The doctors at Moorfields were unsure what had caused the infection in the optic nerve of my left eye, but they were quite clear that the damage was irreversible.
“Nerve damage doesn’t recover,” they explained. I was awaiting the results of scans etc. and they seemed concerned that the problem might be something even more serious. My focus adjusted to make up for the lack, but I was reminded of the damage every time something obscured my right eye’s vision.
This was back in the time of the protests against the war with Iraq and my, then teenage, daughters really wanted to add their support. There was a problem though. The protest was the same day I would receive my results from Moorfield and to cancel/postpone would mean up to a six-week wait for a new appointment. Before I knew the date, the Lord had shown me to take a painting of Jesus as our placard with the words “Jesus was the prince of peace not of war” in reference to the US president’s supposed Christian stance. It was a good angle and was actually featured in an interview with a local news channel, but that’s another story.
I was torn between what I felt the Lord wanted me to do and getting the results I was fretting over. When I took it to the Lord His answer was clear and revealing. “Whatever it is wrong with your eyes do you think the doctors can fix it?” he asked. The answer was simple. It was clear to me that they couldn’t. There was no question in my mind. I knew God was my only hope. To be clear, there was no promise of healing if I went. It was merely a question of where my faith lay. What was most important to me? Since I had zero faith in the doctor’s ability to help, dedicated though they were, the choice was easy – I went.
Meeting up with a friend we took the London underground to the starting point. It was when I took a drink from my bottled water it happened. Always when I drank the cup/bottle obscured the vision of my good right eye, but I realized in shocked amazement that my vision was clear. Incredulous, I told my friend. “Something’s happened, I can see clearly, my eye isn’t blurred.” I think he was faster to believe than I was. It was so totally unexpected. I began covering my right eye to be sure, but there it was, the cloudiness was gone and remained so from that day on. (later optician appointments confirmed – the scarring was totally gone!) Two folks in the carriage were looking on, wondering what the commotion was about. My friend eagerly jumped in, explaining I had just been healed of an incurable affliction, and soon, overwhelmed by the evidence before their eyes, two more people entered the kingdom.
That day we marched with an enormous crowd of protestors from all walks of life, from old gentlemen with canes to tattooed punks and skinheads. We were of one mind, one heart, and for once I was proud to be British, to stand up for the right. Yet over and beyond it all my heart swelled with joy, for I knew, though our power may not prevail that day (and sadly it didn’t) there was a God with power above and beyond the capabilities of man.
Josephine Wilkinson 