The Healer Was Already There

I am the light of the world. Whoever follows me will never walk in darkness, but will have the light of life.” - John 8:12

Ate Beberly was one of our Bible students. One day, she asked if we could visit her father at their house. Her voice made us stop and listen. "My father has been sick for a year now," she said, her fingers twisting the strap of her bag. "He had a stroke, and it's hard for him to move around. Would you come? Just a foot massage. Anything to ease his pain." My partner (Mark) and I exchanged a glance. Neither of us knew what waited at the end of that road, but we both knew we could not refuse. "We'll come," I said. The next morning, the sun was already cruel at eight o'clock.

Heat shimmered above the dirt path, and the farther we walked, the more the village thinned into silence. Only the crunch of our footsteps and the drone of insects in the tall grass. Between the bushes and the leaning trees, a lone house appeared, swallowed by green, its garden rich with vegetables but strangely still. "That can't be it" my companion whispered. "It's too hidden. Too quiet."

So we kept walking, and the unease walked with us. The road wound deeper, and doubt crept in. Were we lost? At last we found a man resting beneath a tree, and we asked again. He squinted at us, then laughed. "Lumagpas na kayo! Yung may sampalok. Iyon ang kanila!"

Our hearts sank, then steadied. We turned back, and there it stood: the very house we had dismissed, its tamarind tree casting a long shadow across the yard. From the little "dampa" came a faint, crackling melody, a small radio playing softly. Then a voice drifted out.

"Kayo na ba iyon?"

We stepped inside. Kuya Sanny lay on his bed, his body weighed down by illness, but his eyes were warm and alert. "Sinabi na ni Beberly na darating kayo," he said. Relief flooded through us. We sat beside him and began to massage his stiff, weary feet. We checked his blood sugar, holding our breath until the number appeared. Steady. Safe. A week later, we met his wife, Ate Imelda, who watched us with guarded, searching eyes. I gathered my courage. "Ate, Kuya, would you like us to share the Bible with you?"

The silence stretched. Kuya Sanny closed his eyes, and for one long moment, I feared we had overstepped. Then he nodded. "Sige po," Ate Imelda whispered. "Gusto namin iyan." We opened the Bible and the little book Explore, and the first hymn rose softly through the walls of that hidden house.

It felt like a door, long locked, slowly creaking open. Week after week we returned. One afternoon, Kuya Sanny's voice fell to a trembling hush. "Gusto ko nang makalakad ulit. Nababagot na ako rito." "Kuya, kung gusto ng Diyos, magagawa Niya iyon," I said. His eyes shone with hope. "Siya lang ang Doktor na kayang magpagaling ng lahat ng sakit. Sa kamay Niya, walang imposible." Nearly three months passed...

On the day that changed everything, we stopped short at the doorway. Kuya Sanny was smiling, and he lifted his hand with ease. His fingers rose without any burden. "Noon, hindi ko maigalaw ang mga daliri ko," he said, his voice breaking. "Pero ngayon, magaan na. Nakakalakad na ako nang paunti-unti." Happiness filled the little room.

"Salamat sa inyong pagparito kahit malayo" he whispered. "Hindi lang katawan ko ang gumaan. Parang napalapit din ako sa Panginoon." Today, Kuya Sanny still walks unsteadily, needing a little support. But the man who once felt trapped by a heavy body now takes his steps toward the light. Galatians 6:9 became our quiet promise: "Let us not become weary in doing good, for at the proper time we will reap a harvest if we do not give up."

Name: Jessieboy Caberos | 66th Batch | 1000MM

Mission Field: Maniwaya, Sta. Cruz, Marinduque