There are seasons in life that can bring us to our knees — not just because of human frailty, but in surrender to God’s sovereignty.

My struggle with COVID-19 was such a season.

I first tested positive for the virus in July 2021. Like the rest of the world, I was still adjusting to the strange challenges of navigating a pandemic. But nothing could have prepared me for the personal battle ahead.

My body ached, my lungs burned with bilateral pneumonia, and fear gripped my mind as I wondered whether I would survive.

When my blood oxygen dipped into the 80s, the recommended treatment was mechanical ventilation. I refused, believing I would never awaken.

God was near amid my anxiety. Despite my physical affliction, I knew He had not abandoned me. I clung to the words of Psalm 91: “Whoever dwells in the shelter of the Most High will rest in the shadow of the Almighty” (verse 1).

Yet recovery seemed elusive. Long after the initial infection, I struggled daily with migraines, vertigo, nausea, weakness, memory loss, and an inability to retain even basic information.

These symptoms persisted month after month, putting a strain on my family and the congregation I pastored.

My wife, Priscilla, carried most of my load at home and church. She also served as my caregiver, making pharmacy runs, transporting me to doctor visits, and managing my various treatments.

I wrestled with the question of, Why? When prayers seemed to go unanswered, I decided God is still a Healer, but He wasn’t going to heal me. I eventually made peace with that notion, determining I would just have to serve God while sick.

My long COVID symptoms only worsened after I contracted the virus again in December 2022.

Myriad medical consultations yielded few answers. Finally, one doctor advised relocating to a lower elevation. This would mean leaving our home in the Las Vegas area, along with the church we had planted eight years earlier. Still, the suggestion seemed like a small glimmer of hope.

When prayers seemed to go unanswered, I decided God is 
still a Healer, 
but He wasn’t 
going to heal 
me.

After praying and talking with church leaders, we made a temporary move to Houston during the fall of 2023. We retained our pastorate, flying to Las Vegas monthly to preach a service and meet with staff members.

Unfortunately, the move didn’t bring the improved health my family and I hoped for. And in December 2024, COVID struck again — with a vengeance.

This third infection ravaged my already weakened body. The nights were long and filled with intense pain and desperation.

I cried out, “Lord, why again? Haven’t I already endured enough?”

Even in those dark moments, I sensed God whispering His promises to my heart. I recalled the words of Romans 8:18: “I consider that our present sufferings are not worth comparing with the glory that will be revealed in us.”

During the early hours of February 6, I held onto those words until slumber finally overtook me.

While sleeping, I dreamed I was in a hospital operating room. Jesus was the chief surgeon, commanding a large team of physicians who were working on my body, medical instruments in hand.

In my dream, I became aware of heat spreading from my shoulders to my feet.

Noticing Priscilla was also in the operating room, I felt happy she was able to witness what was happening.

With that, I awakened.

I looked at the clock and calculated that I had slept seven hours, though it felt like only a few seconds.

Arising from the bed, I realized something was different. The symptoms were gone! My first thought was, This is what I remember normal feeling like.

My second thought was that I needed to tell Priscilla God had healed me. The only question in my mind was whether she would believe it.

When I entered the room where Priscilla was sitting, our eyes locked. Before I said a word, Priscilla told me God had instantly lifted the pain and weight she had been carrying for more than four years.

What we experienced was not a gradual recovery. It was a supernatural act of grace for my family and me.

My health was completely restored, and my symptoms have not returned.

Since that day, I have carried with me a sense of renewed purpose and deeper awareness of God’s love.

My testimony is not just that God instantly healed me, but He was with me every step of the way.

In the valley of sickness, the Lord was my source of strength. In the confusion of suffering, He was my guide. And in that moment of miraculous restoration, God was my deliverer.

Psalm 30:5 says, “Weeping may stay for the night, but rejoicing comes in the morning.”

I can testify that in the weeping and rejoicing, God is there.

This article appears in the Summer 2025 issue of Influence magazine.