“The Night I Experienced God’s Promise of Healing”

There are moments on this faith journey where words seem too small, too simple, to capture what really happened. Healing is one of those moments.

When I think about healing, I don’t just think of it as something I’ve read about in the Bible, or something that happened long ago. I think of it as something I’ve lived, something I’ve seen with my own eyes, and something I’ve felt in my own body. Yes, I have experienced physical healings—real, unexplainable, miraculous healings.

One of the first times this happened was at the very beginning of my journey. There was a two-week seminar at William Duncan Memorial Church. Every night, people gathered for worship, teaching, and prayer. That week’s focus was healing.

At the time, I was so sick—a nasty chest cold, fever, sore throat, stuffed nose, the works. I could barely breathe and I honestly thought, I shouldn’t go. I’ll just stay home and rest. But something tugged at me. Maybe it was curiosity, maybe faith starting to take root, maybe just desperation. Whatever it was, I went.

I sat alone on purpose, not wanting to spread my sickness to anyone else. As the service went on, there came a time of prayer. Something in me rose up and thought, I want prayer. Maybe, just maybe, I can be healed.

And that’s when it happened.

An elder behind me began to pray. As she prayed, I suddenly felt heat flow through my chest—so real and so powerful I can still remember it vividly today. In an instant, my lungs cleared. My nose opened. My ears popped. My throat stopped hurting. The fever broke. Just like that—bam—I was healed!

I can’t explain it by science or logic. All I know is I walked into that church sick, and I walked out completely well.

Since then, I’ve experienced other healings in my own life and have witnessed others being touched in the same miraculous way. Each time, I’m reminded of what Scripture promises—that healing is not just a story from the past, but a reality that can still happen today.

Do I fully understand it? No. But I believe it. I’ve lived it. Healing is real, and it’s a gift that points us back to the One who still works miracles.

That night of healing marked a turning point for me. It wasn’t just about being physically well again—it was about learning firsthand that God is faithful to His promises. Ever since then, I’ve carried that memory with me, especially when I face struggles or pray for others. It strengthened my trust that God really does hear us, and that He still moves in ways we can’t explain. Today, when I pray for people who are sick or hurting, I do it with a quiet confidence, remembering what He did for me. That moment taught me that healing is more than just a miracle—it’s a reminder of His love, His presence, and His power at work in our everyday lives.

Scripture says, “And the prayer of faith shall save the sick, and the Lord shall raise him up” (James 5:15). I’ve seen that truth alive in my own life. Today, when I pray for people who are sick or hurting, I do it with a quiet confidence, remembering what He did for me. That moment taught me that healing is more than just a miracle—it’s a reminder of His love, His presence, and His power at work in our everyday lives.

Notes from Alex: Streams of Salmon and Stories of Generations

“A timeless cycle that connects streams, people, and history.”

“There’s something timeless about standing at the mouth of a stream and watching salmon return, as if witnessing history swim right before your eyes.”

The other day, I drove down to two different streams. One held a strong pink salmon run, just beginning to gather momentum, while the other was alive with chum and coho pushing upstream. At the mouths of the streams, schools of salmon shimmered and surged together, filling the water with life. I sat there for a moment, just watching, and found myself pondering the deeper story unfolding before me.

These runs have been happening for centuries—long before I was here, long before any of us. And to see it still going on today, against the odds, feels poetically beautiful. Nature’s persistence has a way of humbling us. The salmon return, generation after generation, as if carrying the heartbeat of this place.

Of course, things have changed. The salmon fisheries for commercial harvest are not what they once were. I can remember stories of the 70s, 80s, and 90s, when the runs were stronger, the harvests larger, and the docks busier. Will it ever return to those days? Probably not—or at least, I don’t know. What I do know is this: a handful of commercial boats, both gillnetters and seiners, still work these waters today. Their efforts provide jobs, income, and a thread of economic impact for the community.

This is a salmon-run community, through and through. Generations of fishermen and women have made their living on these runs, and that tradition continues, even if the scale looks different now. The sight of those salmon pressing upstream reminded me that while times change, the core of this place—its connection to the salmon—remains the same.

It’s more than just a run of fish. It’s history, tradition, and survival, all swimming together in the current.

For me, standing by those streams was more than just an afternoon stop. It was a reminder that I too am part of this cycle, part of this tradition. Even if I’m not on a boat, even if I’m not casting a net, I carry the stories, the memories, and the gratitude for what the salmon represent. Observing their return ties me back to my roots, to the community I belong to, and to the generations before me who lived by these same waters. In that way, the salmon’s journey upstream mirrors my own journey—returning, remembering, and carrying forward what truly matters.

Day: August 16, 2025

The Miracle of Healing

“The Night I Experienced God’s Promise of Healing”

“Where the Salmon Still Run”

Notes from Alex: Streams of Salmon and Stories of Generations