The first person that the Bible has record of Jesus’ healing is the son of a Jewish nobleman from Capernaum. Jesus had returned to Cana (which is in Galilee), where He had previously performed the miracle at a wedding and had turned water into wine. The nobleman’s son was dying, and when he heard that Jesus had returned to Cana, which was about 16 miles from Capernaum, he came to Jesus, asking that He come and heal his sick son. After a short conversation, Jesus tells him: “Go thy way, thy son liveth” (John 4:49). The father believes and, in faith, grasps these words that give such relief and joy to his anguished heart. In that moment, healing is bestowed upon his sick and suffering son.

“At the same hour the watchers beside the dying child in the home at Capernaum beheld a sudden and mysterious change. The shadow of death was lifted from the sufferer’s face. The flush of fever gave place to the soft glow of returning health. The dim eyes brightened with intelligence, and strength returned to the feeble, emaciated frame. No signs of his malady lingered about the child. . . . The fever had left him in the very heat of the day. The family were amazed, and great was the rejoicing.”—The Desire of Ages, p. 199.

With what lighter step and heart this father must have made his way back home to his beloved son! “When he went to find Jesus, his heart was heavy with sorrow. The sunshine seemed cruel to him, the songs of the birds a mockery. How different his feelings now! All nature wears a new aspect. He sees with new eyes. As he journeys in the quiet of the early morning, all nature seems to be praising God with him. While he is still some distance from his own dwelling, servants come out to meet him, anxious to relieve the suspense they are sure he must feel. He shows no surprise at the news they bring, but with a depth of interest they cannot know he asks at what hour the ch ild began to mend. They answer, ‘Yesterday at the seventh hour the fever left him.’ At the very moment when the father’s faith grasped the assurance, ‘Thy son liveth,’ divine love touched the dying child.”—Ibid.

In Matthew 8, we see another instance where Jesus healed someone. In this case, He healed a man who had leprosy. Jesus had been up on a mountainside with His disciples for some time, teaching and instructing them. Now, after having come down from the mountain, great multitudes come to Him and follow Him. Among them is a leper. “He is a loathsome spectacle. The disease has made frightful inroads, and his decaying body is horrible to look upon. At the sight of him the people fall back in terror. They crowd upon one another in their eagerness to escape from contact with him. Some try to prevent him from approaching Jesus, but in vain. He neither sees nor hears them. . . . He sees only the Son of God. He hears only the voice that speaks life to the dying.”—Ibid., p. 263. He casts himself at Christ’s feet crying: “Lord, if thou wilt, thou canst make me clean” (Matthew 8:2). Jesus stretches out His hand, touches Him and says these words that must have been sweet music to the leper’s ears: “I will; be thou made clean” (Matthew 8:3). In that instant, the leprosy completely vanishes, leaving no trace of it ever having existed on his body. “Immediately a change passes over the leper. His blood becomes healthy, the nerves sensitive, the muscles firm. The unnaturally white, scaly surface peculiar to leprosy disappears; and his flesh becomes as the flesh of a little child.”—Ibid. What a miracle! I can only imagine what it must have been like to witness such an amazing healing. But more than that, how full must this man’s heart have been with love and gratitude for His healer!

Yet another beautiful story of Christ’s healing is the story of the paralytic whose friends opened up tiles in a roof to present the sufferer to Jesus. His story is one of my personal favorites and one of the most touching, so I will dedicate a larger portion of this article to this story. The paralytic man had no hope of recovery and was not only tormented by physical pain but also by bitter remorse, by the burden of guilt, and thus mental suffering, as his condition was the result of a sinful life. He had hoped to receive some relief for his suffering from the Pharisees and doctors, but they showed him no compassion nor provided him with any hope or help. Thus, he had reached the depths of despair, until the news of the wonderful healings of Jesus reached his ears. He heard how Jesus had healed others as sinful, hopeless, and helpless as he, and the friends who had shared these stories with him encouraged him to believe that he, too, could be healed if he could just find a way of reaching Jesus. But more than for physical healing, he yearned for forgiveness and peace—and as his body was beginning to decay, he realized he had no time to lose. He finally made up his mind to see Jesus. He enlisted the help of his friends who gladly undertook the chore of carrying him on his bed to where Jesus was.

Jesus was at the house of Peter, teaching all those who had gathered around Him. The problem was that such a large and thick crowd was around Jesus that it was essentially impossible to reach Him. In vain, those who had brought the paralytic to Jesus tried and tried to push their way to Jesus. It says in Mark 2:2 that “straightway many were gathered together, insomuch that there was no room to receive them, no, not so much as about the door.” Can you imagine how the paralytic man must have felt when he realized that his only hope of help was so near yet seemed unreachable? In one last desperate attempt, he asked his friends to let him down through the roof, which they did. They took him to the roof and uncovered a part of it to make an opening. Then, they gently lowered him down at the feet of Jesus. “The discourse was interrupted. The Saviour looked upon the mournful countenance, and saw the pleading eyes fixed upon Him. He understood the case; He had drawn to Himself that perplexed and doubting spirit. While the paralytic was yet at home, the Saviour had brought conviction to his conscience. When he repented of his sins, and believed in the power of Jesus to make him whole, the life-giving mercies of the Saviour had first blessed his longing heart. Jesus had watched the first glimmer of faith grow into a belief that He was the sinner’s only helper, and had seen it grow stronger with every effort to come into His presence.”—Ibid., p. 268. Now, the paralytic hears the most wonderful words he has ever heard in his life as Jesus tells him: “Son, be of good cheer; thy sins be forgiven thee” (Matthew 9:2).

“The burden of despair rolls from the sick man’s soul; the peace of forgiveness rests upon his spirit, and shines out upon his countenance. His physical pain is gone, and his whole being is transformed. The helpless paralytic is healed! the guilty sinner is pardoned!

“In simple faith he accepted the words of Jesus as the boon of new life. He urged no further request, but lay in blissful silence, too happy for words. The light of heaven irradiated his countenance, and the people looked with awe upon the scene.”—Ibid. Jesus then tells him: “Arise, and take up thy bed, and go thy way into thine house” (Matthew 2:11). “Then he who had been borne on a litter to Jesus rises to his feet with the elasticity and strength of youth. The life-giving blood bounds through his veins. Every organ of his body springs into sudden activity. The glow of health succeeds the pallor of approaching death.”—Ibid., p. 269.

“And immediately he arose, took up the bed, and went forth before them all; insomuch that they were all amazed, and glorified God, saying, We never saw it on this fashion” (Matthew 2:12). What wonderful love, mercy, and compassion Jesus showed to this afflicted man! No words would be able to express the feeling the paralytic must have experienced after this unimaginably life-changing encounter with the Lord.

These are just three of the many people Jesus healed when He was on this earth. There are many others, and each of these stories is just as inspiring and encouraging. But do you know what the best part is? This healing is for us today as well—not just for the people in these stories. Miracles still happen today; divine healing still exists. “Christ feels the woes of every sufferer. When evil spirits rend a human frame, Christ feels the curse. When fever is burning up the life current, He feels the agony. And He is just as willing to heal the sick now as when He was personally on earth.”—Ibid., p. 823. I am proof of this. When I was very little, I could have died, and it is only because of Jesus’ help and healing power that I am here today.

In the summer of 1995 we attended the public meetings of the SDARM General Conference held in Ploesti, Romania. I was a little over 2 years old, thus, needless to say, most of this story is thanks to the recollection of my parents and not my own as I have very little memory of it. Nonetheless, it is my story.

Following the visit to Romania, my parents and I traveled to Hungary where we stayed at the SDARM church in the village of Mogyoród which is in Pest County. Not long after arriving there, we were doing worship on Friday evening to welcome the Sabbath when I blurted out to my parents in a pained tone: “my stomach.” I had developed quite a painful stomachache. After worship, I sat down at the table to eat but was unable to eat almost anything. That night, I developed a fever and diarrhea, and was vomiting all throughout the night. I would be so thirsty and would drink water endlessly but wasn’t able to retain it. I couldn’t keep it down or in! Apparently, I had contracted a stomach infection while in Romania. My parents became quite worried and prayed fervently for God to help and guide, and for Him to send people who spoke English, since they couldn’t speak a word of Hungarian. Thankfully, at the church where we were staying, there was a young Romanian brother who spoke a little German. Since my dad can speak some German, they were able to communicate. My dad asked him if he could make some phone calls to try to find help for me, but the brother explained that there was no phone installed yet in the Mogyoród church. However, he was very kind and brought us a few things we needed.

On Sabbath, my condition had worsened. I continued with the concerning fever, vomiting, and diarrhea. As I mentioned previously, my parents couldn’t communicate with anyone because they didn’t speak Hungarian, but thankfully there was a brother from Australia whose parents were Hungarian and who spoke both Hungarian and English. He translated for my parents and put them in contact with a kind Hungarian sister whose name I don’t know but I wish I did. He explained our situation to her and she brought me a couple food items that she thought might help and which she thought my unsettled stomach would be able to keep down. Unfortunately, I was in such a rough condition that I was unable to keep those foods down, either. However, she also gave my parents her phone number in case we needed anything, which was of great help later on.

By around 4 p.m. that Sabbath, my mom began to panic because she realized I was very dehydrated from the constant diarrhea and vomiting and being unable to keep any fluid (or food) down. I was crying but was shedding no tears, and when she would lightly pinch my skin, instead of immediately flattening and springing back to its normal position when she let go, it would remain raised for about 5 long seconds. She remembered reading in a book by Dr. Agatha Thrash that both of these signs were indicative of extreme dehydration, so she realized it was dangerous and began panicking. My parents began praying even harder. My dad asked the Romanian brother who was at the church and who I mentioned previously, to find a public phone and call for an ambulance. Not long after, the ambulance arrived with its loud wailing sirens, making the fear and worry feel even more real for my parents.

When we arrived at the hospital, thankfully we were greeted by a doctor who spoke English fluently as she had lived in California for several years; however, the situation became more complicated because since I was not vaccinated, the doctors were very reluctant to take me in. After some discussion, prayers, and insistence and persistence on my dad’s part, they finally gave in.

When we were taken to the room where I would be staying, there were large glass windows everywhere through which could be seen babies and small children who were crying and crying, seemingly all alone. At that moment, the doctors instructed my parents to depart and to leave me there. My mom’s heart broke for all the babies she saw crying by themselves, and she firmly made up her mind that not in a million years was she going to leave me there by myself. But it was a struggle because the doctors were not inclined to allow them to stay. Thankfully, during the next shift, a very kind and understanding nurse came and allowed my parents to stay with me. She spoke almost no English, so with a few words and mostly gestures, she told them where they could rest and that they could even use the kitchen during a certain period of the day. She was a blessing, for sure!

I was put on IV, and my hand had to be secured to a small block of wood so I wouldn’t hurt myself with the needle by moving my hand and my finger that was receiving the IV. It was difficult for me as a 2-year-old because I didn’t understand why my parents couldn’t just take me from that crib and remove my hand from the uncomfortable wooden block. I felt desperate, for sure, and it was hard for my parents to see me crying and asking them to take me out from there.

The next morning, the head doctor and another young doctor came, and thankfully they spoke English! They were both very kind, understanding, and compassionate. My parents were extremely worried and would cry at times as they saw me lying there so weak and thin, and he would reassure them that everything was going to be okay. The head doctor left and the doctor accompanying him stayed with us. My dad asked her what could be done for me in my condition. She explained that the principal focus was to replenish the electrolytes by continuing with the IV and to monitor my condition, given that dehydration could be fatal.

I hadn’t eaten almost anything for days but was still throwing up and continued having diarrhea. Another day and another night went by without much improvement. My parents would break down crying often when they would see my weak and thin state, and even more so when I would beg them to take me out of the hospital. I really didn’t like it there. But they couldn’t, and that broke their hearts too.

Another doctor came the next night and examined me and noticed that, in addition to the stomach infection I was battling, I had developed a serious ear infection. The doctor told my parents that in the morning they would have to give me medication to treat my ear infection. But my dad has always had great faith in God’s natural remedies, so somehow he found a way to go out and buy garlic, oil, a dropper, and cotton balls. He squished, squished, and smashed the garlic enough to get some drops of garlic juice and mixed it with olive oil. He then put some in my ear and placed a cotton ball over it and prayed. The next morning, the doctors came to check on me, and guess what! A miracle—the ear infection had completely disappeared! Isn’t that amazing? My parents were so thankful that they had one less thing to worry about!

After three days of being there, my parents decided they would take me from the hospital and see what else could be done. I was so stressed and miserable there, and was constantly crying, not to mention that the cost was also quite high. The head doctor insisted that I should stay until noon of the following day, as I was still quite weak. He even offered to have me stay for one more night free of charge! Yet another blessing; more proof of God’s help and intervention.

When we left the following day, the doctors provided my parents with instructions and guidance on what to feed me, how to feed me, and other such information. I had made improvements, but I still had a long way to go. After leaving the hospital, my parents were still very concerned about me and continued praying for help and guidance. My dad called the kind Hungarian sister I mentioned at the beginning who gave her phone number to my parents. She was very kind and hospitable and invited us to stay at her home. Providentially, her son was attending the IMS missionary school in Mogyoród. Because of this, she knew of an IMS brother from Colombia who was teaching at this missionary school and who was a medical doctor as well as being knowledgable in natural remedies. He came to see me, but I was sleeping, so my parents had to wake me up. Not surprisingly, I began to cry because, what toddler likes being woken up from a nap, right? However, on a happier note, the doctor noticed I was shedding tears as I cried, which was a sign that I was doing better! However, I still needed more hydration and electrolyte replenishment. So, he instructed my parents to make me a form of “home-made IV” by mixing water, sugar, and carrot broth and giving me two tablespoons of it every 15 minutes. I am told that, as a toddler, I wasn’t the happiest camper when they would have to wake me up during the night to feed me those 2 tablespoons every 15 minutes, but thanks be to God, this was when I truly began to mend. My parents were beyond thankful and relieved. About 6 weeks later, I had fully recovered. And now, 26 years later, I can only say, thank the Lord for putting the right people in the right place at the right time, and most of all, thank the Lord for being my Healer, for healing me before I even knew Him! “Bless the Lord, O my soul, and forget not all his benefits: Who forgiveth all thine iniquities; who healeth all thy diseases” (Psalm 103:2, 3).