Brother Word by Derek Jackson

that Pastor Smallwood is saying—that believers in Christ can lay hands on the sick and they shall recover?”
    The man cleared his throat again. “Yes, I believe that we can lay hands on the sick and they can be healed.” He hesitated for just a second. “I’ve seen it happen.”
    “You
have
? Then would you mind praying for me? I had come here for prayer, but I don’t think the sweet old lady who prayed for me truly believed God could restore my sight. You, on the other hand, sound so . . . so different. For some reason, I don’t know, I . . . just believe you have faith that God can do it.”
    “God can do all things,” the man responded. “Including allowing you to see again.”
    “Amen! Then would you . . . would you pray for me?” she asked again.
    The man nodded. “What is your name?”
    “Lynette Harper. Everybody calls me Lynn, though.”
    The man nodded again. “Lord Jesus, I come to You on behalf of my sister Lynn. There is nothing too hard for You, and it is with that confidence that I stand in agreement with her faith that You would restore her sight. Your Word declares in Matthew 18:19 that if two believers agree on anything we ask for, it will be done for us by our Father in heaven. Now I confidently stand upon Your Word and ask that You would restore her sight.”
    He placed his hands over Lynn’s eyes. “As I lay hands on my sister’s eyes, I speak the healing power of Jesus Christ to manifest with her eyes being—”
    Suddenly, the man felt Lynn inhale sharply and begin to fall backward. He had seen this happen before—the Spirit of the Lord had this effect on many people. Looping his arm quickly behind her, he broke her fall as she descended gently on the grass. Lynn was wearing a dress with a hemline that stopped just above her knees, so to respect her modesty he took off his checkered suit coat and draped it across her legs.
    Then, with one parting glance at a face that conjured up a host of memories he’d tried for years to forget, he calmly strode off into the evening twilight.

Chapter Fourteen
    H E CAUGHT A RIDE BACK into town after flagging down the driver of a passing truck—the locals were extremely hospitable, he was fast discovering. Still, he remained shaken over how much that young blind woman had reminded him of Nina. The physical resemblance had been startling—it was almost as if Nina had a secret twin sister living in South Carolina, though he knew that could not be true. Nina had been an only child.
    He looked down at his hands, surprised to see them shaking ever so slightly. There was a loud ringing in his ears as well, and he felt it becoming difficult to breathe.
    Stop it . . . get a hold of yourself . . .
    The question would not stop ringing throughout his mind—why had he come back to Hope Springs Church? It was the first time he’d ever revisited a church where he’d healed someone previously; ordinarily, he made it a rule never to do that. But he’d felt the leading of the Holy Spirit to come back.
    He was reminded of the words of John the Apostle, writing in his gospel that Jesus
must need
pass through Samaria to minister to the woman at the well. It was a similar, strong compulsion that he had felt—was Lynn to be his own “woman at the well” experience?
    “Hey, the buck stops here,” the truck driver said, stirring the man from his thoughts. “I gotta head on towards Florence, which is goin’ east. You going to Columbia, and that’s the other way.”
    The man nodded, unbuckling his seat belt and reaching for the door’s handle. “Thank you for taking me this far. I appreciate that.”
    “No problem. Happy trails, partner.”
Partner
came out of the man’s mouth sounding like
pahd-nuh
. With a hearty wave, the truck driver pulled away from the road’s shoulder.
    The man stuck his still shaking hands in his pockets and set off in the direction of the bus station. He needed to get to Columbia, and back to Congaree National Park. Above all, he