Catching the Wave - Going after Healing

Okay Jake—focus on Jesus. What do you notice?

Her black sweatsuit is soft. She's leaning slightly forward with a cane in her left hand. She's in her late 60s, and her body clearly reflects years of chronic pain, limiting her mobility. My right hand rests on her left shoulder, and Chad moves his hands from her back to her quad, calf, and foot, declaring healing over her. My eyes are closed as I do my best to find God—trying to hear from Him, discern His direction, feel His comfort, and build my faith.

The stage was set. Worship had connected me to God in the way I love. My spirit was stirred by Chad’s words, and the unexpected moment when Chad handedme the mic shifted how I was seen by those present. Now, we were standing close, our faces uncomfortably near, as Chad prayed.

Should I switch hands so we're not nose to nose? Or is there something more powerful about staying here?

Was this an invitation to courage and boldness?

Oh no, I lost focus—where are you God? I don’t want to mess up this healing.

Wait, what am I thinking? I can’t mess up a healing. I'm not the healer; it’s about what He’s doing.

Focus, Jake. Focus on God. Jesus, show me Your face.

Just then, Chad tapped my leg. That’s never happened before, but I knew exactly what it meant: It was my turn. Pray for this woman’s leg to be healed. Partner with Jesus and set her free.

Here’s the thing: I’ve prayed for healing before. It’s not new to me. I’ve added faith to the atmosphere while Whitney prayed, and I believe that’s a big deal. But this—this felt different. Asking someone to trust my boldness and faith for their healing is another level entirely.

Over the past six days, I’ve been in eight meetings where healing was expected. I’ve prayed with Chad for sciatic pain, we prayed to restore movement in a woman’s stroke-affected side, and we prayed for a mother suffering from RA. I even went after healing on my own: migraines, back pain, and a veteran with chronic pain from a metal rod in his femur. I partnered with Jesus every time.

There was a young man in Oahu, Isaiah, who came with 9/10 chest pain. Chad prayed, and it dropped to 2/10, but I could sense an emotional weight holding him back. I didn’t have the boldness to address it.

Chad must have sensed it, too. He declared, "Isaiah, you are a son. God says, ‘You are my son,’" and Isaiah melted into Chad’s arms, overcome with emotion.

God moved. We saw healed hands, corrected leg lengths, and disappearing headaches. But that’s not what I want to write about. I want to write about the partnership. The tension of feeling inadequate, battling shame, and refusing to sit on the sidelines.

I prayed for that woman with sciatica. The pain didn’t leave, and she walked away leaning on her cane. Did I mess up?

My brain darts all over the place:

No. It’s God’s healing, not mine. I don’t want to reduce this to some formula or method. That’s not relationship—that’s manipulation.

So why didn’t He show up? Was it a lack of faith? Was I wrong? Will I try again?

Enough. Here’s what I know: It’s time for this inner dialogue to end. It’s a distraction.

“God, help me.” I’m only here to be with You. I am willing to face the disappointment, not explain it away. I want true revelation of who You are and what You desire when we team up—even if it stings.

As we prayed for the stroke victim, I felt "The Chad Tap" again. Oh No! - My turn.  I spoke directly to the numbness in her leg, feeling God’s pride in my boldness, while also wondering what the woman and Chad thought.

She walked around testing her leg as I moved on to pray for another couple. This time, I was nervous. But I went for it. "What’s going on?" I asked. I prayed and boldly declared, "Amen."

The 'Amen' is the scariest moment—when you ask, “Any improvement?” She moved her shoulder and said, “It’s about 20% better.” Not 100%, but not 0%. That’s something. Jesus was partnering with me to love this woman. So, I prayed again.

Eventually, we stopped at 20%. It wasn’t full healing, but something happened.

Then, there was the veteran with the metal rod. I prayed with authority, feeling the weight of God's presence - whoa, this is different.  Tears are coming out of my eyes as I'm describing theimage of King Jesus that seems to be looking right at us as the veteran bowed lower and lower, weeping. I was overcome with a desire to admonish the pain because, "When the King show up - pain must bow" - I kept repeating it.  I sounded angry.  Meanwhile the man just kept bowing lower and lower until it looked like someone bowing face-down before a king in a movie.  Here's the crazy part.  I didn't even know that the metal rod in his leg prevented him from bending it.  I didn’t realize until over an hour later —his leg was completely healed. HE WAS HEALED!!!  I was shocked.

The shock wasn’t that God healed him, but that God had partnered with ME to do it.

I’m still processing. I’m literally writing this on my flight home before I lose the emotion, but here’s what I know: I brought nothing but willingness and faith.

I prayed for 20+ people to be healed and I was disappointed every time but one - and it was worth the price!!

That’s what I want to release over you now: freedom from the fear of disappointment and an outpouring of bold, outrageous faith.

Disappointment can weigh heavy, but if that’s the price for healing and intimacy with Jesus, I’ll pay it. I’ll honor the discomfort and lay it at His feet. And knowing Him, He’ll call me to step out in faith again soon.

The adventure continues.

Reflection Questions:

1. How do you handle moments of disappointment when praying for healing or stepping out in faith?
2. What does partnering with God look like in your life, even when things don’t go as expected?