were a group of street ministers that were actually living their lives for Jesus.

I visited Rehoboth, became associated with the Fishers of Men, and rededicated my life to Jesus. It was wonderful to meet people who actually lived the New Testament as best they could!

In a few months the evangelist Arthur Blessitt came to Rehoboth and we, the Fishers of Men, did street ministry with him in Downtown Atlanta. During this time we planted a street mission called "His Place in Atlanta" (named after Arthur's renowned "His Place on the Sunset Strip"). Later a few of us, including Evangelist Bill James of World Evangelism Foundation, met up with Arthur again in Honduras and I was able to work with him a bit there as well. I have nothing but the deepest respect for Arthur, his wife and their global ministry of love.

I had found what I'd been looking for! These sincere Christians lived their faith in love and peace on a daily basis. I was in "Preacher Boy Heaven!"

After a few trips to Honduras and Guatemala I, inspired by Arthur, carried a 12x6 foot wooden cross on my back from Atlanta to San Antonio Texas, preaching the Gospel of Peace everywhere I went. In San Antonio, I was ordained into the Gospel Ministry by Calvary Chapel.

What's this got to do with my healing? I'm just setting up the scene for you...

Due to various situations which I will write about elsewhere, around 1980 I again left Christianity and devoted myself to the study of Buddhism, Hinduism, Paganism, and other traditions. In time, I received an MA in Religious Studies from John F. Kennedy University. Throughout this period, I was determined to find God and I spent the vast majority of my time seeking for truth and "going with the flow."

My sojournering lead me to Berkeley California where I met and later married my son's mother. She was a very caring person but lacked a spiritual foundation. Blinded by love, I failed to acknowledge this to myself. My quest for God was always problematic for our relationship, but we made do. All in all, we were very happy people. She did her thing, psychology, and I did mine, God.

While at JFK University I began a hauling and light gardening business known as Mostly Hauling: "Tell your leaves to leave, tell your junk to flee, call Mostly Hauling, reasonable fees!" The business wasn't overly successful, but it made enough to get by, and that was enough.

Around 1985 I developed an annoying limp in my left leg. It wasn't bad, but it was mildly uncomfortable and, in time, it made it impossible to continue the hauling business. As a result, I took a position in San Francisco as a tour driver. I drove a 30 foot motorized cable car around the City by the Bay showing tourist the sights by day and attending university by night. The limp didn't go away, but it didn't get much worse for a while either.

One morning in 1989, a year or so after the birth of my son, I awoke in the worst pain I had ever experienced in my life. Pulling myself out of our waterbed, I dropped my feet to the floor and stood up - but only for a moment!

White-hot pain shot up my legs, my ankles exploded in excruciating, stabbing pain, and I collapsed to the floor screaming and crying uncontrollably.

My wife rushed down the hall and into our bedroom to see what was the matter. I crawled into the living room and she helped me to the couch. As she pulled my legs up onto the sofa, I saw my ankles. They had swollen up during the night to the size of large cantaloupes! I cried and screamed, begging God to take the pain away. I cannot express in words the pain, the horror and the shock I felt looking at my ankles! It was unreal!

My wife pointed to my right arm. The muscles were visibly throbbing! My entire body felt as if it were about to explode! Pulsing, throbbing, burning...

As the weeks and months merged into the oblivion of my disability I was unable to walk more than a few steps at a time. Days, nights, weeks and months became meaningless concepts to my unending hell on earth. My memory was so seriously impacted that at times I could not remember my wife's name or even her face on a few occasions. I routinely slept non-stop for two to five days as if comatose. I was always extremely fatigued. Staying awake for more than a few hours at a time was more than I could bear (later, as the illness developed, I had the exact opposite experience. I'd be sleep deprived for days on end!). I became so light sensitive that I had to remain indoors with the blinds drawn during even winter days. I often wore two pairs of sunglasses even indoors due to the excruciated burning sensation caused by the slightest amount of light. Even overhead lights and lamps were nearly intolerable to me. On three or four occasions, I became completely blind for hours to an entire day on one occasion.

One morning during this unceasing hell that was my life I woke up seemingly on fire! The best way I have found to describe the sensation is that it's like having thousands of angry fire ants crawling upside down under my skin. A rolling, stinging crawling agony covered my entire body. My mid-section burned down to my lower thighs. As I awoke, I frantically threw off my clothing, beating my skin to no avail. My wife grabbed the wheel chair and helped me into an ice cold bath. That soothed the burning temporarily, but it made my muscles explode with cold-contractions as though they were literally shrinking into nothingness. This fire ant/crawling/burning sensation under my skin became one of the frequent and most unpleasant features of the inexplicable roving sensations that I was forced to live with. It was as though my body had been invaded by a hoard of tiny demons, an idea I flatly rejected then and now by the way, who would attack some area, then, just when I could bear no more, would move along to attack some other area. My life had become a roller coaster ride of torment.

We visited doctor after doctor who did test after test. Our meager savings were quickly absorbed and we began borrowing from friends and family. Always the diagnosis was the same: there was nothing wrong with me! All tests came back negative! The MRI scans showed "white lines" on some area of my brain, which they could not explain. Nothing came of these tests that gave us any hope (these "lines," like the "dots" found on people with MS, have since been found to be present on many people with this disease, but nothing has come of this research thus far).

Meanwhile my body would be wracked with unexpected spasms, stabbing sensations would accost me without seeming cause or direction. My head pounded mercilessly, my mouth was bitterly dry; "things" hurt in my body where there were no "things" to hurt! I began to feel like little Reagan in the Exorcist movies! My body would be burning one moment and freezing the next. One moment everything was relatively fine, the next I was curled up on the floor in fetal position crying in excruciating agony with no relief in sight!

My wife's mother at one point found an article in a health magazine which seemed to fit my symptoms and she sent it to us. Reading the piece I knew we had found the answer. It didn't sound as severe as what I was experiencing, but the majority of the symptoms were there to some degree.

We spoke with my doctors at Kaiser about the article and were told that the illness it spoke of did not exist as a "real" disease. According to my doctor, the illness was simply a groundless justification used by "hysterical women" who secretly wanted to stay at home rather than work! After all, he said, the alleged illness primarily hits white professional women aged 25-45, didn't that prove it was nothing but hysteria?

Nonplused, we asked to be referred out of Kaiser to the UC San Francisco Med Center where we had learned research was being conducted into the new illness. Kaiser refused, saying that while it was obvious that something was indeed wrong with me, they had not yet run out of tests and options. "Come back in a month if you're still sick and we'll try something else!" We threatened legal action, had an attorney contact Kaiser officials and they agreed, reluctantly, to refer me out.

The doctor at UC San Francisco Med Center walked into the exam room at our first meeting, my chart in hand, and announced that he knew what was wrong with me. I had the illness discussed in the article, Chronic Fatigue Syndrome (now known as Chronic Fatigue and Immune Dysfunction Syndrome and Myalgic encephalomyalitis) complicated by Fibromyalgia Syndrome and a host of other tag-on illnesses and conditions such as sleep apnea and acid reflux syndrome, irritable bowl syndrome etc.. The good news was that now I had a name for what was wrong with me. The bad news was that there was and is no known cure or universal treatment. Some people seem to more or less recover while others remain very ill for the remainder of their lives. This was an odd statement because the illness hadn't been around that long, so how could they know this? The illness has existed historically and outbreaks have occurred several times, was the doctor's response. The current outbreak seems to have begun in the early eighties at Nevada's Incline Village.

I spent the first three years of the illness in bed, violently ill. In the first six weeks, my weight shot from 175 lbs. of lean muscle to 300 + pounds of fat. An amazing weight gain in so short a time everyone agreed, especially considering that I could hardly keep my food down!

For these three years my wife was a champ. She was there for me, totally devoted and supportive. At around the three-year mark, my health gradually and slightly improved. I was able to walk a few yards unaided. On good days, I could go out side a bit and it seemed that perhaps I would recover with time but at best, it would take years.

At this point I was shell-shocked when my "soul mate" informed me that she could no longer handle living with a disabled person! She intended to file for divorce and suggested I not contest it. To make a long story short, I ended up living in a Nissan Sentra station wagon in a nearby warehouse district. Later I got an RV, went to India, returned, and a man I had thought to be my best friend conspired with a drug dealer to con me out of the trailer. After a few weeks of this, I went to a gun store and purchased a 38 Smith and Wesson. That night I begged for God's forgiveness, loaded six bullets, put the barrel of the gun in my mouth, cocked, and pulled the trigger.

Nothing happened -- obviously!

Again I pulled the trigger -- nothing.

I pointed the gun at the ground, pulled the trigger, and it went off.

It seemed undeniable that death had been refused to me yet again by God's sovereign Will. A few weeks later I sold the gun back to the store, grudgingly accepting God's Will that I stay alive a while longer. But oh how I longed to go Home!

The next day I went to New Jagannatha Puri mandir (temple) in Berkeley and sat for a few hours before the murti (statue) of one of my spiritual masters, His Divine Grace A.C. Bhaktivedanta Swami Prabhupada (who had died a few years before this) asking for instruction.

The very next day, as I recall, a long overdue retroactive check from Social Security arrived for something like three thousand dollars. It seemed obvious what I had to do. I kissed my son goodbye and headed for India (well, it seemed obvious at the time!).

Part of my quest for God led me to the acquaintance of various Indian gurus and teachers. I purposed to go to the Indian village of Vrndavana and live there on the banks of the holy river Yamuna until death at last agreed to free me.

India was, well India. One writer has said that India is both the most blessed and most cursed land on earth. I tend to agree. I met many wonderful devotees in India. Being accepted by tantric acarya (guru), I moved into his small ashram. Everything seemed fine. The guru said I could stay and things were going as I had planned, except for the sovereign Will of God!

I was walking down a Vrndavana street one day, heading to the Banke-Bihari mandir, when a small group of locals approached me. One of them handed me a small piece of paper, a Gospel tract. On the front of it was printed the end of a cross beam with the hand of Jesus secured by a thick blood stained nail. Below was the caption: "Jesus loves you so much it hurts," written in English. I had given out thousands of the exact same tract over the years! One of the men said, in broken but understandable English: "Its time to come home." I got it. He didn't mean to go home to the US, but to go Home to Jesus: the timing and the place collided and I could not ignore it.

Through a series of God-directed events, I soon returned to the US and settled into the Central California Coastal town of Santa Cruz. After visiting various churches in the area, I finally joined the local MCC congregation, Lavender Road.

One thing which had driven me out of the Church again was the exclusionary way in which so many congregations and leaders treated gay and lesbian people. I was appalled to hear people like Pat Robertson, Beverly LaHey, Jerry Falwel and others condemn good people to eternal damnation simply because of whom they loved. Over the years, I had met many devout and sincere lesbian and gay Christians. I felt I could not in good conscience join a congregation where any group of people was not welcome. The conviction that God's love is available to everyone resulted in several years of my being a "gay Christian activist" and co-founder of Grace Inclusive Church. For information on this topic, please see my Grace Inclusive web site.

As the years past by I remained very ill, it was seldom possible for me to do more than attend the LRMCC services. In the summer, my hardest season with the illness, I was often too sick to attend, whereas in the winter I made most services in my three-wheeled electric scooter/wheelchair. Lavender Road MCC is a very liberal congregation. They offer practically no doctrine, no Bible study etc. Their motto is "What matters is not what you believe but how you treat people." True to this goal, they are a supportive group of down to earth people with very Humanist beliefs. For a while, they were what I needed as I struggled with my Christian past and pondered an evangelical future. It was at Lavender Road that I met Andrea.

Once a year I would join others from our congregation at the MCC Long Beach Charismatic Conference in Southern California. This is a wonderful annual event held by a fairly doctrinally solid and committed congregation of Believers. A large percentage of the attendees are gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender Christians. Every year the Spirit is so powerfully present at the conference that my spirit and faith were renewed and my walk with Christ strengthened. I know there are those who believe that God does not approve of gay Christians, but Jesus said, "By their fruit you can know them," and these people produce wonderful Christian fruit!

Each year the last night of the conference is a charismatic healing service. Every year I went down for prayers, believing in faith that this was the year God was going to heal my CFIDS/FMS. Every year I was blessed spiritually, yet remained unhealed. This was very difficult, as you can no doubt imagine! As much as I loved the conferences, I almost dreaded attending them for this reason.

I knew that according to the Bible Jesus promises healing to all who ask in faith and I knew that healings still happened today; I've seen so many miraculous healings over the years that I had no question about that. I'd seen them happening at this very conference! And yet for me, the healing waters always seemed to run dry.

In late January of 1999 I again attended the Long Beach MCC Charismatic Conference. I attended in my wheelchair, sicker this year than I had been for a while. My "fire ant skin" problems were worse, the fatigue was worse... I really doubted that I should have gone this year at all. I had missed the conference two years before when my health had been better than it was this year. Yet as we made plans for the trip, I knew I had to go and by faith, I believed I'd be healed this time.

During the conference my health continued to decline rapidly in the Southern California heat. I missed most of the workshops, considering myself fortunate to make most of the public meetings and worship services. The last night of the conference, the healing service, I rolled my wheel chair into the hall, this year at the Marriott-Airport Hotel. I settled myself in the rear of the common hall, sitting alone. I enjoyed the praise service; I sang haltingly along between coughs, headaches and muscle spasms. Yes, I decided, it had been a good conference, all things considered.

The speakers, the Reverend Elder Troy D. Perry and Reverend Elder Freda Smith came forward and spoke of God's desire to heal our physical and spiritual infirmities. I wanted to reach out by faith and affirm this to be God's desire for me. Instead, I must admit, I felt more like, "Yeah, been there done that..." A less than desirable mind set to be in during a faith healing service to be sure! I didn't care I just wanted to keep my dinner down! I felt horrible.

The healing service rolled on as usual. Finally on queue, along the front of the hall twenty or so people rose facing the auditorium, ready to offer up prayers for those in need. They were joined by two or three prayer partners and long lines quickly formed down the aisles as people waited their turn.

Most years I was one of the first people to line up, to show God I was sincere about being healed you understand! This year I remained where I was, watching everyone else line up and feeling utterly crappy. From time to time, the sound of shouting would fill the hall as someone confessed to being healed. As usual, there were several impressive healings wrought that night. From time to time, I'd look up, offer a prayer, then, zone back out into my private world of oblivion and pain. There was no way I was going up this year. Silently I confessed to God that I was just too tired to go up to the front. If God wanted to heal me, it could happen in the back of the hall as easily as it could up front. After all, it was God, not the people up front, who did the healings. With this, I was content.

"Your grace is sufficient for me" I prayed, "whether you heal me or not."

No sooner had I prayed this prayer, which, while prayed in sincerity was also a cop-out to justify my unwillingness to go forward again that year, the Holy Spirit seemed to impress upon my heart two clear commands. One, I was to gather my church group around me and two I was to go to Reverend Elder Freda Smith, who was praying for people on the far left side of the hall. In wordless correction, I informed God that our congregants were scattered all over the hall and that there was no way I could possibly round them all up and secondly, I was too weak to push my chair through the thick crowd. Maybe next year...

Then I looked up and saw that everyone from our local church who was present at the conference "just happened" to be standing around my chair. I glanced to my right and my pastor, Rev. Jean Hart, said, "You need to go up and be healed!"

"I know," I replied as she turned my chair into the lines and began pushing me forward. The line of people moved aside, like Jean was parting the sea or something. As she pushed me down the aisle, it seemed as though every head turned to me with expectation. I knew beyond any doubt that all these people knew, beyond any doubt, that they were about to witness an impressive healing. I mean, all along the aisle people stood speechless, waiting, clearing our path.

As we approached the front Freda, the Senior Pastor of MCC Sacramento, motioned for us to come on up. She looked at me and began asking Jesus for my healing. I was surrounded by the prayers of a lot of people. In my spirit, I felt that people all over the hall were praying and that the invisible cloud of surrounding saints were in agreement with them, the time for my healing had finally arrived. I had no doubts.

I stood up for a moment, then lowered myself back into the chair as pain shot up my legs and my skin burned as the army of fire ants intensified their demonic coup.

Freda was praying in tongues, as were so many others. At one point, it seemed to me, she fell back a bit, and was supported by someone behind her. Something had 'let go', I momentarily thought. A Word of Wisdom came to me saying that God had healed me and that I must return to the ministry with the message of God's inclusive love for everyone. I was to be in the ministry of breaking down the walls of division wherever I found them. I cried that I would gladly accept this charge, and then a wave of fatigue covered me and I practically melted back into my chair. My left leg began to throb and I felt worse than I had before we went forward.

As someone pushed my chair back up the aisle, I noted the look on the faces of those we passed. They were sorely disappointed. They had been so certain that a major miracle was in the making. They just knew I'd be leaving the wheel chair and dancing in the aisles! I hated to disappoint them, but what I hated even worse was being there. I wanted to get out of that hall, to go into hiding.

No healing, again.

The next morning I awoke, was helped into a car by Andrea and others, and we drove to Garden Grove for a pastor's conference at the Crystal Cathedral.

For economy sake, Andrea and I shared our room with our pastor and her partner. This conference flew by with very little awareness on my part. I mainly stayed in the hotel room stifled by the Southern California heat, the burning of my skin and the throbbing of my muscles. If anything, I was sinking faster than before. On one occasion, I actually picked up the phone to call 911 due to the intense pain, but hung up after the first one. I went to sleep instead.

Deeply immersed in the fibro fog, the otherworldly zone common to those with my illness, I somehow ended up back home in Santa Cruz and fell soundly and deeply asleep.

The next morning I awoke pain free! This may sound odd to you, but this was a very rare occurrence for me even on good days! That whole day I felt fairly good, also rare! I could walk around the house without trouble or pain.

The next day I awoke feeling even better. I went into the living room hopping up and down for joy, an impossibility before!

Within a week my light sensitivity was gone. I could walk blocks with little or no pain. My memory was much improved as well and by faith and experience, I began to believe God had healed me.

On July 1, 1999 God lead me to begin a new ministry, Grace Inclusive Church. As I discussed the new ministry with long time friend and ministry partner Rev Eden Jakejebarga-Bell, she felt led to join me and together with our partners, Laura and Andrea, we established the new congregation, Grace Inclusive Church. Our message: God's love and grace is for everyone, period. Like LRMCC, we were committed to sharing God's love and promoting social justice, however we sought to add a solid biblical foundation, something LRMCC did not wish to develop lest they alienate people. Grace Inclusive Church remains an inclusive, evangelical, charismatic Christian congregation led by Pastor Eden in Santa Cruz [2006: This congregation has now been closed].

As for walking, between Aug 16-21 I again walked several miles with Arthur Blessitt, whom God brought to San Francisco, I am convinced, in large part to minister to me.

Just as Arthur had been such a major blessing and point of direction in my early years and ministry, so too today, 22 years later, God used him to counsel and inspire me again. Arthur has walked more miles than any other human being has in history! He has carried a 12x6 ft. wooden cross on his back across every nation, continent and major island chain on earth, many several times. The chance of his coming to San Francisco at this particular time seemed nothing short of miraculous to me.

In late 1999 I began to carry a 12x6 foot redwood cross around the area as I had done years before, sharing God's inclusive love with everyone who had ears to hear. There were a series of tv and radio spots, write-ups in the papers and so on as I planed a walk from Santa Cruz to San Francisco to be called the Rainbow Cross Walk. God was blessing our efforts and we were all becoming excited about what God had in store for us.

Alas, in August of 2000 my remission, the longest I've had thus far, abruptly ended and the illness took a decided turn for the worse. I was again/still very ill and found it impossible to do much of anything. According to my doctor, I had simply "used up my reserves." I was in the wheelchair if not in bed most of the time and spiritually I was crushed. I had been so certain! I had dedicated myself to God, had put myself back into his service, and had seen several people come to faith in Jesus… then… wham! I'm not Job and this was too much, and soon got even worse…

In late December of 2000 my son, who had always been very healthy, suddenly suffered a series of unexplained seizures that lasted for several hours. It seemed as though once again my 'firm foundation' was crumbling; surely, God would not take my baby away from me! My heart broke as my very intelligent and articulate son could no longer speak but stared blankly forward in a daze. My ex wife called me seven hours or so after his initial seizure. Andrea and I rushed from Santa Cruz to Kaiser Oakland. As I walked into his hospital room, he looked up at me with glassy eyes and slurred the single word, "Dad!" I can't express the brokenness, sorrow and sense of utter helplessness I felt as I inwardly cried out to God for mercy and beheld the shell of my son. His mom said that was his first word in over eight hours! Largely in order to care for him, I resigned as co-pastor of Grace Inclusive Church and in January 2001, Andrea and I moved from lovely Santa Cruz to Vallejo California, where we live today (in June 2002). Thank God, his recovery was complete and today he shows no symptoms of the seizures, though he remains on medication for now.

So, where do I go from here? Wherever God leads me, I remain quite ill, having good days and bad. I don't know what the future holds.

---

November, 1999

It is with great sadness that I must tell you that despite what I previously believed, I have not been healed -- yet!

In 1989, I was broad-sided by a hellish illness known as Chronic Fatigue and Immune Dysfunction Syndrome/Fibromyalgia Syndrome. I've discussed this illness [above], so for now I'll just say that it devastated my life, plans and expectations for the future. During the past ten years, I have tried virtually everything you can imagine to gain freedom from this illness.

At the end of January 1999 (this year) I went to a charismatic healing service in Long Beach California. While there, I received prayers for healing and applied every ounce of faith that I could muster to receive this healing. I am not one of the "Name it and Claim it" ala Copeland people, however I have always believed that "faith in action" is more potent than "faith without works," to paraphrase scripture. Therefore, I actively received this healing and began to speak words of health both to myself and to others hoping to help actualize it.

As the weeks went by I entered into a state of remission with the illness. I have had occasional short-term remissions before, as have most people with this illness. These usually last a couple of days to a couple of weeks. But never before had I had a remission that lasted this long or was this complete. This is not to say that I was symptom free during this period; everyone who knows me knows better, and often told me so! I was however able to walk, was less fatigued, in much less physical pain, and my thoughts were much less muddled. It was exciting! I came to believe that after ten years God had finally answered my prayer.

Based on this conviction, Rev. Eden, Laura, Andrea and I founded Grace Inclusive Church. At this time, we intend to keep the church going; however, Pastor Eden will be taking on much more of the ministry responsibilities, as I am physically unable.

In August my friend the Evangelist Arthur Blessitt came to San Francisco for the first time in 20 years to carry his cross (Arthur has carried a 12x6 ft. wooden cross across every nation and continent on earth, it was his example that inspired me to do a similar walk in the late 70's). I was overjoyed to see him again and felt certain that it was God's timing for him to come so near to where I live. I walked with Arthur in San Francisco (though I had to cancel one walk and forego his Marin County walk due to health problems) and afterwards felt led to begin plans for my Rainbow Cross Walk (see my photo on the left).

Returning to Santa Cruz, we made the cross (thanks Cy!) and I carried it around town a few times. While my body was not happy with this, my health held and I began making plans for the Rainbow Cross Walk, from Santa Cruz to San Francisco. Several churches had joined in and I planned to speak at their services with the cross.

About this same time, I was invited to join an all expense paid short term missions trip to Buenos Aires, Argentina with Harvest Evangelism. It seemed positively miraculous timing and I took it as a sign of God's providence.

Once in Argentina, minor symptoms that had never left me began to flare up. By November 5th I was in a lot of pain as Fibromyalgia again racked my body. The CFIDS memory problems were also coming back, as were the fatigue, nausea, and other symptoms. The last couple of days I did as little as possible and looked forward to returning home. I was getting seriously concerned that I might collapse at any moment. Thankfully, I held together until I arrived home.

A few well meaning friends have suggested that I overdid it, that Argentina was too much too fast. It seems to me however that if by faith one accepts God's healing then that healing should be fully accepted, unless the Spirit says otherwise of course. I believed I had been healed. I accepted this in faith, and there was no way I was going to "make room for the enemy" so to speak by entertaining thoughts that the work was anything less than complete. Had I never become disabled the trip would not have been "too much" and so accepting God's complete healing it was inconceivable to me that I should limit that work by doubting God's efficacy. Perhaps this was/is naive, but this was/is my reasoning. Were I in the same situation again I would go to Argentina and do everything the exact same way.

Our group returned to the US on the 9th and by that time it was obvious that the "healing" had only been a remission. The illness had returned with a vengeance. Part of me wanted to hope that it was just the heightened activity level, jet lag, the food, etc. Unfortunately, this is clearly not the case. I remained very ill and therefore canceled the Rainbow Cross Walk and all other non-internet activities, except for our church as I have explained above.

Why does God heal some people and not others? Healings definitely happen. I've seen too many of them over the years to question this. Rev. Ed Silvoso of Harvest Evangelism gave the best answer I know of:

Once a famous faith healer was asked why it was that not everyone who attended his crusades was healed, although a great many were. He replied, "You know, I was wondering that too so I asked God about it, and God told me to mind my own business! It was my job to pray for healings and God's to decide who would receive them.

Maybe this is not so comforting for those of us yet to be healed, but I know for certain that one day my CFIDS/FMS will be healed, either here on this earth or in the hereafter. Of this, there is no doubt. While I wish God would heal me now, I am soooo very tired of being ill and of having my hopes dashed, I remain committed to the God of my salvation and will serve as I am able.

I would ask those of you who believe in the efficacy of prayer to pray for me: Due to what took place, as described above, there are those at Social Security who seem to believe that I am not really ill, that my illness is a sham and that I'm trying to get away with something. This seems amazing to me! My doctor knows and confirms that I am still sick and has given me his full support.

I never hid anything from anyone. I gave several media interviews, posted updates via e-mail, placed flyers all over Santa Cruz, and discussed everything openly on the Net and elsewhere. I had hoped that through the Rainbow Cross Walk I would be able to go into full time (i.e. paid) evangelism and leave SSDI. As the illness has returned with a vengeance however, this is obviously not possible. I again find that I cannot do anything with regularity or accountability due to the illness. I never know when I'll be stuck flat on my back in bed or hugging the toilet! I again require the use of a wheelchair to go more than a few yards, my skin is on fire with a burning sensation not unlike thousands of fire ants crawling about in my skin; I am, in short, a very sick puppy! Please pray that God will grant these Social Security people understanding of the roller coaster nature of my particular illness. It’s good for them to watch for scammers but not at the expense of those who are genuinely disabled. I simply don't have the energy to fight for my benefits again and without them, I'll be in a serious mess. I saw my doctor yesterday and he said, "...you just burnt up your reserves..." I need SSDI to understand this.

Updates

July 1, 2000:

As of now, I still remain quite ill. Our congregation, Grace Inclusive Church, continues to hold regular services here in Santa Cruz. Thanks to Rev. Eden Jakajebarga-Bell and the wonderful members of our church, and of course to the Savior of us all! We look forward to what God has planned and remain in awe about what he has done thus far.

Oct. 25, 2000:

Well, I remain ill. I'm a tad better but still unable to do much. Our congregation, Grace Inclusive continues, we now hold two weekly services. The AllFaith domain continues and Jesus is still Lord.

God is still good!

August 10, 2001:

It’s been nearly a year since my last health update here. I'm still very ill. Due to my son developing a seizure disorder we moved to Vallejo Ca. to be nearer to him. Due to the new medications he is on his seizures are under control. He hasn't had one since January of this year and we're very thankful to God and his doctors for this.
Grace Inclusive Church is still holding a weekly service in Santa Cruz.
It is interesting for me to read over this piece again. It brings back great memories as well as several hard questions that I remain unable to answer.
Throughout this piece, like the rest of AllFaith, I've tried to be honest with my web guests and to speak the truth as I see it. I must acknowledge therefore that I am deeply troubled by verses that say things like "if two of you agree on anything my father in heaven will do it for you," "Ask and you will receive," "Lay hands on the sick and they will recover," etc. I've had literally thousands of people "agree with me in faith" for my healing yet I remain as sick today as ever before. Nonetheless, I remain convinced that God is true and is able to heal. I also remain certain that at times God does heal. Nonetheless, the fact that I remain so ill, and that Andrea remains so painfully disabled with her back despite the earnest prayers of so many, is leading me to question my faith; NOT my faith in God, but my faith in the New Testament's claims and presentations about Him. Where this questioning discontent will lead I can't say, but I do believe that I must acknowledge these concerns.

June 24, 2002:

In the update before this one I spoke of my doubts and loss of faith in the biblical promises. These doubts, in part, led me to embrace Islam for a while, as discussed elsewhere on the site. Today I remain very ill yet my faith in God remains strong. I still have many of the same questions I discussed above and thus far no answer to them. I understand that in the final analysis there is only one possible answer: it is not God's Will that I be healed yet. That's OK, it is hard, but OK.
As this has become a bit of a running diary for me, I will mention that due to a bureaucratic snafu, Andrea has not received any insurance payments since January past and unless her payments resume soon we will be homeless as of August 2002. Your prayers are requested, though I know that God will, one way or the other, provide.

July 18, 2004:

Its been quite a while since I added to this diary.
We're now living in American Canyon, in the beginnings of the Napa Valley. I'm still about the same, health wise. The skin irritations/itching/burning remains unchecked. I've seen a couple of specialists, tried taking Atarax, nothing helps. For the most part I can walk, which is a lot, especially since my three-wheeled scooter died a while back.
Andy is still hurting with back pains. A settlement is supposed to be here within the month, at which time we hope to buy a house with some land, hopefully in or near Mendocino County or back in Santa Cruz. Time will tell. Your prayer in our behalf are requested.
My son remains seizure free, yeah!
Grace Inclusive Church still exists, though it is in a bit of a hiatus right now.
Spiritually, I still believe in God and God's power. I've posted the following elsewhere, but as it continues to sum up my essential beliefs it seems appropriate to add it here as it still sums up my essential faith and beliefs:

God's Garden

~ by John of AllFaith

Some folks say they know the truth
They claim they've got it all down,
But I say that such people
Are little more than clowns

For God is far greater
Than anything we conceive
And so we're only partly right
No matter what we believe

Like Paul we gaze in the mirror
And behold our own reflection
I guess we won't really know the Truth
'Till we attain perfection

The only thing I know for sure
Is that God is Love
My only hope of salvation
Is to trust that Love above

Yah vishva deva
Ki vatika
Hai sair karne
Ke liye

This universe is God's garden
And its meant for roaming in


Peace,

August 29, 2006:

A lot has happened since my last entry, yet surprisingly little has changed.
For the past few weeks I've making my way through every page of Allfaith.com, updating, adding new backgrounds etc. as well as posting new studies and articles.
Andrea bought property near Oroville/Paradise California and we moved up.
Both boys are doing fine, the older is 21 years old now, the younger 18. Both are in school with bright futures.
The younger of the two, has had no more seizures, though he remains on the medications. The doctors occasionally consider taking him off. He is now on a lower dosage and will hopefully be off one of these days.
I'm still quite ill. After so many years, I've learned to live the illness much better, but I still can't much. Frankly it seems like a waste to me, but God is in control.
I continue ministering to people via the internet here at Allfaith.com
After being promised in her settlement that she would receive disability payments until her 65th birthday, Andrea was kicked off with less than a month's notice (at age 49). Since we are both disabled, she can't afford a lawyer to fight this clear breach of contract. She will appeal, but without a lawyer and expensive tests proving she has not recovered, it appears she is out of luck. How we will survive is anyone's guess, but God always comes through somehow.

I suppose I could ramble on, but I'll close this latest update here.

So for now,

Thank you for your continuing supportive letters and prayers on our behalf.
~John of AllFaith



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