Someone called my son on the family’s landline phone in our house in Ibadan in 1997. The phone rang and he rushed off to pick up the call because he was expecting a call from a girl he was talking to at the time. He was sixteen years old.
Only God knows what the person said to him over the phone. He lost his mind after that phone call and we began to carry him from hospital to hospital. He is forty-two years old today, and he has been the only source of sorrow for me as a mother and for the entire family. We have tried several churches, spiritualists, herbalists and doctors. The attack was total and unyielding.
He never took drugs and it was not something in the genetics of the family.
This was a spell or an enchantment and it defied prayers and medicine. Today is my son’s birthday. As we do every year, we had him brought home yesterday so that we can cut his cake, sing and celebrate God’s faithfulness over his life. We do this and then have him returned to whatever treatment centre or hole we pulled him out of to continue his treatment.
He is my first son and I don’t want his younger and older ones to forget about him or discard him as if he does not exist.
Since he came in yesterday, I have had this excitement in my spirit about today because of the prophetic service. The date also is the last day of the month of perfection and the theme for the month is Malkosh, the latter rain. What rain can be later than the rain that falls today?
His case was mentioned this morning, while he was still sleeping in the visitor’s room which was kept pitch dark in order to encourage him to sleep. Brother Gbenga rebuked the spirit of infirmity in him and pronounced him healed. I dropped my phone and was going to his room when my husband rushed out from the room upstairs and asked me if I heard it. I said I did.
He said “So what do we do now”. I shrugged because I had no idea. Then we heard a sound coming from the guest room. A soft knock, like a child knocking on a room, I went to the door and opened it. My son walked out and said, “How come there is no light in my room and why was I locked in?”
I apologised then he looked at his father and said “Daddy” then he went to embrace him and then he recognized me and said mummy and then he came to embrace me. Then as if it suddenly dawned on him that something had been wrong, he began to cry. His father began to cry too and so did I. His siblings joined us and we all cried and sang together, Oluropo is alive and has been made whole. He will fulfil his destiny in Christ.
According to the word of God, it is not too late for him. This is Jesus visiting my household during the prophetic service of today. It would be remiss of me if I didn’t run like the woman at the well to shout about the great things he has done
He has done great things, bless his Holy name.
Also Read:
Devotional
Purpose: Called to Preach the Gospel
Inspirational
God’s Holding Patterns
Testimonies
The Love of God Washed Over Me Like a Tsunami
