I stood surrounded by thirty thousand others, watching the impossible. The biggest tent in the world soared seventy feet above me. Outside, Soweto, South Africa. Inside, holy chaos. People danced. People jumped and sang and praised God, their faces alight. No one praises God like Africans. Too reserved to join in, I merely grinned.
Then I heard these words. “Now put your hand in the air.” In the row in front of me, a girl of about twelve raised her right arm. An older African man stood facing her, smiling. “No, not that one, the other one,” he told her.
The girl’s left arm was twisted and withered. She turned to look at it. A frown clouded her face. She held her breath and her mouth tightened. Her left arm quivered, the fingers straightened and the arm grew. Her eyes opened in astonishment. Within ten seconds the arm appeared normal.
The tears that changed my life
I was a scientist. Miracles had explanations. Arms don’t grow. She must have a real arm underneath, and the crippled one is a toy. She must have a balloon in the shape of an arm. She must have, she must have . . . my set mind scavenged for plausible solutions.
Standing beside the girl, a lady stared at her, a picture of radiant joy. Tears cascaded down her cheeks and dripped off her chin. She wrapped the girl in a wild hug.
Those tears nailed me.
How hard it is to change our minds! “Be transformed by the renewing of your minds,” the Lord tells us. “Set your minds on things above,” he says. God is bigger than our imaginations. He created the universe. He knows how to grow an arm―and recast the concrete of our minds.