My Testimony

© 2003 - Present -  Phyllis D. Jolliff

God Moves in the Mountains (My Salvation)

     I was raised in church.  In fact, my dad was a preacher, so I was in church for every service unless I was sick.  And I had to be extremely sick to be able to miss!  But being raised to believe in God and having a personal relationship with God are two very different things.  Oh, I believed in God, don’t get me wrong.  I even prayed…especially before going to sleep at night.  I had the head knowledge, but not the heart knowledge.  I even managed to play the part of a good little preacher’s daughter.  After all, I had spent many years perfecting my act. 
     When I was eighteen years old, I left home to go to a Christian college.  Not that I was a Christian, but I went there just to make my parents happy about me leaving home.  I even lied on my application to get in because I had to write an essay about how I became a Christian.  But I had to get away from home, yet didn’t want to hurt my parents.  So Christian college it had to be.
     Just after school started, there was an All-School Retreat up in the mountains.  I had already made several friends, and knew the weekend in the mountains was going to be a blast.  I had no idea.  My new friends...were Christians.  True Christians.  They believed in the power of God.  They believed He could heal.  They took, quite literally, Matthew 18:19-20 where Jesus says, "Again, I tell you that if two of you on earth agree about anything you ask for, it will be done for you by my Father in heaven.  For where two or three come together in my name, there am I with them."  So they planned to meet before every chapel service to pray for the service, each other, and just about everything they could think of.
     Well, guess what.  They thought I needed to join them.  Whether they somehow knew that I was running from God in my heart, I may never know.  But God used the fact that I had lied about being a Christian to get me right smack dab in the middle of a very enthusiastic group of young Christian women.  God knew what He was doing.  My friends expected me to be there.  They expected me to join them in sincere prayer.  They expected me to believe with them for the things they were praying about.  I couldn’t tell them “no.”  I couldn’t tell them at this point that I wasn’t the Christian I said that I was.  I couldn’t let them see through my façade.  So I joined them.
     We prayed for everything!  We named off every person we could think of, and then added the extras of which we didn’t know their names.  We prayed for the moving of the Spirit in the services and in each of our lives.  And somewhere in those prayers, God got through to my heart, and to my head.  Somewhere during those prayers, the Holy Spirit moved in my soul, and I quit running…began to surrender to God’s will.  Then I began to see the miracles.
     One of the girls in our group had been on a certain medication most of her life, and according to doctors would have to be on it for the rest of her life.  She hated taking this medication.  She didn’t want to have to rely on this medication to keep her functioning.  So we prayed.  We gathered around this friend in the middle of the amphitheater, laid hands on her, and prayed for her healing from this major medical problem and deliverance from the dependency on this medication.  God heard our prayers.  God answered.  Last I heard, she never had to go back to that medication.  God had completely healed her.  My feeling was that God had listened to ‘my prayer.’  I didn’t understand why He would listen to me, but He had.  And He had healed my friend.
     If you think that got us excited, you are absolutely correct!  After that, we met every chance we had to pray.  Our prayers became more intense, more fervent.  We meant to get to the heart of God.  We each knew of needs and we prayed for them.  We prayed more diligently for the lives of each person attending that retreat.  We were bound as one in our desire to see God move in those mountains.
     When Saturday afternoon came and we met once again in the amphitheater to pray for the next service, the presence of God was real.  He spoke to each one of us with the same urging to go into the chapel and anoint the chairs, the instruments, the altar, and even the doors with oil.  So we moved together to fulfill that urging of the Spirit.
     Once in the chapel, we got the oil and again prayed together for God’s leading.  Then we dispersed as we felt led to go and anoint different areas of the chapel.  Some started anointing the chairs.  Others began with the podium and instruments.  At least one anointed the door frame and door handle, praying for each soul that entered, and rebuking satan in the process.
     Most of the others had finished the anointing, and were on their knees in various places, pouring their hearts out to God.  I was walking at the back of the chapel, heading toward the doors, my head down, my eyes closed.  I was still about fifteen to twenty feet from the tall, white double doors when I felt and heard the urging to look up at the doors.  The sight I beheld stopped me in my tracks.  I saw two angels, one on each side of the double doors.  They were more beautiful than mere words can begin to express.  Their robes were a brighter white than I had ever seen.  Their hair seemed to be a cross between golden and brilliant white.  I was not able to make out their facial features, only the glow.  A glow so intense it was almost blinding.  They held long swords crossed in front of the doors.  I heard the Lord speak softly to me, “No evil shall enter here.  My children are safe.”  My reaction?  Simply, “WHOA!”  Then the vision disappeared.  I dropped to my knees and surrendered everything to my Lord.
     What lasted only seconds has remained burned in my memory for many years.  My life was forever changed that weekend.  I surrendered, and God showed me His glory.  Do I still have struggles?  Of course I do!  Jesus said in John 16:33 that in this world we will have trouble.  But I hold to what I saw that September evening.  For I believe that God’s message to my spirit was not merely speaking of that chapel, nor just that night.  I believe He was speaking of my life…of your life.  He has given His angels charge over us.  We are His children.  So when I am troubled…when you are troubled…remember the words God spoke.  “No evil shall enter here.  My children are safe.”
     Let God move in your mountains!  

My God is Amazing (My Healing)

     Some of you know how this journey began, but for those who don’t, I’ll give the background story.  In October 2006, I broke the scaphoid bone in my left wrist and had to have a screw put in the bone.  After a few months of sickening pain and therapy, I found out the screw had been put in wrong…which caused more damage and a nervous system disorder called Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy (RSD).  Three more surgeries by a hand specialist (removing 3 small bones and all the nerves in my wrist) and countless hours of physical therapy later, there was nothing more they could do.  The constant pain continued, and I had lost almost all use of my left hand…which had been my dominant hand for almost 40 years.  I had to learn how to be right-handed, pretty much one-handed.  The RSD caused muscle/bone deterioration, constant burning (sometimes stabbing) pain, and deformity.  My mask of “calm, cool, and collected” began to slip a little because I couldn’t hide this pain, but God gave me emotional and spiritual strength every day I would let Him…and checked me every time I let my pride keep me from asking for or accepting help.  There were many days when “poor me” was all I could manage, but my perspective began to change as I thanked God that I still had a hand…I’m just vain enough to want it there even if it looks funny and hurts all the time.
     In 2012, the RSD and all its loveliness spread throughout my body (inside and out), hitting my legs and all of my old injuries very hard.  Everything burned.  Everything was weak.  I couldn’t wear my normal clothes.  It felt like my knees were on a swivel and they refused to cooperate, making it impossible to walk without assistance.  I used walls and a cane just to make it from one spot to the next in my house, fighting with every movement not to fall.  I learned the art of cane dancing!  I should have been in a wheelchair a lot sooner than I was, but denial and pride wouldn’t allow it until there was no choice.  So I borrowed a manual wheelchair that I couldn’t wheel around by myself because my left hand didn’t work, but eventually got a power wheelchair.  Almost every day, I would try to walk normally down my hall where it was a bit safer, but my body wouldn’t cooperate.  The hardest part was watching my husband having to deal with me in that condition…he wanted to fix me, but couldn’t.  Sometimes I think he had the harder battle, because I had peace.  I’ve always had faith that God could heal me, and would do so at His chosen time (whether in this lifetime or the next).  I have always prayed for God’s will in this illness, that He would bless others through it, and would give me strength to deal with the pain.  Through all the rollercoaster of pain and emotions, I became more spiritually steady than I had ever been!  I can honestly say I knew God was in control and had a plan.  I truly learned that “peace that passes all understanding.” 
     Monday night, May 20, 2013, the pain level rose to a point that even the narcolepsy medicine I take at night to sleep couldn’t put me out.  I literally felt like I was going to explode.  I finally prayed, “Help me.”  I eventually got a little bit of sleep, but was exhausted and hurting badly the next day.
     Tuesday night, May 21, 2013, the pain level rose to the same point as the night before, if not higher.  Again, I felt like I would literally explode.  I couldn’t sleep.  I dozed in and out, barely sleeping until I got up to take the second dose of narcolepsy medicine.  I sat in the bathroom in tears and prayed, “God, I want Your will.  You’ve given me strength every day to deal with the pain.  But God, I can’t take this.  Please.  I need relief.  God, I want your will, but please take this pain.”  I went back to bed, still hurting and still praying.  I finally slept.
     Wednesday morning I woke up, and my right shoulder was killing! I couldn’t figure out why, since I had been sleeping on my left side, as usual.  I could barely move my right arm.  I picked up my cane, but couldn’t put weight on it because my shoulder hurt so much, so leaned on it less and used the walls to help.  Later that day, on one of my careful trips down the hall, I heard that soft urging voice say, “Try it now.”  So I tried.  And for the first time in almost a year, my legs moved correctly!  The pace was very slow, the cane sort of dragging on the floor.  I did that the rest of the afternoon, sitting to take a break often.  I still took my chair to church that night.  I think…no, I know…part of me was fearful of falling…of failing.  I didn’t even tell Dave until that night after church.
     Thursday morning, I carried my cane down the hall (shoulder still hurting), got to the kitchen to get my coffee, and heard, “Really?  Why are you carrying that cane around?  What more do I have to do?”  So I leaned the cane by the cabinet and walked away with my coffee.  All day I walked around in the house without the use of the cane.  The pace was still slow, but I was actually walking.  Each time fear of falling would try to push in, that soft voice would whisper, “FAITH!”  I would keep walking.  At some point, I moved the cane to lean against the couch, and started to grab it out of habit when I got up to do something…and quickly threw it down in disgust with myself.
     When I went to bed that night, I took the cane and leaned it in the corner by the headboard where I put it every night.  Friday morning I woke up, looked at the cane, smiled and said out loud, “You can stay there!”  It’s still sitting there!  Then, while trying to figure out what to wear, I saw a pair of lightweight denim jeans I hadn’t been able to wear without them causing great pain, and felt urged to put them on.  They didn’t hurt!  It was like I couldn’t sit still that day!  I had praise music on and spent the day praising and worshipping and walking…in my jeans!!
     So Sunday morning, the power wheelchair and the cane stayed home…and I walked into church, up the three steps into the sound booth to run the computer!!  My God is AMAZING!! But He didn’t stop there!
     During one of the previous days I looked at my left hand, and said, “God, I know this hand will never be the same, but thank You for letting me walk.”  Sunday afternoon, I walked around in the garage while Dave cleaned and organized stuff in there.  I walked up and down the driveway just because I could!  I won’t say there was absolutely no pain, because there was, but not the same.  I felt urged at one point to try once again to put my wedding ring on my left hand, something I hadn’t been able to do since 2006 without causing immediate excruciating pain that would last for days.  I went to my room, took out my wedding ring, placed it carefully on my left ring finger, and waited…and waited…and waited.  The pain never came!  I looked at my hand and stretched my fingers out then curled them to make a fist…without pain.  I tried writing, and I could write!  I tried typing, and I could type…I’m once again left-handed!!  Did I say God is AMAZING?!
     I’ve asked God many times over the last several months why I still have some pain and some RSD symptoms when I know without doubt that He worked miracles in my body.  He finally let me see the reason just a couple hours BEFORE I was asked to give this testimony at Retreat.  The reason:  the mild remaining pain and few symptoms remind me of where God brought me from.  And I can continue to walk in faith.

Psalm 23:3-4 (NLT)
He renews my strength. He guides me along right paths, bringing honor to his name.
Even when I walk through the darkest valley, I will not be afraid, for you are close beside me. Your rod and your staff protect and comfort me.
 
     Since the writing the article in 2014 about my healing, God has continued to do amazing things in my life.  He has allowed me to do little things that I couldn't do for all those years of not being able to use my left hand.  I cry every time I peel potatoes, because it's something I couldn't do and God has allowed me to do now,  I'm so thankful for all of the things He's done!
     I'm now learning to play the piano and the guitar!  I will continue to proclaim that My God is AMAZING!!
Search