Free The Healing by David Park

and when he looked up, his face was smiling down at them as if he knew each one of them personally and was pleased they had come.
    As he spoke, the music continued to play softly in the background and his voice was a strange mixture of a local accent and something partly American. When he lifted both his hands into the air, the tent fell silent, all the rustling and coughing fading away, until the only sound was far-off traffic.
    â€˜Let us go to the Lord in prayer. Our heavenly Father, as we come before You tonight, as we approach the mercy seat in prayer, we look to You for Your blessing. Look down on this assembly tonight and bless us with Thy presence. Shut out all things that would distract or hinder us from hearing Thy voice and send Thy Holy Spirit to guide our worship. We know that here tonight there are those with heavy hearts weighed down by their burden of sin, and those who are afflicted in body and soul. Be graciously near to them and help them this very night to make that journey of faith that they might know the power of Thy salvation. Thou who calmed the storm, quieten now our souls and help us to hear only Thy voice. In Thy holy name we ask it.’
    A chorus of affirmation burst out around the tent.They sang one of the hymns from the sheet they had been given, and some voices in the choir sang high parts, weaving in and out of the melody. Many people raised their hands and some linked with others in a raised chain. The whole service was different to what he was accustomed to, unpredictable in both pattern and style, and when the preacher read from the Bible, his voice too had an unfamiliar cadence. The passage he read was about the woman who had an illness described as an ‘issue of blood’ who was cured when she touched the hem of Christ’s garment. Amidst all the heaving mass of people, Christ had known that someone had touched Him. The preacher’s relentless voice filled the tent, rolling round it and billowing out the sides, and the words soared across his heart like swallows, diving and darting into the dark spaces. Sometimes, too, it felt as though the preacher’s eyes rested on him, and he could see deep inside him.
    He was comparing life to a journey, and beside him his mother sat with the white handkerchief wreathing her hand. She seemed to be carried along by the words.
    â€˜Besides being a strange journey, it’s also a swift one. The moment we believe, we receive life. Between God and man exists a great chasm, a deep turbulence of sin. Oh, sinner, is your soul tossed on that sea tonight? Are you weary and troubled in spirit? There have been many attempts to bridge this chasm, and indeed, all around us we hear the voices of those who preach reformation, revolution, and so on – poor, misguided people who think this or that external change can alter the condition of man’s heart. Well, I say to those people tonight – read the word of God, search the scriptures, for you know, dear friends, all ourrighteousness is as filthy rags. That’s right, all our own efforts at change are worthless, pitiful gestures doomed to failure. Yes, and yet this journey is such a swift one that it only requires faith. It’s true that it may take a man a good deal of time to approach the door, but it’s also true that it only takes a moment to enter. A single moment, the twinkling of an eye – that’s all it takes to enter into a living union with God. Oh poor, travel-weary sinner, it’s a swift journey and now is the appointed time, and now is the moment of salvation.’
    From close by came the sound of someone sobbing. In the choir, men sat with their heads in their hands. There was no escape from the voice. It pursued him no matter where he tried to run.
    â€˜Know, too, that this journey is a simple one. Through Christ’s atoning death, God has dealt with sin and the simplicity of the journey makes it possible for everyone to partake. All you have