Wednesday 7 September 2011

Richard Sheppard's Testimony

Richard Sheppard’s Miraculous Healing.



At 3.00 a.m. I awoke with an excruciating pain in my right hip; a pain which extended into my groin and down the right thigh. No matter which way I turned, there was no way I could eliminate or ease the pain, and it was gradually getting worse. Furthermore, my groin was becoming numb. By 5.00 p.m. that evening my groin had become so numb that I could stick pins into it without feeling a thing, and the pain had become so acute that, though normally wild horses would not drag me to a doctor, let alone a hospital, I eventually called a taxi and was taken to the Casualty Department of Bradford Royal Infirmary.
               After examination and X-rays, the doctor proclaimed that a muscle in my hip had torn away from the pelvis. I was given the choice of being admitted or returning the following day for further examination; having an aversion to hospitals, I chose the latter.      
              The following morning I was given what appeared to be endless tests, examinations and X-rays until another doctor informed me that, in his opinion, the previous diagnosis was incorrect. I had torn a muscle in my hip, but this was an old injury. He suspected a thrombosis and advised that I return the following day to see a specialist.
  The next day I was examined by the specialist, who twisted and turned my legs and seemed most surprised when I cried out in pain. His professional opinion was that I was not suffering from a torn muscle in my hip, nor a thrombosis, but a ruptured psoas (a muscle in my groin that was badly torn), the only cure being complete rest for four to six weeks. Pain-killers were prescribed, but seemed to have little effect (apart from causing constipation!)
  Six weeks later, after frequent visits to the hospital, little had changed, though I had confined myself to the lounge sofa day and night and completely rested the hip as advised. Further sick notes were issued and further visits to the hospital arranged, until, at the end of August, still no better, I insisted that I be allowed to return to work. There were times, however, when I feared I had acted too hastily, particularly at the end of each day, when the pain seemed to reach renewed ferocity.     
 Shortly after returning to work, a work colleague - Bob Tucker – informed me that he had become a born-again Christian, and suggested that we have lunch with Andrew Carter. I have known Andrew for many years, and had no objection, but was amazed when we met for lunch to discover that Andrew too was a born-again Christian and convinced that, through prayer, I could be cured.
  As an agnostic, convinced that some power somewhere must control the order of things, but unconvinced that God as described by the Bible and Christian theology filled that roll, the idea Andrew suggested, of praying for my healing, was somewhat bizarre. I could not initially believe that he was serious, but, the more we talked, the more convincing Andrew became. Faced with two good friends, convinced that through prayer they could cure me, was very unnerving, but, knowing they would pester me until I agreed, and considering that nothing else, had worked, what had I to lose?
  On Tuesday, 10 September, 1985, slightly more than three months since my complaint manifested itself; I accompanied Bob to a meeting of the Fern Fellowship, at the home of Keith and Avril Craven at Haworth. Though normally opposed to church services, and particularly hymn singing, I found myself easily drawn into things and actually enjoyed singing hymns. There were prayers and a testimony from a gentleman from Skipton recounting the apparently miraculous healing of his son afflicted with a brain tumour. Then people were called or invited for healing and several people went forward. But seeing people falling to the floor and then standing up, apparently healed, smacked of amateur dramatics to me, and I sat still and refused to become involved. I was convinced that this sort of thing would not work for me and had no wish to embarrass my two friends if I remained-unhealed.  The meeting finished and members of the group began to leave, as did I when I suddenly realised that what I had construed as a period of only about an hour, had been in fact four hours; it was almost ! However, as I stood and bid goodnight, Bob and Andrew descended on me and insisted that they be allowed to pray for my healing. Unconvinced and somewhat embarrassed I tried to excuse myself, but their response was simply, "What have you got to lose?"
  I was led to the front of the room and sat in a high-backed dining chair. Keith lifted my feet in the palm of his right hand and supported my right leg with his left hand, and announced that my right leg was three quarters of an inch shorter than the left and that they would pray for the Lord to make it grow to its right length. I was unaware that my right leg was shorter than the other, but, with my backside pushed firmly into the back of the chair, it was obvious that my right leg was in fact shorter. They began to pray, whilst I looked on unable to enter into the spirit of things, but suddenly becoming aware of a peculiar, uncontrollable tension in my right leg. As I sat there my leg actually grew to the same length as the other.
  I was then invited to stand up, but when I tried to do so, the pain in my hip was far worse than had ever been before, and I have to admit that my initial reaction was somewhat hostile towards these people. What had they done to me? Yet, as I looked around at the faces of those present, no-one seemed the slightest bit concerned.
  Keith then told me not to worry, but to lie down on the floor. This was easier said than done, because I could not bend my hip. However, I was helped to the floor and, whilst I lay there, they began to pray again.
  Had I seen someone with a hypodermic syringe; I would have had an explanation what happened next. I didn't and I don't, but the whole of my right hip and thigh suddenly became icily cold and completely numb, far more numb than my groin had been previously, and just as if I had received a local anaesthetic and a huge ice pack against my backside. The pain had gone - completely. I was invited to stand up, and did so, quite easily and with no pain or discomfort what so ever. For the first time in three months I was completely without pain, and, furthermore, could walk quite freely. I cannot put into words that feeling of relief and elation, nor my complete bewilderment at what had just occurred.
  I am sure I was neither mesmerised nor hypnotised, nor was I possessed or overcome by any strange feelings or sensations, other than that peculiar iciness in my hip. I wasn’t possessed or thrown-down. I was lucid and totally alert throughout (I had not even bowed my head when others were praying for my healing): There was no way I could have overlooked any trickery or manipulation. I had not asked for healing; my two friends and the people of the Fellowship had done that.
  Needless to say, such an experience cannot help but provoke a great deal of thought and I have thoroughly analysed what happened that Tuesday evening. I have no logical explanation for what happened, nor, for that matter, for the equally strange discovery on my way home.
  A few days prior to the meeting at Haworth, I had severely strained the guider of my left-hand middle finger. On the Tuesday evening it was badly swollen and, even though I had taped it to my third finger for support, was extremely painful, especially when attempting to lift the gear change of my car into reverse and when applying the handbrake. Driving to the meeting had been far from a pleasurable experience.
 Why I chose to drive home via
Brow Road
, I do not know, but at the top of this steep hill, at its junction with
Hebden Road
, I was forced to haul hard on the handbrake to prevent the car rolling backwards whilst I checked traffic. It was one of those moments when one does something and, almost immediately wishes they hadn’t, for I fully expected to feel pain in the injured finger. I did not feel a thing. Once across the junction and at the top of the hill, I pulled up and peeled the tape from my fingers. The injured finger, by the illumination of the interior light of the car, appeared quite normal; the swelling and bruising had gone and, to my complete amazement, I could form a fist without the slightest discomfort.
  By far the most difficult aspect of this experience has been explaining it to others. As an employee of Bradford Metropolitan Council, my job brings me into contact, regularly, with a great many people. Many of them witnessed my difficulty in walking, supported by a stick, prior to that Tuesday evening, but were amazed to see me walking quite normally the following day. To admit that I am a non-believer, but have been, apparently, healed by the power of prayer seems almost ridiculous, but I can only speak of my experience and let them make of it what they will. Bob and Andrew insist it was the power of prayer and the work of the Lord Jesus Christ, and I have no evidence to prove them wrong.
One month later, I am still completely free from the pain in my hip. However I have shortly to return to the hospital, as appointed. It will be interesting to hear what the doctor makes of all this!
Richard G Sheppard.
FERN Christian Fellowship.
Pastor, Keith Craven.
Haworth. 01535 643941

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