The Healer By Chris Rosebrough

I recently watched an expose of a popular TBN preacher/healer. My feelings we're so raw afterward that I decided to write a piece of fiction.
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The arena was packed. It was hot and there was an eager electricity in the air. Everyone knew that something big was going to happen tonight. You could just feel it.
For the last few weeks billboards and signs had been placed all around town announcing the arrival of The Healer. He was going to hold a service of faith, hope and miracles. Everyone, knew about it. Nearly everyone planned to be there.
The Healer had a television show that broadcast all over the world via satellite. He wore expensive suits, had a private jet, slick hair and beautiful teeth.
The Healer always prayed with power and authority. On each show he would receive messages from God telling him about people who were being healed of cancer, pneumonia and other diseases. He was anointed of God and now he was coming to town.
As the arena filled, a careful observer would have noticed that all the people who arrived in wheelchairs or those hooked up to hospital-like support machines were ushered to a special place in the back of the arena. This section was just for them. This section was as far from the stage as you could get. Those in this section thought that The Healer had special plans for them. He did. But it wasn't what they were thinking.
The arena lights went out. There was a collective gasp. The anticipation reached unbearable levels. Then there was a single light on a door. Then you could see him. The crowd erupted in elation. The Healer was there. He was really there! He marched to the stage like a prize fighter. The service had begun.
First there was singing and praying. Then there were words of power and wisdom. Then an offering was taken. The buckets were overflowing. Then The Healer looked to heaven as if to say, “Thank you Father”. He announced that the Spirit was upon him to heal. He called out healings. A woman with cancer was told that her cancer was gone. A man with AIDS heard the words that he came to hear, “AIDS has left your body”. A woman was told to throw down her cane because her arthritis was no more.
Friends and neighbors were signing, clapping their hands, praising God and weeping. But those in the wheel-chairs in the back of the arena sat in silence. They were alone. No miracles were being announced for them. No healings were taking place in their section of the arena.
Now people were being ushered on to the stage. They were claiming that they had been healed. A woman had energy to dance again, a man said he felt the cancer leave his body. The arena was now in a frenzy. The Healer began touching people and they were falling to the ground. The spirit was moving in power. Everyone could feel it, everyone except those in the back of the arena. Some of them were beginning to pack up and leave. God obviously had no plans to touch them that night. You could see the pain and disappointment on their faces. Those who had brought them had tears in their eyes.
The Healer now began waving his coat at people in the crowd. Whole sections in the arena fell to the ground as if slain by an unseen spirit. The show was building to a crescendo no one knew how much longer this could go on.
Without warning, the lights went out.
The women let out shrieks.
There was murmured silence.
The Healer told everyone not to worry. But his microphone was dead.
There was scrambling on stage.
Then from the back of the arena came a sound. It was a woman praising the Lord and shouting at the top her lungs, “I can walk! I can walk!”
There was a light in the back of the arena. No one had ever seen a light like this.
Then there was another voice. A man could be heard shouting, “I can see! I can see!”
There were sounds of astonishment. There were voices of praise.
The Light spoke with a deep and rich voice filled with love and justice. The whole arena heard him say to a woman in a portable hospital bed, “Daughter your sins are forgiven. Rise and take your bed and go home.” She got up!
A boy with shriveled hands was told to stretch them out and he did. The light grew brighter. The Light looked like a Son of Man. He touched the people in the back of the arena. He kissed them. He loved them. He healed them.
But, The Healer was angry with The Light. Who was this person who’d stolen his thunder? The Healer's microphone clicked back on and a few of the stage lights flickered back to life. The Healer shouted at The Light with an angry voice. “How dare you come in here and disrupt my service. I am an anointed healer of God.”
The Light ignored The Healer as he put his hands on a small child who was breathing on a respirator. The machine vanished and the girl took a deep breath. Her eyes brightened and she threw her arms around The Light and kissed His beard.
The Healer’s voice was now shrill, “You have no business being here. I command you to leave this place at once!”
The Light turned to look at The Healer. The Healer had a sinking feeling in his stomach. The Light began walking toward the stage. The crowd parted effortlessly before him. You could still hear the people in the back of the arena singing and praising God.
The Light approached the stage and stopped three rows back. His eyes were locked with The Healer’s. The Healer was nervous and sweating. The Healer's voice cracked as he shouted, “In the Name of Jesus Christ I demand to know who you are!”
The Light answered, “I am.”
The Healer was thrown back. He landed on the drum set with a crash. A symbol rolled off the stage and into the crowd.
The Healer stood up and shook himself off. His cheek was bleeding. Fire was in his eyes.
He marched back to the edge of the stage. Lifted his finger as if he were going to scold a child. He was about to say something but then he noticed that his hand was snowy white and leprous. In a panic he hastily looked at his other hand. Dread over took him when he discovered that it was leprous too. The Healer let out a shriek.
The crowd gasped.
The Light vanished.
The Healer ran off the stage, wailing.