Faith and Healing
A shining light and a powerful influence in my ministry has been my wife. She saw and heard things that did not impress me, but following her advice, I was able to do what was necessary. My ministry had been richly inspired by her wisdom and sound judgement. Together we have been a good team in God's service.
One day an elderly farmer was in church with his wife. I spoke to them at the close of the service. Wattie Greig did not see my hand outstretched to him. Later my wife told me old Wattie had some difficulty in finding his son s car.
On Monday forenoon, I walked to the Greig's farm at Dalmaik. Wattie was in the pig court looking into a sty.
'Mr Caseby, can you count, do you find seven pigs there?'
'No,' I told him. 'There are six!'
Over a cup of tea he confided, 'Bees keep buzzing in my ear and sometimes I step back, instead of walking forward.'
A few days later, Wattie was going around dazed, once or twice he fell. The doctor was called; two specialists called. Wattie was advised to go to hospital. He refused and for some days he lay in bed irritable and could not sleep. With Charlie Kidd, an Elder, I held a short communion service at Wattie's bedside. When it was over, Wattie looked at me.
'Why have you brought the sacrament to me?'
'We believe it will help you to co-operate with the specialists. Will you go to the hospital?'
'On one condition,' he replied. 'If I have an operation, you will be beside me.' I promised.
I was at his bedside when preparations were made for the operation. I saw him go to the theatre. Five hours later, I was at his bedside when he came round. I was at his bedside next morning. He was so pleased to see me.
'Thank you for bringing communion to me. I believe God told you to do it.'
The operation was a severe one, a brain tumour the size of a ping pong ball was removed. Wattie never looked back; he was a new man. He lived for sixteen years after his major operation. In my time I had many cases like Wattie's one.
I believed in faith healing, in prayer healing and the laying on of hands. I lectured to brother ministers on my revelations. On my missions, I always had another minister with me and he was made aware of my methods. No gimmicks, no snapping of fingers, no loud sounding phrases, no magic. Plain words, invoking God's Holy Spirit, to come, dwell, reveal and if it be His will, cure.
Two cases come to mind. Two very ill people who enjoyed 'New Life' through Prayer Healing, offered me money, or gifts. I very politely refused.
'The honour belongs to God and the Holy Spirit, through His Son. If you feel like giving, give something to the church.' Both gave generously and worshipped regularly.
My wife noted many things were required to enhance the beauty of the inside and outside of the church. A committee was set up. An architect, a decorator, a heating engineer, a mason, a joiner and a church furnisher, gave their services free. A story I wrote about Drumoak appeared in an Australian paper. From that story, a sum of money came to install a stained glass window. From another story, I got a very beautiful communion table. Money came in from many quarters and soon my wife's vision came to pass. A lovely decorated church, many repairs carried out, furnishings and carpets in place, the outside painted and a very beautiful window, by Douglas Hamilton, dedicated. To crown all, every penny was raised and at the same time, the church became self-supporting. God was indeed kind.
Malaria still haunted me and to add to my difficulty, I fell off a push bike. I damaged my spine, near an old war wound. I was bedded for two months and visited hospital for injections. For six months I was encased in a leather harness from shoulder to hips, but in spite of my difficulties, I got back to my pulpit. I was happy, so were my very fine people. While very pained and strapped in my leather and steel harness, words came from Aberdeen Royal Infirmary that a young mother was dying and she wanted to see me.
A farmer took me to the infirmary and to my annoyance, the lift was out of order. I had to crawl up two flights of stairs, then helped to the patient's bedside. The girl was so pleased to see me.
'Tell me how to die without fear,' was her first question. I told her, in very simple language, how Jesus died and how He rose from the grave and ascended up to God's right hand. 'And will he be with me when I die?' came her words, without trembling.
She just slipped away, the lady doctor told me later. It took me a long time to struggle down two flights of stairs, but heedless of my intense pain, I was happy. I had assured a lovely young woman.
My ministry at Drumoak was one long period of progress. A delightful parish, quiet and sincere people. Many church activities, all manned by efficient office bearers. We had many tragedies; sad, sad cases, accidents to fine folks of all ages. And each one seemed to bring spiritual awakening and a real need for worship. My wife had a serious operation in a nursing home. Her courage and strong faith pulled her through. Doctors, specialists, consultants, surgeons were all worried about my health. Scores of injections, manipulations on my spine, many tablets for malarial complications and war wounds did little to ease my pain. Faith kept me going. In the end however, I had to listen to reason. Retire! At sixty! It was not to be. I would try for a quieter parish. Out of the blue, a call came to me from Carlops parish church, a tiny village ten miles south of Edinburgh on the Pentland Hills. It was a call I could not refuse.
This work, Going With God, is copywrited by Ronald R. Caseby, 1993. All rights reserved. Used here by express permission.