Lord heal my...WHAT!?

As one can imagine, 18 years in ministry can make available a variety of experiences which are at opposite ends of the continuum. There is the triumphant and the tragic. The wonderful and horrible. The rewarding and the draining.

The following story is one of the funniest that I experienced.

The first church in which I served was a medium sized charismatic Southern Baptist Church. Picture that if you can. We used to be called Bapticostal. Believing that there are angels, demons and the like we were actually able to help a number of people who actually had spiritual-emotional problems who struggled with a "secular only" approach to counseling. Some of these individuals had legitimate demonic problems and many saw relief after compassionate, applicable counseling.

Having said that, we also encountered many individuals who were just nutty. One particular individual arrived at our door due to the referral of a relative who attended our church. He was convinced that he had demons and that they were telling him to kill himself, that his wife hated him, etc. It was obvious that he was delusional and confused. We spent a few hours talking with him over the next few days. It became apparent that his problems were not on the level which he thought them to be. I made a few referrals to some local professionals and suggested that he make an appointment to see them. He said that he would. His relative, a cousin, said that he could stay with him while undergoing treatment.

The next Sunday there he was, sitting in the pew, quiet and sullen. I kept an eye on him during the service and there was no problem. Afterwards I asked how he was doing. I discovered that he didn't contact any of the counselors yet, and that the reasons that he was having problems was that he decided, "because the Lord told him", to stop taking his lithium. Ah, ha! Maybe that's why he was a bit off kilter. Bi-polar as hell. The best was yet to come:)

Our Wednesday night services were typically calm. This night would be different. We sang and had prayer requests (what I called "organ recital" due to the amount of physical problems mentioned). The usual format was that the lights were dimmed (because it made it easier for God to hear prayers of course!), and people could come forward to kneel at the front stage and pray. Soft music was playing and some folks were kneeling at the stage.

After a few minutes, our bipolar friend slowly stood up and made his way to the front of the church. He was just standing quietly and I thought, "thank you God." My hope was that he would just finish and sit down. Not to happen.

He raised both hands to the sky and shouted at the top of his lungs, "LORD, HEAL MY DICK!" Heads snapped up, eyes were wide open, and those of us who heard what he said were giving each other the, "I can't believe that he just said that, he really didn't say that" look. About 5 seconds passed and he repeated the petition, "LORD, HEAL MY DICK!"

I quickly asked one of our stouter men to the front of the church and had him escort our debilitated friend. He was taken out and over the next few days had a few outbursts in town, was eventually committed, and got back on his medication. He returned home in a few months and was fine after that (and still is for all I know).

Later that evening a few of us were standing around talking about the incident and one of the wives thought that he actually said, "LORD, HEAL MY JEEP!" Her husband said, "I never heard it called that before."

All in all, this was quite a memorable incident. I'm just glad that he wasn't asking us to anoint with oil and lay hands on his "jeep".

WH