I went back to the hospital the very next day, and when I walked in, I noticed that one of the beds was empty.
I asked the nurse, “Where did this baby go?”
She told me, “Something happened. The baby was able to go back home, and he was doing well.”
I continued going back to the hospital day after day. Almost every time I returned, I noticed another bed was empty. Each time, I would ask about the child, and I would hear another story of a child who had improved enough to go home.
I kept going back to the hospital until it was time for me to return to the United States.
On the very last day I went to the hospital, I walked into the room—and every single bed was empty.
Every one of those children had been healed and had been able to go home.
As I walked through the door, the telephone rang. The nurse answered it and then said, “Sir, I have a phone call for you.”
I had never told any of the other students or staff that I had been going to the hospital every day to pray for the sick children. This had been something I had been doing quietly, simply because I believed God had called me to pray.
I picked up the phone, and it was the director of the hospital.
He said, “Sir, I don’t know what you have been doing, but whatever you have been doing, I want you to come and share it with us. I have called a meeting of all the doctors and nurses so that you can teach us what you have been doing.”
I had the opportunity to share Jesus with all the hospital and staff that afternoon.
I knew that what had happened was not because of anything I had done. It was God who had answered the prayers. I had simply been obedient to go, pray, and believe Him.