Kenneth Copeland Healing -

She took a step. Then another. It was a shuffle, a painful, lurching shuffle. But the crowd didn’t see the pain. They saw the miracle. They saw the suit and the smile and the woman walking. They erupted. The sound was a hurricane of praise.

“Sickness,” he said, his voice a low Texas gravel that poured out of the massive speakers, “is a lie from the pit of hell. And you don’t negotiate with a lie. You don’t ask nicely for a lie to leave. You command it.”

“You,” he said. “The woman in the chair. You’ve been sitting in that lie for eleven years. The Lord says tonight, the anointing breaks the yoke.”

“In the name of Jesus,” he said, not loudly, but the microphone caught every syllable, “I command that crooked spine to straighten. I command the pain to go to the feet of Jesus. Stand up.”

“That’s the lie talking,” Copeland said, and he smiled again. “You can. The healing is already done. You just have to get up and walk into it.”