Honestly, that’s not an easy claim to believe for a lot of people. Maybe even for you. In a time when we’re used to Googling symptoms and trusting lab results, stories of miraculous healing can feel... hard to grasp. Maybe even too good to be true. 

But as I sat with Ryan and listened to him recount his story—not just the healing moment, but also the years of darkness before—I felt both challenged and comforted. His story is detailed and incredibly sincere. And above all, it’s saturated with the goodness of God. 

The Pain That Won’t Stop 

For nearly four years, Ryan endured a condition that defied diagnosis and disrupted every part of his life. He described to me what started as stomach pain the summer after his freshman year of high school and escalated into chronic debilitating agony. 

“It was cramping, constant pain that didn’t stop, probably some of the worst pain I’ve felt.” Ryan said. “The only release that I got from it was when I was sleeping.” 

Eventually, the pain forced him out of school and into total isolation. He switched to homeschooling, stopped spending time with friends, and spent most days in a dark room. He dropped to 90 pounds. Doctors ran test after test—MRIs, CT scans, endoscopies, colonoscopies—with no answers. In desperation, they prescribed opioids. 

“I almost got hooked on them,” he admitted. “Praise God that I didn’t.” 

Holding On to Faith 

Despite the suffering, Ryan clung to his faith. His anchor was 2 Corinthians 12, where Paul speaks of a thorn in his flesh and Jesus says, “My grace is sufficient for you, for my power is made perfect in weakness.” 

This verse became more than a comfort for him—it became his story. 

During this time, Ryan couldn’t attend youth group. But one night, something unforgettable happened: the entire youth group showed up at his home. 

“Brian Smith brought the entire youth group to my house,” he said. “It was really special for me. When I couldn’t go to them, they came to me.” 

That line sat with me for a while. What would it look like if more of us loved like that? Meeting people in the middle of their pain? 

The Awakening Project 

In May 2025, Ryan attended The Awakening Project—a college ministry conference born from the 2023 Asbury Outpouring. Designed to inspire revival among students, it brought together believers from across the country. 

Ryan went with no agenda—only an openness to God. 

“I had no expectations other than that the Lord was going to work powerfully.” 

Ryan tells me that one night during worship, a woman in a wheelchair began speaking on the stage—and her message centered on 2 Corinthians 12. 

“It was my life verse. And here she was talking through my exact experience.” 

But it wasn’t just the verse—Ryan felt pulled to notice her emphasis on Paul pleading with God to take away the thorn that pierced his flesh. 

“I realized that I’d always asked God to take away my pain, but it had never been a plea.” 

That distinction, between asking and pleading, was striking. How often do we pray safe prayers, hoping for help but never daring to fully cry out? 

Prayer on the Concrete Floor 

Overwhelmed, Ryan knelt to pray during worship. This was no small act—he’s had multiple knee surgeries and a fractured kneecap in the past. 

“But I did it anyway.” 

Two friends joined him—one of them, he had just learned, had a gift of healing. As they began to pray, more and more of Ryan’s college ministry friends gathered around him. 

“It was all my community. All of these people are praying over me, and they know that the Lord is going to do something powerful.” 

The moment became what Ryan could only describe to me as “unintelligible”. 

“There were probably like 12 people around me all praying for me out loud. So, to hear anything in that would be difficult. But what would happen, as we were praying, I would think something in my head and then, one voice would just become a little bit louder, just enough for me to hear what they were saying, and they were praying to the exact thing in my mind at that moment. It was this beautiful display of the body of Christ being fully led by the spirit in what they were saying and God using that to reach me.” 

Ryan feared that being healed might rob God of glory. As he thought this, someone began praying specifically against the fear of uncertainty. 

The Healing 

The pain began to ebb and flow. 

“The pain was slowly lifting, then it would come back, but it would come back less painful.” 

Ryan had opened his Bible, trying to find Psalm 116:7— “Return to your rest, my soul, for the Lord has been good to you.”—a verse he has tattooed on his arm. 

But he couldn’t get there. His eyes landed instead on Psalm 62:1— “Truly my soul finds rest in God.”  

“It was a very restless time for me, crying and in pain,” he continued, telling me that this felt like God telling him to “rest”. “So, I just stopped there, and I meditated on that while we were praying.” 

When the prayer ended, Ryan stood—with help—and joined in worship. His arms, sore from a random gym session earlier that day, were too weak to lift. 

“It was a beautiful depiction of my community holding up my hands like Moses.” 

The image of friends literally lifting Ryan’s arms in worship, just like Aaron and Hur did for Moses in Exodus 17, stayed with me long after our interview ended. What a picture of what the Church is meant to be. 

Processing the Miracle 

The next day, Ryan began to process what had happened. 

“Constantly, the enemy was trying to feed doubt into my mind, oh, did this really happen? Are you really healed? You know, your stomach still hurts, doesn't it? 

But what he realized was striking: he wasn’t in pain—he was just hungry. Or full. Sensations he hadn’t felt in years. 

From that night on, he’s been pain-free. 

“This Isn’t Just My Testimony” 

Ryan is clear: this story isn’t about him. 

“I don’t want people to think that this is specifically my testimony because this is the testimony of the Lord and his works. No one person there, even the woman with the gift of healing, was the one healing me. It was the community of believers and the grace and sovereignty of God that was healing.” 

As he said that, I couldn’t help but think about how often modern church culture struggles with the pull of personality. We see gifted speakers, worship leaders, and people with influence, and we sometimes start to believe that God only moves through the “big” or the “known”. There’s a quiet pressure—even in spiritual spaces—to make faith impressive. To be seen. 

Ryan wanted no part of that. 

“I had always kind of been cautious about going up and receiving healing at different events because I was like, I would be at the center of attention and that person would be at the center of attention. And that's not what I want. I want God to be at the center of attention.” 

It’s rare to hear someone talk about a moment of healing and immediately deflect the focus away from themselves. But that’s exactly what Ryan does. His words were a quiet but strong resistance to the idea that spiritual authority or experience should ever be about performance. 

What happened that night wasn’t a show. It was community. It was humility. It was the Spirit of God moving in the way He always has—through willing hearts, not stage lights. 

This experience didn't just heal Ryan’s body. It reshaped his understanding of God’s presence and intimacy. 

“A relationship isn’t even a strong enough word to describe what he wants with us. He is not just my best friend or my father, we are unified, and he desires to be one with us.” 

To Anyone Still Waiting 

Ryan knows many are still in the middle of the pain. Still praying. Still pleading. 

“The point is that, if you are seeking God, he will provide, he will display himself for you, he will reveal himself to you. Don’t think that miracles are for others, or even that they were only in the Bible. It’s the same God still present today. It’s not just a cool story, but it is very possible because we have a very good God.” 

And as I listened to him speak those words—not with dramatic flair but with steady conviction—I realized this wasn’t just a story about pain or even healing. 

It’s a story about a God who still sees. Still speaks. Still heals. 

If you’ve been waiting—praying, doubting, hoping—Ryan’s story is for you. Not because your outcome will look exactly like his, but because his healing points to a truth that’s still alive today: 

God hasn’t changed. 

He’s still good. 

And He still moves.