Something sinister happened inside Dr. Rodriguez' home.

The entire shack shook. The enormous colorful humanoid masks that hung on the walls danced on midair as if some invisible hands pounded them from behind. The backdoor of the shack flew open as a strong gale blew me off balance and I fell backwards on my behind.

"We got to go mom!" I yelled above the cacophony of the whistling wind and the pounding of wood against wood. Despite my constant efforts to catch her attention, mom didn't move.

I watched in horror and amazement as the flames of the candles, sitting above ledges scattered around the house, rose like towers. In an instant, the shack turned into a sauna, but nobody moved from where they were. What's worse, the candle did not melt faster. It remained as it was!

Modern magic was said to exist within the four wooden walls of the humble house of Dr. Rodriguez⁠. Rumors flew about in his involvement of the vodoo arts and spirits. But I knew more than that. It was not spirits he dealt with, the doctor was in pact with demons themselves.

And all those demons were angered... because of me.

Strangling a doll of straw in his right hand, the quack doctor gulped. "I... I..."

The poor man couldn't even utter a single word. I might have angered the said spirits who gave him prosperity, but I had no regrets. After all, I committed no sin. What's wrong with refusing to be healed by a man who chose the path of darkness and dealt with powers he couldn't grasp?

Gripping the small cabinet, I pulled myself to my feet. I reached for mom's sleeve but hesitated. She wouldn't appreciate that. Wincing, I covered my ears and yelled⁠-hoping that my voice was louder than the raging winds. "I'm sorry! I still don't want him to check me!"

Mom's once frantic gaze widened into panic. Her brows scrunched together like sandwich as she cupped her hands over her mouth and screamed. "We're not leaving until you're cured! Do you understand me?"

I sighed in resignation and held on for dear life. The floor and the ceiling swayed side to side as if in tango with one another. The world began to swirl, blended colors melting into the center. I screwed my eyes shut as nausea settled in. Not much I could do now but rely on my God⁠-as I always did. He promised to deliver and He will. No foe too mighty for Him, that I knew.

With a dazzling hope in mind and His promises cuddled in my heart, nothing scared me⁠-not even the fiery rage of an unseen demon.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

A few minutes passed, and the gale died down to a mere breeze. The masks relaxed into soft sways and the floor and the ceiling restored their still frames.

I coughed out a breath I didn't know I was holding. Beads of sweat trickled down my cheeks, grazing the dozen blots of exposed pink flesh. My skin burned more than normal⁠-like a young boy held a melting spoon right on my face. I winced and hissed.

A strange disease found its home inside my body. Nut-sized blisters littered my skin like buttons strewn on white sheet⁠-each one oozed out a pungent greenish liquid as sticky as glue when popped. Not a day passed by without me straining my vocal chords until they are sandpaper, screaming to death. Like burning matchsticks poking me for attention, each exposed skin after a blister popped was a little taste of hell.

This worried the family, but it took mom forever before she convinced me to go and see a great doctor. I expected another dermatologist⁠-smarter than the last ten we visited who didn't even know what was going on inside my skin⁠-not someone relying on vodoo and dark arts of the devil. As a Christian, I knew there are some things in this world that God told us never to deal with.

And this was one of them. Witchcraft.

So with firm resolve, I refused the offer to 'examine' me over and over again. For I knew there was only one healer I need, and that is my Lord and Savior. And I was certain His grace wouldn't work using an enemy-no matter how much this man claimed that his healing abilities came from God.

Dr. Rodriguez's twitching brown eyes landed on mom, who's knees were quaking. "It's time for you to go. A great light shrouds this woman. I can't see anything," he said through gritted teeth. He threw a sideways glance as sharp as daggers at me, but I didn't shrink away.

Mom sat there for a while⁠-with quivering lips⁠-as she averted her gaze to the quack doctor. "But sir Rodriguez, my daughter... May is dying!"

Dr. Rodriguez shook his head. "You don't understand! Her god protects her! The spirits are anxious at the presence of an enemy! You must leave! Now!"

Mom was desperate to argue as she pursed her lips then popped them open. But the quack doctor's unsteady eyes and laced fingers told me that mom was convinced, no amount of words could steer this man away from his decision; not to figure out who cursed me anymore.

I knew from the start that nobody cursed me though. And I thank God that He had once again protected me from the darkness.

I went home that day with a smile on my face⁠-but mom possibly with a heavy heart or a clouded mind.

The events that transpired troubled my parents-why the infamous quack doctor of modern magic was not able to understand what was happening with me. Since then, they had frequent fights with each other when I woke up deep into the night, half delirious from my sleep. They argued whether or not they should wait for my death.

I was barely breathing this time because the searing pain from the growing blot of opened skin grew each day. However, I already gave my life to the Lord. Should He choose to allow death to me now, I had no regrets in life and beyond. I was at peace.

As I accepted my fate, my family didn't.

Mom paced across the living room more often. She cleaned every nook and cranny of the house everyday now-just like she always did when nervous. Dad drank away his problems. He would come home late at night wobbling from his noodle legs. Both would insist to try Dr. Rodriguez again.

I kept telling them the same reason over and over again. "Quack doctors and demons are partners and I don't want to be healed by the likes of them," I would say, "like you saw, he can't heal me because the Lord is more powerful than them. My Lord gave this disease to me for a reason. And I know it's for my own good and the people around me. I trust Him. I will wait until He heals me."

Thankfully, they would drop the topic after that; only to bring it up at a later time.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Two weeks passed and my disease worsened. A mixture of blood and green liquid now oozed from my ears. Something about its stickiness made me gag. The blots on my skin were as large as saucers. I vomited often now too and it was not helping with my mom and dad's anxiety. I could hear soft buzzing and droning of something I couldn't figure out. But that was it. No more shouting, no more hussled steps, no more banging on walls, and slapping faces.

Just when I thought that things quieted down in the family, that they actually accepted and understood that everything was okay, mom barged into my blue winter-themed room one day. She was dragged by the hair by dad. He tried to blink away the ocean of tears brimming his brown eyes as he jabbed his finger into her chest. And mom wept⁠-chest heaving⁠-as one hand clutched her brunette hair and the other cover her tear-stained face. My five year old sister was beside them, bawling with a cherry-red face.

All their mouths moved but I heard nothing. Then it occurred to me, I was deaf.

My vision blurred in and out of focus as I slipped between consciousness. I was crestfallen, gazing at my family's war through squinted eyes. I frowned. I didn't want this image to be the last thing I remembered as I await the resurrection morn. So, I closed my eyes and began to imagine the smiles and the laughter of this once peaceful home. Sleep crept from the corner of my mind as I surrendered with a soft chuckle.

⋅•⋅⊰∙∘☽༓☾∘∙⊱⋅•⋅

Much to my relief, a month after the incident with Dr. Rodriguez, I got out of bed without screaming for the first time in a long time. My skin was flawless-not a trace of scar or impurity from the blisters I had merely three days before. Green goo and blood pooled on my pillow but my ears themselves were spotless.

We never went to any doctor after the quack. What happened to me was both a relief and amazement to my family.

It was nothing short of a miracle!

My entire family was converted to Christianity because of the mountain we overcame with God. I told them about my Lord, who He is to me and what He can do. With open minds, they accepted that only He could pull off such a miraculous feat⁠-especially since they already prepared for my funeral. They understood why I didn't agree to go to the quack.

The house turned a complete three-sixty. They would join me in my evening devotionals and morning prayer⁠-both I did alone a couple of months before. They went to church with me on Saturdays to worship God. Fighting was just a word inside our home and love was in the air which we lived and breathed, the love for God and for each other. Peace was a common thing we treasured and money we understood as something to take care of⁠-that we were stewards of it.

The neighbors noticed the change. They would often ask me what happened with the family and I would often reply with just one word: God.

And now I told the story of how God healed me to our neighbors and my classmate⁠-anyone who knew I was on the brink of death.

To my dismay, many of my classmates and professors didn't believe me. They said the supernatural was a figment of the imagination exaggerated to assist the brain in coping up with an event too hard to make sense of. "To see is to believe," they say.

I never really lived by that quote. Jesus taught me in John 20:29 saying because thou hast seen me, thou hast believed: blessed are they that have not seen, and yet have believed.

Jesus treasured those who believe Him and His word even if they hadn't seen Him personally. Though the world may say that seeing would be the best evidence to prove a claim, Jesus taught that believing first was a sign that we trust what others say, building love and camaraderie. And most of all by believing, we had faith in Jesus and what He said in His book.

Further, Jesus said in John 11:40 that if thou wouldest believe, thou shouldest see the glory of God. So to see something, especially related to God and the spiritual realm, we must believe first. It is a sign of faith.

It was interesting to me that the world spread this quote 'to see is to believe' starting around the industrial period during the rise of machines. But the Bible, a book from the time that steel was something to be discovered hundreds of years into the future, teaches all that 'to believe is to see.' The statements were polar opposites.

Many might not believe my testimony, but to those who did, their lives were changed forever. As they began to open their hearts to God, the Lord opened their eyes to the truth of this world.

And as He fulfilled what he promised, if we believe, we will see; many more miraculous testimonies like what I told the community spread about⁠-stories of faith from men and women that God changed.

┏━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┓
Prompt:

Seeing is not believing
┗━━━━━━༻❁༺━━━━━━┛

What other morals did you learn? Comment below and share with us!

Inspiration:
This is an actual testimony of a friend and a co-worker in the ministry when he refused to be treated by a quack doctor. Though the disease is exaggerated, he just told me he got sick. Quack doctors are very famous here in the Philippines too.

~ for treasure community Monthly Gem Awards ~