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Thought you might be interested in my story, circa 1975. Feel free to use it anywhere you like, but don't use my name. Call me paranoid, but I'm afraid of these people and I don't want trouble.
The stadium was filled to overflowing. Ten thousand people had come to see the redoubtable Miss Kathryn Kuhlman call down miracles from heaven. Many had been turned away, but we'd arrived early. A friend had told us of this "miracle crusade" and insisted we couldn't miss it. She'd even done the driving.
We were ushered to a section just in front of a row of wheelchair patients. They lay like skeletons, too ill to sit up, covered with blankets although the night was warm. They should be home in bed, I thought. Why would God require them to come here to be healed? Would they be healed? I wanted to believe it yet couldn't. They appeared to be at death's door.
Music blared. Miss Kuhlman appeared on the podium in a diaphanous, billowing cloud. She lifted her arms and waves of white chiffon swirled in the air around her. The crowd sprang to their feet. A piano thundered and the crowd began to sing, "Because He Lives."
The air was electric with expectation. Soon a prayer line formed, led by a little nun in a black habit. Miss Kuhlman touched the nun on the forhead. The nun melted to the ground and stood up again while the crowd clapped and roared. It looked like they were having fun. They did it again. They did it seven times, in fact.
The people in the wheelchairs stayed where they were. I wondered why they hadn't been placed down front where they could be seen, touched, prayed for, where they could get out safely. Why had they been put where Miss Kuhlman would never notice them?
My daughter couldn't see what was going on. A serious accident six months earlier had impaired her vision as well as her legs. I said if she felt like standing we could walk down to the rail for a closer look. She agreed, but moments later she complained that the leg brace was hurting her foot. I bent down and took it off, stood up with it in my hand.
An usher rushed toward us. "A healing!" he cried. "Do we have a healing here?" He seemed intent on taking the offensive brace off our hands. The crowd went wild. The roar was deafening. My lips moved but I could not hear myself. I tightened my grip on the brace and shook my head. "No! We only took it off for a while. She can't walk without it!" At last he understood and walked away in resignation.
Miss Kuhlman went on doing her thing to the utter delight of the crowd. She touched people, they fell and were caught by the "catchers"and sprang up laughing. Her white chiffon billowed in the air from an electric fan strategically placed, giving an eerie, unreal effect.
Few people in the crowd would ever get near Miss Kuhlman including the dozen or so wheelchair patients. And she'd never go near them. It was sad. I wanted them to be prayed for or at least noticed. They'd endured such hardship to be here when they should have been home in bed.
Buckets were passed and a seizable "love offering" was taken. The show was over. We strapped the leg brace on again, struggled through the crowd and down the steps trying our best not to get trampled, and finally made it to the parking lot and back to the car.
We went home wondering what that was all about, wondering what on earth it had to do with the Man of Galilee, the Son of Righteousness with healing in His wings. We're still wondering to this day.
SLIPPIN AND A SLIDIN WITH A GAL NAMED ANABELL LEE--
Right into Hell in a handbasket
of Kathryn Kuhlman's Estate when she died Feb. 20.
paid $8000/yr rent on her Newport Beach apartment
The most treacherous evil here is that Kuhlman and here henchmen would shame, beg, and threaten those who they alleged to "heal," demanding and extorting their cash from them to allegedly support the "work of the Lord."
Foornote: Dino Kartso-snots-us got his start with Kuhlman.
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