by Kenneth Copeland
I’ll never forget the first time I saw cancer bow its knee to the mighty Name of Jesus. It was in 1967, in the invalid tent at one of Brother Oral Roberts’ healing meetings. I hadn’t expected to be in the tent that day. Green as a gourd when it came to ministry, as a recent addition to Brother Roberts’ flight team I’d just expected to be his transportation. But instead I’d found myself ministering to the sickest group of people I’d ever seen.
Initially, I had simply been told to stir up their faith.
I was just supposed to recap the healing message Brother Roberts had preached in the main service, and then he would come in to pray for them.
When Brother Roberts showed up, however, he informed me I’d be the one doing the praying and the laying on of hands. Then, seeing all the color drain out of my face, he assured me he’d be right there to correct me if I messed up.
The first person we ministered to was an emaciated-looking woman who was lying on a little canvas army cot. So weak she couldn’t even sit up without her nurse’s help, she’d been so eaten up with stomach cancer she was just skin and bones, except for her tummy which pooched out with a tumor so big it made her look pregnant.
I knew Brother Roberts taught that when ministering healing it’s important to establish a point of contact when releasing faith, and since I’d been studying about the power of the Name of Jesus I used that as my point of contact. I reached out and as I laid my hand on the woman I began to say, “In the Name of Je—”
Before I could finish, Brother Roberts’ voice boomed out from behind me. “IN THE NAME OF JESUS,” he roared, “whose I am and whom I serve: You foul, unclean spirit, come out and take your hands off God’s property!”
Instantly, the woman blew that tumor out on the floor. She jumped up off the cot and screamed, “I’m healed!” and took off running around the room. Her nurse went chasing after her, afraid that any second she might die, and I just stood there big-eyed, marveling at the power of Jesus’ Name.
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