Tears In Daddy’s Eyes
by Lynn Ridenhour
And the lame shall leap . . .
Ok: it’s the late ‘80s. And
we’re in Cincinnati, Ohio, attending a weekend “CCC Rally” with Wade
Hankins. Though I’m not RLDS, Wade, a Seventy in the RLDS Church, had asked
me to come along. I said I would. “CCC” stands for “Contemporary
Christian Center.”
The RLDS Church was experimenting in the late ‘80s with an alternative style
of worship—geared primarily to non-churched young people. Worship services
were known as “free-style” with lots of singing praises, uplifted hands,
hand-clapping, and, at times, the movement and manifestation of the gifts of
the Spirit; i.e., healings, demonic deliverances, miracles, and experiencing
the Pentecostal phenomenon as recorded in Acts chapter two. (Ala-Kirtland!)
Sure enough, when the five of us pulled up in the church parking lot, I could
hear music coming from the open windows. We got out of the car and walked
inside. I immediately noticed the dress—casual. We were dressed casual.
Pretty soon the service began. Brother Hankins asked me to sit up front with
him. A projector was turned on, and the words of a song flashed on a screen up
front, big enough for all to see. No hymn books. And no inhibitions. Here I
was, standing in the middle of a group of people whose average age was late
twenties, looking, watching as eyes began to close, heads began to point
upward, voices began to blend, and arms began to raise.
The atmosphere wasn’t routy, frenzy-like, or irreverent. Actually, the mood
was quite serene. And you know what? I was beginning to loosen up and enjoy
it. Besides, I noticed—no one was paying any attention to no one, but
everyone seemed to be self-absorbed—directly connecting with the Spirit of
God. So…it wasn’t long and I joined in. I worshipped too.
....And witnessed the most wonderful experience.
We continued to sing and worship. Testimonies were alive and fresh. A short
message by Brother Hankins was given. Then ministry began! That’s what got
me. These young people acted as though God would answer their prayer requests…right
then. That afternoon.
I can still see the lady. I’m guessing she’s in her early 40s. No doubt
she had been deeply moved by the worship. She was in tears. We were huddled
around her—about ten of us. She sat in a chair and told her story. Just
recently she had been diagnosed with breast cancer. It was serious. The cancer
had spread to her lymph nodes. And she had a lump on her left breast. She
mentioned that she was Jim Balwin’s sister. I couldn’t believe it. Jim was
a friend of mine! Small world. Jim lives in Kansas City.
Brother Hankins asks one of the girls to move closer. Then he asks the girl to
lay her hand on the woman’s breast, and he placed his hand on the girl’s
hand. And began to pray. Wade cursed the lump “…in the name of Jesus…”
and commanded it to dissolve. There was a gasp, a sob, and a break in Wade’s
prayer. Everyone looked up. I did too. The woman was crying, really crying.
And the girl who had laid her hand on the woman’s breast was visibly shaken.
Then I heard the woman softly say these words, “....it’s shrinking.”
Now I was crying.
Jim’s sister went back to her doctor. No lump and no cancer.
But that’s not all that happened that day. During pot luck we all sat around
in different rooms, visiting. I was getting acquainted with three young
married men. I had never been to Cincinnati. We were chowing down, talking
baseball, when I noticed a three young kids entering the room. Obviously they
had come in to see their dads. I noticed one little lad had a severe limp. He
was so bowlegged. The other little boys were running, jumping, and playing in
circles. The bowlegged little boy climbs up on his dad’s lap while the other
two play. He couldn’t have been over five years old.
I’m telling you—it was one of those moments where a person acts before he
has time to think. I caught myself saying to the father, “....sir, hand him
to me....” I was pointing to his son. I was kind of startled I said it. The
father looked at me—a bit taken, and handed me his son. I sat him on my knee
and said a simple prayer, “....Jesus, please heal his legs.” Those legs
were so crooked.
I looked over at the son’s father. Tears were running down his eyes. I
looked at the other two men—who had tears in their eyes. The father then
said, “....they’re straightening....” All three of us grown men watched
as the Lord began straightening out that little boy’s bowed legs. It took
the Lord about thirty seconds. I set the boy down on the floor with straight
legs, and immediately—I mean, immediately—he ran out of the room, chasing
the two other boys.
The father lost it. His eyes were now water spouts. “That’s the first time
I ever saw my son run.”
I lost it too.
