A Mother’s Determined Faith

On our way from Baldwyn to Baton Rouge, we decided to visit the home of a couple we’d met at a convention in Bardstown, Kentucky.  We visited them at their home and ministered to their local congregation on the way to Baton Rouge.

He had a brother pastoring on the Texas line, midway down the state.  We went there the following Sunday.  Prior to the trip, our pastor had seen a vision of us with a third person traveling with us.

When the service was over an older man with a strong Cajun accent came up and asked if we would still be there Monday morning.  I told him I was not sure.  He said, “Will you at least wait until nine before leaving?”  I said that we would.  I asked him, “But what do you want?”

“I want to come see you,” he answered.  “Why don’t you come back to the evening service?” I asked.  He said that his eyes were bad and he didn’t drive at night.  “Please let me come in the morning,” he pleaded.  I agreed.

An ice storm came in overnight.  We were unable to go anywhere that day.  The Cajun came at nine.  He stepped into our trailer, gave us a nice offering and said, “My name is Henri LeCompe.  I want to give you my testimony and I want you to take me with you.”

He said that when he was fifteen years old he was crippled.  He lived with his mother on one acre with a fence around the acre.  Every day his mother would take him out and lean him against the fence.  Then she would take one foot and then the other.  She would move them forward, forcing him to walk.  Each day she would force him to go a little bit further until, eventually, he was walking around the property.

He said the he would lean against the fence, look up to heaven and ask God to give him the way to walk.  He said, “Now I am sixty years old.  I have walked all these years.  I have never been to a doctor and I take no medicine, not even an aspirin, and I want you to take me with you.  Every where you go tell them about Henri LeCompe.  That way I will be going with you.”

On To Baton Rouge
In Baton Rouge the lady put us up for ten days or so.  She had a service in her home.  She took us to a halfway house for formerly imprisoned women, and also to a home where a couple had a thirteen-year-old boy with paralyzed legs.

I told the boy and his mother the story of Henri Le Compe.  Then Eve and I laid hands on him.  He moved his legs an appreciable distance.  The mother followed us to the SUV as we were leaving.  She said that the boy had not moved like that since he was stricken.  As we began rolling, she reached through the window and gave us the same amount Henri had given us.