EXPERIENCES - God Heals in His Perfect Timing
A Journey of Faith and Healing
By: Ulysses C. Ybiernas | February 2, 2012
In April 2005, I was gripped by an unrelenting sickness that felt like a shadow of impending doom. Hopelessness weighed on me, suffocating my spirit. What began as a troubling discomfort soon spiraled into a three-year ordeal of unanswered questions and medical mysteries.
I sought relief from countless doctors, each visit ending in frustration. None could provide a definitive diagnosis. Faith healers became my next hope, as I prayed for a miracle to end the torment. The emergency room staff knew me too well; I became a regular visitor, often arriving in distress, gasping for breath and consumed by panic.
Every test imaginable was conducted, MRIs, endoscopies, colonoscopies, you name it. They all pointed to non-terminal conditions: GERD, IBS, dyspepsia, hyperacidity, dizziness, migraines, and insomnia. But these diagnoses felt inadequate. My physical sensations were real: crushing chest heaviness, labored breathing, nervousness that left my limbs tingling, and even moments when I spit blood.
My digestive system rebelled, forcing me to visit the bathroom multiple times a day, leaving me bloated and uncomfortable. Nights stretched into restless battles with insomnia, while my days were marked by anxiety in public spaces. My children lovingly teased me as a "killjoy," unaware of the silent war I was fighting within.
Despite reassurances from doctors that I was not facing a life-threatening illness, the endless cycle of seeking answers turned me into a hypochondriac. My desperation led me to undergo a hemorrhoidectomy and accept various treatments, but nothing brought lasting relief.
When my symptoms defied medical explanation, doctors began attributing them to anxiety and panic attacks. They suggested I see a psychiatrist, which I reluctantly did. The antidepressants prescribed left me feeling shaky, my muscles trembling uncontrollably. I questioned my sanity, wondering if I was losing my mind.
In my despair, I turned to spiritual healers, seeking solace beyond medicine. I joined charismatic groups, praying and praising God fervently. One healer performed a spiritual deliverance, claiming to see spirits leaving my body as she prayed. She insisted on seeing physical changes in me as she worked, offering a glimmer of hope that perhaps the source of my suffering was finally being addressed.
Today or seven years later, I can now confidently say that I am in good health. Yet, the true source of my recovery remains a mystery known only to God. Whether it was the prayers, the treatments, or a combination of both, I believe firmly that God’s hand was at work, in His own Perfect Timing.
God has a perfect timing, never too early, never too late. It takes a lot of patience and a lot of wait but its worth the wait.
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