Amazing Grace

Now that you have read about the faithfulness of our God in healing (under the Angel Section), I have an absolutely extraordinary story to add to your wonder of and praise for our great Father, His Son – our Brother – Jesus, and our startlingly powerful friend – the Holy Spirit.

This comes from a young family, with three “wee” children, who are called to missionary outreach in Africa. Their names are Clint and Tara Moseley. This is their story:

FRIDAY, MARCH 23, 2018:

At 4 p.m. on Friday, my husband, Clint, was critically injured in a self-defense jujitsu training – a total freak accident of a move gone wrong during a demo. There was severe blunt force trauma to the throat to the point that Clint’s life could never be the same.

I was home with the kids, we have a 3, 1 and 6-week-old, so he went to the ER that is closest to us. I met him there as soon as I could at 9:30 p.m. I didn’t know what to expect other than a text I got from him that said, “I think I broke my windpipe. This is very bad. Going to ER.” When I walked into the room I found Clint white as a sheet, struggling to breathe, drooling, unable to swallow, swollen, and on the verge of losing consciousness from the amount of excruciating pain he was in. His neck and back were so swollen it looked like he had football pads under his skin. I had never seen him like this and immediately I recognized this for what it was: an attack from the enemy to take him out. This wasn’t a broken arm, a sickness, or a kidney problem – this was a straight attack from Hell to eliminate my husband and his ability to speak. Anyone who knows our story knows that in the last 16 months we have taken the biggest step of faith of our lives and following the voice of the Lord to run our non-profit, Project R12, full-time as a family. The warfare has been strong but the journey has been full of the power and miracles of Jesus, but that’s another story of it’s own.

When I saw Clint, I knew I had to make a choice: I could crumble or I could hold onto the promises of God for my husband and our lives. I chose the latter which meant that at no point in this process was I going to let myself or Clint partner with anything but life and life abundant for him (John 10:10). We both invited Holy Spirit to come and change the atmosphere and bring healing. Over the last year we’ve come to know the Holy Spirit as a friend, a person, our advocate, and the greatest gift Jesus left to be with us when He went to Heaven. He wasn’t an “aura” or “a feeling” – He is a person and so we invited Him into that room to bring healing and the radical peace of His presence. We didn’t know how serious anything was yet medically but regardless we weren’t going to change our stance: miracles, total healing, victory.

They gave him morphine for the pain but it didn’t do anything, the pain was too intense. Next, they took him for a CAT scan and it revealed severe trauma to the esophagus and trachea to the point his chest cavity, heart, neck and back were full of air bubbles which meant there was a hole/tear in the esophagus or trachea. They were not equipped to handle a traumatic injury of this level – it was too fragile of an injury that he needed to be taken via ambulance to Vanderbilt ER with the trauma team. This was an injury that could change or ultimately take his life. Again, this was a moment we had to choose how to react. The attending doctor told me the “reality” of an injury like this: feeding tubes, 6-inch incision through the neck, breathing tubes, a tracheostomy, infection that can often lead to death, a 24-hour timeline to respond… the list goes on. Since Clint was in such a medically stressed state I knew I had to stand strong for the both of us, I could not crumble now. I politely thanked him and said, “Thank you but I do not receive that for my husband.” He probably thought I was in shock and denial and wanted to make sure I knew that this was the “reality” of Clint’s situation. This was the truth, the CAT scans and testing showed it… but I knew this wasn’t the reality of the promises and truth declared over Clint’s life. THAT was what I was going to declare and speak out – not the current situation he was in. Words hold tremendous power and I knew the power of speaking LIFE would shift atmosphere.

Saturday, March 24, 2018:

They took him to Vanderbilt in an ambulance around 1 a.m. with the prognosis of a “perforated esophagus” and wanted the Trauma Unit ready. Again, we did not accept this diagnosis. We accept total healing and nothing else. Since we had a newborn at home, I had to go between Vanderbilt ER and our home in Franklin every 2½ – 3 hours to feed the baby and be with Clint. So, over the next 20 some hours, I would travel back and forth only letting myself think and speak out LIFE over my husband and nothing else.

They ran a gamut of tests from multiple CAT scans to swallow tests to scoping his airways – they did neck and chest x-rays. As I sat next to him holding his hand, whispering the truths I knew about him for his life, I could hear the gurgling and popping of air bubbles in his neck and chest. It sounded like a soda can opening. The doctor came in and said, “Well we have really bad news – you’ve got mass amounts of air trapped in from your neck to the lower of your chest cavity. We are trying to find out where all the leaks are, from your trachea to your esophagus. The reality is if we do surgery you’ll have a 6 to 7-inch incision in your throat and we will try and close up the holes…” It went on but I’ll spare you the details.

I saw the look in Clint’s eyes after she read the prognosis and I could see fear and anxiety trying to make its way into his heart and mind – but together we quickly shut it down. It was a team effort, he needed me and I needed him. It was the interweaving of the promises of marriage in its finest hour.

Clint’s friends came in and laid hands and prayed for him. At this point, he was in and out of consciousness and heavily sedated because of the pain. I had decided to post on social media what we were going through because we both knew the power of prayer. The response was incredible. There were hundreds if not thousands of prayers going up for Clint from Africa to Alaska. People were stopping, interceding, and asking for healing for him. It’s not just a sweet slogan, “I’m praying for you” – it’s a battle cry. Heaven came into that hospital room and the power of God began to manifest itself in the form of signs and wonders. Here are just a few: the temperature of the room was incredibly hot, so hot that we were sweating and taking off all we could. The heat was stifling and I asked the nurse about this and she said no this is highly unusual – it’s usually very cold in the rooms. The heat followed us wherever we took Clint which is a very common sign of healing – the fire of God was burning in that room. Even highly sedated and coming in and out of consciousness, Clint kept telling me, “Jesus is healing me, I can feel it, He is healing me.” We experienced unprecedented delay in getting from the ER to the Trauma Unit to the point of frustration but looking back we realized without the delay, Clint’s friends wouldn’t have been able to come in and pray for him. They prayed in the Spirit and spoke into existence things not as they were currently but as they should be – holes closing, air leaving, cells fully functioning, Heaven was responding.

As Clint lay there I could hear him praying for the people around him. Even in the state he was in, he was choosing to praise, to worship, to believe that our God was going to and will save Him. I joined him in this praise and I truly believe that worshipping even in this state of crisis broke the back of the enemy. It was a key move in our victory. We took authority over the spirit of death, sickness, infirmity, and we commanded it to leave – it has no place here. We were constantly waring, declaring and fighting for him… welcoming Heaven and believing it would invade his body restoring it back to perfect, beautiful health.

MIRACLE 1

Together we went back to the x-ray room for a fluoroscopy – basically he would drink this dye and they would then do an x-ray that would show the leaks and where they are. This was a big, important test. Normally, they wouldn’t let anyone into the room prior to the test- but because things were delayed I was able to. Again, this was a choice, we had to declare healing and life over these test results. These results would dictate whether or not they proceeded to perform surgery on his esophagus. I left the room and they did the testing. I watched the XRAY sign go from white to red as they took the images – with each flash I thanked Jesus for the healing and what only He could do. When the tech opened the door he burst out, “There’s no holes! It’s perfect! No leaking!” – healing was now becoming real.

We had climbed from the valley of the SHADOW of Death to the Mountain that is higher than all of this. The “Esophageal Tear” was no longer there – healed. We were gaining momentum and we both could feel it, Jesus was doing this. I was updating people via text and social media and the comments and encouragement were like fuel in the fire – we had what felt like, not a village but a nation behind us. There was an atmosphere for miracles being cultivated in that little room.

The doctors were baffled so they wanted to do another CT scan (his third) because it wouldn’t be possible to have this much air without multiple tears. I had to go home to feed the baby, get all my babies ready for bed, and make sure my mother-in-law was hanging in there. Every time I got in the car to drive home, the Enemy would attempt to tear me down but I took every thought captive and clung to the promises and miracles I had already seen happen. While I was gone, Clint finally moved from the ER room to his “permanent” room in the Trauma Unit, this was around 4 p.m. on Saturday. Here is where he would stay for the next days and weeks as we fought this battle for his life, but really, this is where everything changed. I had watched as Clint had progressed over the course of the last 20 something hours – his color was changing, his countenance was coming back, he was taking less and less pain meds, test results were being changed… things were being flipped upside down.

The trauma unit was not somewhere you wanted to be – the floor was a place of incredibly serious injuries, many of which were too gruesome to even mention. It wasn’t a floor you are only in for a couple of hours and certainly not one that you would be able to walk out of as the patient.

As I walked down the hall to Clint’s room, I realized how much he no longer fit into this floor. He was now not on any pain medicine and was walking around on his own and asking the nurses when he was able to eat. The nurses didn’t know how to handle him as they are not accustomed to a patient “this whole and healthy” on their floor. They kept checking his chart to make sure he was in fact Clint Moseley. The doctors were completely and totally at a loss for explanation so they wanted to just continue to monitor him before they came up with a solid course of action. They kept referring to him as a “really lucky guy” and “one of the fastest healing bodies” they have ever seen. Rather than coming in with solemn looks on their faces, they were smiling ear to ear as they observed his injuries that were no longer there. It was like nothing had ever happened to him.

The ENT doctor came to see him to do a minimally invasive scope of his trachea to try and locate some of the tears and holes that leaked all of the air in his chest and body. To her surprise, she could not find any holes. It was as if there had never been any type of trauma. In fact, his “trachea was beautiful and perfect looking.” Again, a baffling result.

SUNDAY, MARCH 25th, 2018:

The top doctors’ group from all the different clinics – Trauma, Critical Care, Thoracic, etc. – came into Clint’s room Sunday morning (by the way they nicknamed his room, Miracle 26 Room) and marveled over what is “medically not possible”. They listed off all of the trauma that Clint came to the ER with along with the level of severity for each injury and then simply said: “There is no sign of any type of trauma – he is completely healed. We are going to call this a MEDICAL ANOMALY”. Two hours after the doctors came to marvel over him, Clint signed his discharge papers and WALKED out of the Trauma Unit. No wheelchair, no breathing tubes, no scars, no medical procedure, no prescription for pain medicine, no orders for a follow up – he walked out as if he had never even walked in there. He was whole, healed, and a living breathing testimony of the power of God TO HEAL.