This Is My Prayer, Too

Ben H. Swett
Temple Hills, MD
August 1975

Our church discussion group had been talking about spiritual healing. We read some of the accounts in the Old and New Testaments. Several people brought in articles or clippings or books on spiritual healing in our own time. We discussed the various reports and speculated about cause and effect, reality and myth, and the possibility that modern science has been missing something.

After all that, I shouldn't have been surprised when, one evening just as we were getting ready to leave, Rosemarie said, "Ben, would you lay your hands on me and pray for me?"

I knew she was hurting. She had fallen off a high cut-bank at the edge of her lawn and sprained practically every muscle and ligament she owned. Her doctor put a thick rubber collar around her neck, and she needed help to walk.

I didn't have the foggiest idea what was wrong with her, or how to fix it, and I know I'm not a doctor, but I said to myself: "I'm an elder of the church. She has asked. I have to try."

I stepped behind her chair and placed my hands on her shoulders, but I couldn't think of anything to say except, "This is my prayer, too." Then I just stood there, not really thinking or praying at all.

After a moment, I felt something on my own shoulders, like a warm, tingling, effervescent fluid. It flowed down over my arms and forearms, but not through them. As it flowed over my hands, I felt Rosemarie's back straighten as if she suddenly sat more upright in her chair.

I tried not to think. I didn't want to get excited or do anything that might shut off the flow. It went on for some little time and then gradually tapered off. When it stopped, I dropped my hands and stepped back. I felt somewhat detached and in reverie, which I recognized as being a slightly altered state of consciousness.

Rosemarie turned around in her chair and asked, "Are you drained?"

I said, "No" ... and I didn't feel as though I had used any of my own energy at all. Then a thought like a vision came into my mind: a picture of me standing behind her chair, and someone standing behind me with his hands on my shoulders, and someone standing behind him with his hands on his shoulders, and on and on, like a chain of helpers--or elders--farther than I could see. I understood that healing energy had come down through that linkage from the Source of all such energy to the one who needed it. I was only a link in the chain or a piece of the plumbing.

At the next meeting, Rosemarie was no longer wearing the rubber collar, and she walked without help although she was still a little stiff and lame. Thereafter, she recovered completely. Amen. That's what counts.