Word spread about my work as a healer and exorcist, and people began flocking to the church for help. My team of volunteers always accompanied me, and none of us charged a single penny for ourselves. We accepted donations for the church, and that was it. We consistently turned down gifts or money, as we firmly believed that healing came from God; therefore, we would not charge for it.
My team and I were committed to doing our best for everyone who came seeking help, driven by a sincere desire to serve the greater good. Over time, we witnessed a sharp rise in the number of people suffering from darker conditions, including attachments, spells, curses, and, on rare occasions, possession. It was excruciating at times, but we persevered. There were moments when we felt close to giving up. Yet, somehow, our strength was always renewed before the next session.
I warned my team that we would be facing new challenges. Some of these might cause us harm. Their response was unwavering: they would not give up. I deeply admired their resolve. As for me, I did not care if I was harmed in service to God. It would be an honour.
The church had become an arena where good and evil clashed. More difficult cases began arriving in search of help. I had no formal training, but I possessed genuine faith, and I always seemed to know what I had to do. We witnessed remarkable, even miraculous, transformations, and the people we helped were always grateful.
The more patients we helped, the stronger my resolve became. Every week, I eagerly awaited Friday, our day of healing at the church. Nothing in the world gave me more fulfilment than seeing people freed from their suffering. There is no greater sense of justice than serving others in His name. I was honoured to have played even a small part in that mission.
Blessings to all of you today and every day.
