Sought by Love: Stories of Miracles, Mercy, and Healing

David January 3, 2017 2:37 am 0

Greater Than Cancer: Faith Healed Me

Last year, I set out on a simple family trip to visit my children in the United States. It was supposed to be a short break, nothing out of the ordinary. But God had a different plan—one that would show His mercy in a way I never expected.

It Started with Discomfort

During the visit, I casually mentioned to my brother—who happens to be a medical doctor—that I’d been feeling some discomfort in my abdomen. There was also irregular bleeding. I brushed it off as early signs of perimenopause. My periods had become erratic. Surely, I thought, this was just a normal part of growing older.

But my brother wasn’t convinced. He scheduled a check-up.

I had a few tests done, expecting nothing major. When the results came back, his expression changed. Something was wrong. Without much explanation, he told me I had another appointment—this time with a specialist.

A Dangerous Diagnosis

When the surgeon reviewed my scans, he looked at me, stunned.

“How did you even make it into the country on time?” he asked.

I laughed nervously. “What do you mean?”

He couldn’t believe I had taken a commercial flight, walked unaided, and looked relatively fine. The truth? I was walking around with a dangerous abnormal growth in my uterus that had already spread to other organs.

That day, my entire life shifted.

What was meant to be a warm visit with my children turned into a full-blown medical emergency. The doctors were deeply concerned. I was rushed into emergency surgery.

Choosing Faith Over Fear

As they wheeled me into the operating room, my children began to cry. I understood their fear. But I also understood something deeper—faith. And I clung to it.

“Where is your faith?” I shouted, wiping their tears. “I do not have cancer. I am not going to die. I’ll have the surgery, and everything will be fine. You’ll see.”

Yes, the surgery was long. Complicated. More intense than expected. Many of my internal organs were affected. The lead surgeon’s hands shook when they opened me up. He later told my brother, “In all my years, I’ve never seen anything like it.”

They were sure it was cancer. All signs pointed to it. Now, we could only wait for the lab results to confirm what seemed inevitable.

The Miracle Report

Days later, the results came in.

No cancer.
Not even a trace.
The growth was benign.

The doctors were speechless. They stared at the report, then at me. They couldn’t explain it. But I could.

We danced. We wept. We praised.

All the chemo prep? Cancelled.
All the dark thoughts? Erased.
All the fear? Gone.

It was a miracle. Clear, unquestionable, divine.

Recovery and Restoration

Though the surgery had been extensive, my heart was light. I recovered steadily, my body catching up with what my spirit already knew—God had delivered me.

And just when we thought the testimony had reached its peak, He did more.

Medical bills that ran into tens of thousands of dollars were mysteriously reduced. We ended up paying a fraction of what was due. Even that, God provided for—down to the last cent.

Why I’m Sharing This

I’m sharing this story for the woman silently worrying about her health.
For the mother too afraid to see a doctor.
For the believer walking through a storm and trying to hold on.

Let me remind you: God still heals. He still performs miracles. And even when it looks too late—He is never late.

Faith is not denial. Faith is defiance. It looks disease in the face and says, “You will not have the final word.” It hears doctors’ warnings and still declares, “I shall not die, but live.”

So if you’re reading this, hold on.
Speak life.
Pray bold prayers.
And believe that healing is still possible.

Because I’m not just telling a story.
I am the story.
And by God’s grace, I’m still here to tell it.

by T.A-E

(Shared with permission)

Facing the Fear of Death: Finding Faith When Letting Go Feels Impossible

Faith conquers fear—even the fear of death. This story explores how surrendering to God’s will brings peace, healing, and understanding beyond the grave.

A few years ago, I stood at the edge of a painful truth: someone I loved deeply was dying, and I didn’t know how to let go.

My aunt had been ill for a long time. Her body was tired. Her will was fading. But we, her family, kept hoping. We held fast to prayers for healing, begging God for a miracle.

Then, one day, my mum called. Her voice trembled as she said, “She’s taken a turn for the worse. Please pray.”

I bowed my head. But as I began to speak, I sensed something different. The Spirit of God interrupted me with a quiet rebuke:
“Why do My children fear death?”

I paused, stunned. His words echoed in my heart like a wave crashing over sand, gentle yet unrelenting. I sat with that question and slowly realized: death is not defeat. Not for a believer.

Still, my human heart wrestled. I wasn’t ready to let go. I remembered how, just a year before, I had received a similar word when my father was ill. God had made it clear—He was calling Dad home. I had shared this with my mother. She dropped the phone. Days passed before she could even speak to me again.

This time, with my aunt, I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t be the bearer of what felt like bad news. Instead, I asked my cousins what they were believing God for. I joined my faith to theirs and we prayed hard. Hopeful. Desperate. Silent in my conflict.

My aunt returned home from the hospital, but her strength never came back. On a visit to Lagos, I asked my husband to check on her. He did—and came back shaken. “She’s so weak,” he said, “She can’t even sit up by herself.”

My heart cracked. I was still confused. I didn’t want her to suffer. But I also didn’t want to stop praying for a miracle. I kept hoping God would change His mind.

Not long after, she was back in the hospital. Again, my mum called, pleading for prayers. I couldn’t find the strength. So I whispered to the Lord, “Please… give this message to someone else. I can’t carry it.”

God heard me.

Soon after, my mum spoke to my brother. God gave him the courage I lacked. He said to her, “Mum, let’s ask the Lord for the grace to pray rightly concerning Aunty.”

My mum shared this with my uncle—her brother, my aunt’s husband. He knelt beside her hospital bed. He took her hand and surrendered her to God’s will. Not long after, she passed peacefully into eternity.

When my mum called again, I already knew. As she shared what happened, I wept. But not just with grief. There was also peace.

That night, the Lord gave visions to several members of the family. They saw my aunt in heaven, dancing, radiant, joyful. She was pain-free. Free from the frailty that had held her down for so long. It was a divine reminder: death is not defeat.

Death Has Lost Its Sting

For the children of God, death is not the end. It is not punishment. It is the doorway to eternity.

Yes, we grieve. We ache. We miss our loved ones. But we do not mourn as the world mourns. We carry hope even in our sorrow, because we know this is not goodbye—it’s “see you later.”

Scripture says, “Death is swallowed up in victory.” And “To live is Christ, to die is gain.” These are not just words. They are anchors. Truths we hold on to when we stand at the edge of farewell.

Death does not have the final say. Christ took the sting out of it. He broke its hold.

When You’re Faced with Letting Go

If you’re walking through the shadow of death—whether it’s your own fear, or watching someone you love slipping away—remember this:

God is still good.
He sees. He knows. He carries you.
His timing is perfect, even when it doesn’t make sense.

Letting go doesn’t mean giving up. It means surrendering to the One who knows how to carry souls from this side of eternity to the next.

So, pray boldly. Grieve honestly. Love deeply. And when the time comes, trust fully.

For in Christ, even death has been defeated.

Sit and Feast: Trusting God at the Table He Prepares

Even in battle, God prepares a feast. This powerful story reminds us to fix our eyes on God, trust His word, and sit boldly at the table He has prepared for us.

I started the year in a war zone—not a physical one, but a fierce spiritual battle. My newborn baby boy, just days old, became the target of an enemy determined to steal, kill, and destroy.

I was recovering from my first-ever Caesarean section. Weak. Worn out. Unable to pray as I wanted. Yet, one word sustained me—a word God had spoken even before my son was born:

“I have set a table before you in the presence of your enemies.”

That was it. That was the promise. And even though my body felt drained and my heart heavy, I held on. I leaned on that word with everything I had. I trusted that if God had set the table, He would also guard the feast.

When You Can’t Fight, Rest in the Word

In those dark early days, I didn’t need to fight. God did the fighting for me. He raised up prayer warriors across the globe—people I didn’t even know were interceding for my son. Heaven heard. Hell trembled.

We spent Christmas and New Year’s in hospital wards. Not the celebration I had imagined, but still, God showed up. Every scheme of the enemy failed. Every fiery dart was blocked. The Lord stood like a mighty shield over my baby. He deflected every arrow.

And when it was all said and done, we walked out of that hospital victorious. Whole. Healed. Grateful.

God proved Himself faithful—again. He made a mockery of the enemy’s threats and silenced every voice that doubted.

Eyes on the Father, Not the Frenzy

Imagine a table spread with the finest food you’ve ever seen—succulent lamb, tender turkey, spicy bokoto, buttery lobster. Your mouth waters. Your stomach growls.

Now imagine that table is surrounded by wild, snarling animals. Predators. Enemies. They glare at you. They want your seat. They want your feast.

But then God says, “Sit and eat, Beloved.”

What do you do?

If you stare at the animals, you’ll never sit. If you listen to their growls, you’ll never eat. But if you keep your eyes on your Father—if you listen only to His voice—then you’ll take your seat in confidence. You’ll feast in peace.

That’s what I did.

I stopped watching the chaos. I tuned out the noise. And I fixed my gaze on the One who promised. The One who never fails.

The Table Is For You Too

This promise isn’t just mine. It’s yours too.

Whatever you’re facing—sickness, fear, financial pressure, family tension—God says: “I’ve prepared a table for you. Right here. In front of every enemy.”

Don’t let fear steal your seat. Don’t let doubt rob your feast.

This year, choose faith over fear. Tune out the distractions. Sit at the table. Trust His word.

He didn’t set the table for the enemy. He set it for YOU.

Rest. Eat. Believe.

God doesn’t prepare meals in vain. If He set the table, then there’s provision. There’s healing. There’s joy. There’s peace.

So sit, dear one. Sit and eat.

Rest in the fact that the One who called you is faithful. He will finish what He started. He will fight while you feast.

Let the world rage. Let the enemy snarl. Your eyes belong on your Father. Your ears belong to His voice.

He says, “Sit and eat.”
So go ahead—pull up your chair. The table is waiting.

*The Lord: strong and mighty; the Lord Mighty in battle. Commander of the hosts of heaven. The Lion of the tribe of Judah, the Lion who maketh no way for another. Baba mi, aribiti rabata, oyigiyigi Oba atobijulo. Kaaaaaaaabbbiiiiiiiyyeeeessiiii !!!!!!!!

Alone in the Dark: A Journey Through Depression and Deliverance

A powerful journey through postnatal depression to healing. This raw, faith-filled testimony reminds women they are never alone, even in their darkest seasons.

Like many first-time mothers, I was excited. Pregnancy filled me with hope. I took my vitamins, showed up to every appointment, and carefully prepared for my baby’s arrival.

Labor was surprisingly smooth. And when she arrived—my beautiful baby girl—I was over the moon. Everyone wanted to hold her. But something shifted when I got home.

When Joy Doesn’t Come Home with You

The crying didn’t stop. And I didn’t want to hold her. I changed her, I fed her, but the sound of her cry shook something in me. Instead of joy, I felt hollow. Empty. Sad.

I mentioned it to my mother when she came to help. I told her I thought I might be experiencing post-partum depression. She brushed it off: “Snap out of it.”

So I did—or so I thought.

In the next three years, I had two more children. I stayed busy. But slowly, the color drained out of my life. I stopped enjoying mornings. I dreaded getting out of bed. My husband played with the children, but I found reasons to avoid them.

I blamed my weight. Then I blamed fatigue. But deep down, I just felt… lost.

Losing Myself, One Day at a Time

When I left my career of 20 years to focus on family, I assumed the sadness was job-related. I missed the identity I had in my work. Still, the decision had been mine. There was no one to blame.

So I turned inward, lashing out at my husband, crying without reason, struggling through each day.

Even exercise couldn’t lift the fog. Guilt followed me everywhere. I knew my children were growing up with an emotionally absent mother, and I hated myself for it.

The Breaking Point

One afternoon, my husband and I argued in the car on our way to a party. I was getting angry and asked him to stop the car. He wouldn’t. I asked again. Still, he wouldn’t.

Feeling trapped—like a prisoner—I opened the car door and jumped out.

Yes, I leapt out of a moving car on the highway.

I curled into a ball, praying no car would crush me. It hit me in that moment: If I die like this, will I make heaven? Will this count as suicide?

By God’s mercy, I rolled off the road into a ditch. My clothes were torn. My shoulder was bleeding. A military truck stopped, thinking there was a robbery. Guns drawn. My husband stunned. Everyone shouting.

I barely heard them.

Eventually, he called my mother. We went to the hospital. I didn’t speak. I cried myself to sleep while he held me.

The Long Climb Out

I spent the next few days in bed, praying and searching. My husband blamed the devil. But I knew there was more. I needed understanding.

The word came again: Depression.

I called a wise Christian friend. I told her everything—things I’d hidden for years.

She listened, then gently said, “You’re suffering from depression.”

Finally, someone named it.

For ten days, I stayed indoors, reading about depression, praying, healing. I apologized to my husband. I had only given him half of myself. Yet he had loved me through it all.

The Cloud Lifts

Days before my birthday, I walked—something I hadn’t done in years. It began to drizzle. I kept walking. I used to love walking in the rain.

Then I heard Him.

“What do you want for your birthday?”

I didn’t hesitate.

“To wake up with a song in my heart, like I used to.”

The next morning, I jumped out of bed. No weight. No fog.

And as my feet touched the mat, I burst into song. A song of worship. Tears poured down as joy returned.

The cloud had lifted.

You’re Not Alone

Dear woman reading this: if you’re battling invisible darkness, know this—you are not alone. God sees. He hears. And He heals.

Don’t suffer in silence. Speak to someone. Get help. Seek God.

He still lifts heavy clouds. He still brings the morning song.

You don’t have to stay alone in the dark. Light is breaking through. Let it in.

In Whom Do You Trust?

True protection comes not from men or magic, but from God alone. A powerful story on trusting in the Lord when human help fails and enemies gather.

They gathered in secret—united not by truth or justice, but by a single goal: to bring down a man they could not understand.

Plotting in whispers, they searched for weaknesses. When nothing worked, one of them had an idea: “Let’s take his photo to the national convention of wizards and witch doctors.”

Yes, a convention. Of occultists.

Who would’ve thought the devil’s camp could be so organized?

So they passed the photo around the room, seeking to identify his spiritual backing. One by one, the sorcerers examined it. Silence. Confusion. Then a question:

“Who is this man?”

They explained, “He is a traditional ruler in our country. We want to know who his diviner is. If we can identify his source, maybe we can find a way to overpower him.”

Still—no answers.

So they tried again. The photo made another round. Still no one recognized the man. Not one diviner laid claim to him. Not a single witch had insight into his spiritual defenses.

Finally, they gave up.

And his enemies—armed with nothing but envy and evil intentions—went home in shame.

Why This Matters

If that man had trusted in humans for protection, they would have found him. They would have sold him to the highest bidder. Human alliances crumble. Even the most skilled spiritualist has a price.

But those who trust in the Lord?

They are unshakeable.

Trust in the Right Source

The Bible says:
“The arm of flesh will fail you.”
But,
“They that trust in the Lord shall be as Mount Zion, which cannot be moved.” (Psalm 125:1)

That’s the kind of covering you want.

You may never be the target of a spiritual attack at a sorcerers’ convention. But life throws battles our way. Some are visible—others are not.

You may not see the arrows, but you feel them:

Sudden opposition.
Confusing setbacks.
Closed doors for no reason.
Spiritual heaviness you can’t explain.

That’s why your trust must be in someone who cannot fail.

No Man Can Keep You Like God Can

Let’s be honest: trusting God isn’t always easy. Especially when you can “see” the power and influence of others. When connections seem like shortcuts. When compromising just a little feels tempting.

But ask yourself: Can they really protect you when the real storm hits?

Human beings fail.
Systems collapse.
Friends switch sides.

But God?
He never sleeps. Never changes. Never backs down.

What This Story Teaches Us

That man—untouched by the occult powers of his day—remained safe, not because of who he knew on earth, but who he belonged to in heaven.

No one could find a grip on him because his covering came from above.

When you’re in God’s hands, nothing and no one can snatch you out.

Final Word

We all trust something.
Our connections. Our savings. Our jobs. Our networks.

But only one trust is truly unbreakable.

Put your trust in God. Not people. Not prophets. Not politics.

When the enemy comes searching, let them find nothing they can handle—because God is your shield.

So, in whom do YOU trust?

What Is That Light?

An unforgettable childhood encounter with a mysterious glowing light leads to a powerful revelation of God’s presence, healing, and love—even before we seek Him.

God often hides Himself. He waits to be found by those who seek Him with their whole heart. Yet, He also says, “Here I am, here I am”—even to those who aren’t looking.

When I was a child, I asked endless questions. My older brother nicknamed me “Why Dad, why?” after a cartoon character known for bombarding his father with one question after another. I was curious about everything, especially the divine. I remember being around 13 when I seriously started wondering, “Who is God? If He created everything, who created Him?” But honestly, the questions started long before that.

God didn’t wait for me to grow up or become spiritual. He introduced Himself to me when I was just eight.

A Light in the Church Hall

It was a regular choir practice at Archbishop Vining Memorial Church in Lagos. I was one of the youngest in the choir, proudly wearing my robe every Sunday. Singing brought me joy. It was one of my favorite times of the week.

That particular evening during rehearsal, as I stood to sing with the others, something unusual caught my eye. At the far end of the massive church hall, I saw a soft, amber-colored light. It wasn’t harsh or glaring. It flowed gently, like a piece of silk dancing in the wind. Up and down. Peacefully.

It felt… holy.

A Silent Question

I stared in awe, curiosity dancing alongside wonder. “What is that light? Where is it coming from?” I searched for fans, fluttering curtains, anything that might explain it.

Nothing.

But the peace it brought stayed with me. It settled in my heart and wrapped itself around me like a warm blanket. When rehearsal ended, I didn’t want to leave. I looked forward to the next meeting, hoping, no, yearning to see it again.

And I did.

Every evening for the next few weeks, that light was there. Flowing. Gentle. Silent.

But I told no one. I was shy. Our choir leader was a stern Archdeacon. Most of the other choristers were older. My father, who answered most of my life questions, didn’t take much interest in church. So I kept it to myself.

Still, I wondered: What is this light? What does it mean?

A Hymn with an Answer

Then came the answer. Not from a pastor. Not from a sermon. But from a hymn.

That Sunday, we sang William Cowper’s hymn from 1779:

“Sometimes a light surprises the Christian while he sings;
It is the Lord who rises with healing in His wings.”

My heart leapt. I knew instantly God had shown Himself to me. Not in thunder. Not in drama. But in peace. In light. In beauty.

And just like that, I stopped seeing the light. Not because He left, but because He had made His point. I had received the answer.

Why Would God Reveal Himself as Light?

Because He is Light.

The Bible says in 1 John 1:5, “God is light; in Him there is no darkness at all.” He meets us in ways we can understand, especially as children. I wasn’t praying for a vision or seeking deep spiritual insight. I was just a child who loved to sing. But He found me.

He healed something in me I didn’t even know was broken.

When God Seeks Before We’re Searching

Sometimes we think God only responds when we initiate. But my story reminds me that God comes looking for us first.

He reaches for the heart before it even knows how to cry out.

Like the Father waiting for the prodigal son, He runs toward us—sometimes as a Father, sometimes as a whisper, and sometimes… as a mysterious flowing light.

Final Thought

Are you looking for God? Maybe you’re in a dry place. Maybe you’re not even sure if He sees you. Let this story encourage you.

He knows how to reach you.
He knows how to heal you.
And when the time is right, He will surprise you with His light.

So, open your eyes.
Open your heart.
And ask again:

“What is that Light?”

Obedience Saved My Life

A divine nudge, a split-second decision, and a bank robbery avoided—discover how obedience to God’s voice can save your life, literally and spiritually.

It was a regular afternoon. I was on my way to the bank to withdraw some money. Nothing out of the ordinary—until I heard that thought.

“You don’t need this money now.”

It was quiet, almost gentle, but clear. I brushed it aside.

“Of course, I do,” I replied in my heart as I turned into the bank’s parking lot. I had errands to run, responsibilities to meet. That money was needed.

But as I stepped into the banking hall, something felt… off.

A Strange Feeling

The hall was unusually crowded. There was a strange energy in the room—an uneasy kind of tension I couldn’t quite explain. That same thought came again:

“You don’t need this money now.”

Still, I resisted it. I moved forward, filled out my cheque, and joined the queue. The man in front of me completed his transaction and stepped away.

It was my turn.

As I stepped forward, I heard it again—this time, crystal clear and direct:

“What value is there in your disobedience now?”

It felt like someone had tapped me on the shoulder and whispered into my soul. I froze.

Then, without saying a word, I walked past the stunned cashier, turned around, and walked straight out of the bank. I got into my car and drove off.

The Call That Changed Everything

Barely minutes later, as I neared my house, my phone rang. A friend was on the line.

“Are you outside?” she asked.

“Just heading home,” I replied.

She said I should get indoors quickly. There were reports of gunshots and an armed robbery in the area. My heart sank.

Later that evening, I spoke to my husband who was away at the time. He made a few calls to his contacts in the security services. When he called me back, I was stunned.

The robbery wasn’t just near my bank. It happened inside my bank.

God’s Timing Is Never Late

The timeline began to fall into place.

I had received that first call just minutes after I drove out of the bank. Meaning the entire incident—robbers, gunfire, chaos—unfolded almost immediately after I left.

The next day, I had to return to the bank to complete the transaction I had walked away from. When I arrived, I found the doors still shut. The bank had delayed opening until noon.

From my car, I saw the final stages of cleanup underway.

Then I saw something that made everything real: blood being washed off the pavement.

One Minute Could Have Cost Me Everything

I sat in my car, overwhelmed.

What if I had stayed one more minute?
What if I had gone ahead to cash that cheque?
What if I had ignored that quiet voice just one more time?

I was next in line. It would have taken barely two minutes to finish the transaction. Those two minutes could have been the last of my life.

The Power of Prompt Obedience

That experience taught me something powerful.

Obedience is not optional. It’s life-saving.

God’s voice won’t always come in thunder and lightning. Sometimes, it’s a nudge. A whisper. A check in your spirit. And when we choose to ignore it, we place ourselves in harm’s way.

Scripture says in 1 Samuel 15:22, “To obey is better than sacrifice.” I lived that verse that day.

God had no need to explain Himself. He didn’t show me a vision or give me a sign. He simply said: “Don’t do it now.” And thankfully, the third time He spoke, I listened.

Final Thoughts

We often wait for clarity. For confirmation. For proof. But what if obedience itself is the confirmation? What if listening the first time is the key to your breakthrough… or your safety?

Today, if you feel a nudge from God, don’t argue. Don’t delay. Obedience might not only bless your life—it might save it.

So, the next time God whispers, “Not now”—listen.
It could make all the difference.

Healed by Praise

A mother turns to praise instead of panic—and witnesses a miraculous healing in her daughter. Discover how faith-filled worship brings powerful results.

I had been away for a few weeks. When I returned home, I noticed something strange. My two-year-old daughter was walking gingerly, like she was in pain.

I asked what was wrong. They told me it was nothing—just a cold. She was recovering, they said.

But I knew something was off.

A Mother’s Instinct

A couple of days later, her behavior grew more worrying. She clung to me constantly, quiet and withdrawn. This wasn’t my usual bubbly child.

I took her to the doctor.

After a few tests, the doctor looked at me with disbelief.
“Her blood count is so low, I don’t understand how she’s even standing!” he said.

He admitted her immediately. The diagnosis? Pneumonia.
The next step? A blood transfusion.

My heart raced. My mind was spinning. But deep inside, I remembered something. Someone.

The Blood That Speaks Better Things

While friends and colleagues scrambled to find safe blood, I paused.

Yes, my daughter needed blood. But wasn’t it already provided?

Jesus had shed His blood once and for all. For her. For healing. For wholeness.

So, in a moment of quiet faith, I took a bold step. I signed her out of the hospital and took her home.

There, I didn’t pray a long prayer. I didn’t weep or plead. I simply reached for my shekere, that simple African praise instrument. And I began to praise.

Praise as Warfare

I didn’t have fancy words. Just rhythms. Just raw worship.

Slowly, I beat out a tune—soft at first, then louder. I danced. I cried. I sang. The house echoed with praise.

With each beat, something changed. Faith rose within me. I could sense heaven drawing near. Something broke in the spirit.

That night, I did battle. Not with fear, but with praise.

The Morning After

As the sun rose, I took her back to the hospital. Not because I doubted—but to fulfill all righteousness. I asked the doctors to run another test.

They did. And their faces told the story before their mouths did.

“Is this the same baby I saw yesterday?” the doctor asked. “What did you do?”

Her blood count was perfect. No sign of pneumonia. No need for transfusion.

She was running, laughing, bouncing with energy.

I stood there, stunned—but not surprised. God had answered.

Angels in the Room

I knew I hadn’t praised alone that night.
Heaven had joined me.
Angels had surrounded us.
And God had moved.

He didn’t need a long list of requests. Just a heart full of trust. Just a mother who believed that the blood of Jesus still speaks.

The Power of Worship

Worship isn’t filler between sermons.
It’s warfare. It’s surrender.
It’s the key to unlocking heaven on earth.

In moments when you feel powerless, lift a song.
When fear tries to choke your faith, praise louder.
When your child is sick, your back is against the wall, or your heart is broken—choose worship.

Because God inhabits praise. And when He shows up, sickness must leave.

Be Encouraged

This is just one of many stories—real-life testimonies of faith, love, and healing. When medicine ran out, praise stepped in. When logic failed, God’s power prevailed.

So whatever you’re facing, take this to heart:

Praise is your weapon. Use it.
Faith is your shield. Raise it.
The name of Jesus is your victory. Shout it.

You’re never fighting alone.
Heaven fights with you.

And like my daughter, you too can rise again—healed by praise.