Tornado in Tallahassee

By Greg Moore

Tornado sirens kept many awake last night. Rain fell. The sky lit up. Trees crashed to the ground. And today, an eerie calm rests heavy as neighboring communities begin their clean up.

It took me back in time...

My first husband, Jason, was diagnosed with a brain stem tumor when he was 18 years old. Radiation and prayer stopped growth for a miraculous amount of time. During that time, we met and enjoyed several years together before symptoms hinted it might return. After our wedding and the birth of our two sons, an MRI confirmed change and doctors gave him two to three years at most.

Medical options were limited. So we prayed. And prayed. And after a few months chose to see a doctor at Duke who suggested chemo. Jason chose the chemo regiment, knowing it might only extend his life a few years. So we kept praying. And praying. And in time his name ended up on different prayer lists around the country.

One day, she called. I don't remember her name or how we got on her list. But she called more than once to encourage us and after a few conversations, suggested we attend a healing conference in Tallahassee, FL.

As she described the event, I saw lighting, or fireworks, or perhaps just blackness lit up by bright lights. We didn't have a lot of money but since a clear vision like that was rare for me, we decided to attend and see if it had meaning.

While I can discuss and debate healing from several sides (especially in light of living with mito), I still appreciate the couple who led the conference. I don't follow their teaching these days. But at the time, their message encouraged us to build our faith by declaring the word of God over our lives. Instead of worrying about how I'd survive without Jason for two or three years, the God of the Bible came alive. Scripture breathed life on days I couldn't go on. Hope filled me when fear hovered near. God's love grew stronger than death. And I have "faith movement" messengers to thank, even if I don't hold to their entire doctrine on healing.

That said, we entered the Tallahassee Civic Center the last day of the four day conference, unsure about my vision. Worship began. Praise filled the arena. And then thunder shook the room.

I jabbed my husband, "That's my lighting!"

The music continued. Arms reached to the ceiling. And then the roar of a train came our way. It grew close, swerved away, then came back again... and a third (or more) of the roof flew off the building.

What amazes me still is that nobody screamed, cried out in fear or even moved from their seat. That group of believers stood together, arms raised, rebuking that tornado while declaring the goodness of God - and pulling out their umbrellas. The speaker continued with the service until building administrators insisted we evacuate the damaged area. Everyone filed calmly into a side cement room where a healing prayer line began.

I wish I could tell you Jason was healed that day. He wasn't. But the newspaper later reported that a powerful tornado, that left a path of damage through the city, stopped in its tracks above the civic center.

We lived through a tornado in Tallahassee and experienced first hand what happens when believers come together with a mighty roar of faith.

Oh people of God, let's do it again.