Bathsheba’s Story: Lost Innocence Restored

This fictional story imagines how Queen Bathsheba’s journal may have read. Would hers have been a story of shame, grief, guilt, betrayal? Or one of hope, restoration and forgiveness?

“If only …”

There were numerous times in my life when two little words dominated my thoughts. The words are “if” and “only.” When strung together to start a sentence they create a special kind of thought. “If only …” Not “special” in a cute and comforting way though, but “special” in a depressing and disheartening way. All too often I found myself reflecting darkly, “If only…”

Those were not the best of times. Rather they were times of emotional misery. I was consumed by the need to look back at my life in regret, in despair. You know, when you are focused on looking back you can’t see what is standing right before you! And so it was with my life. Despair is not a pretty thing. It can eat at you like a canker. It can grow inside you like a cancer. It can debilitate a person. It can become the thing that defines your life!

And that is not even the worst. Wherever there is despair something even more debilitating is lurking. Despair is a secondary response. It is spawned from a black pool of pain. Look into this pool and you see the source of the pain reflected back. You see the all too real, the all too painful injury that precipitated the despair. You revisit the painful emotions — shame, grief, guilt, betrayal, fear. You are the central figure in the displayed drama. Swirling around you are all the “If only’s”; all the self-incriminating doubt and accusations. “If only I had …” “If only he had not …” “If only it had been different!”

But if regret and despair are what defined my life, you wouldn’t be reading this. Despair has a wondrous cure; a cure that is like throwing open the doors of a dark cell on a sunny day. The confinement of the cell is replaced with freedom. The darkness is replaced with new hope! Every painful emotion has a cure that not only takes it away, but replaces it with joy, hope, and contentment. The injury may leave lasting scars, but the black pool of pain is dissipated.

No, regret and despair do not define my life. Instead, every time I found myself trapped in the dark cell of despair, my God of Love flung open the doors. Even though I was consumed by looking back and lamenting “If only…”; he found a way to break through and reach me in my pain. He lavished me with healing and new hope.

The words that follow testify of not only my pain, but my deliverance — deliverance not of my own making, deliverance of which I was unworthy. Learn what had been standing right in front of me while I looked back in despair. Witness how Heavenly Father does not abandon his children to despair!

I pray that you, being rooted and established in love, may have power, together with all the saints, to grasp how wide and long and high and deep is the love of God. To Him be the glory throughout all generations, forever and ever! Amen (Ephesians 3:17-21).

Lost Innocence Restored

This is a story of shame, guilt, isolation and betrayal; a life shattered. But it is also a story of healing, of undeserved love, of loyalty and of forgiveness. It is about a king’s sexual advances and his acts of betrayal and murder against my husband. I write of my intensely painful emotions and of my self-absorbing regret; of months wallowing in a pit of “If only’s.” I also write of my eventual triumph over these emotions; a triumph facilitated by having my focus turned away from my Self and towards my Lord.

This is a story of earthly consequences, undeserved blessings and Eternal Life. Ultimately, this is a story of wisdom, not man’s wisdom but Heavenly Father’s wisdom — wisdom which leads him to offer unlimited and unconditional healing through his forgiveness and other blessings — wisdom which leads him to discipline the ones he loves with earthly consequences so that they may receive his spiritual blessings of love and living eternally with him.

An Announcement from My Father Eliam

I was a young woman of marrying age. My friends assured me I was an uncommon beauty and that, with my family’s standing in our town, I could expect an outstanding husband. Imagine my surprise when one day at the evening meal my father announced that I was to marry a Hittite soldier! Hittites had fought against Israel. They were brutish pagans who worshiped idols. Going against the dictates of our society, I let my parents hear my protests. Besides, marrying outside of the faith was forbidden!

But my father, as usual, was patient with me and waited for me to calm down before he explained. The man’s name was Uriah. He was a convert to our faith and a faithful follower of the Lord. He was a close friend to King David himself. He had been fighting for Israel against her enemies for over ten years and had achieved high renown throughout Israel. King David had rewarded him by giving him a large house in Jerusalem near his own palace. He was listed among the men known across Israel as “David’s Mighty Men.”

At the mention of King David, my thoughts wandered to the man who was King of God’s chosen people. David was the pride of Israel. There was no more brave, devout or romantic figure in all of Israel. It was because of him that we no longer lived in fear of the Philistines. David brought victory after victory to Israel; even before he was king. When I was a little girl my father had told me of a victory parade where he and mother had celebrated singing “Saul has slain his thousands, and David his tens of thousands.”

On the Sabbath, we often sang Psalms written by David that praised God. Surely the words spoken by the great prophet and priest Samuel were true. “David was a man after God’s own heart.” All the girls had a secret crush on David. Many loved the story of his defeat of the giant Goliath,  but I loved how he had danced before the Ark of the Covenant as the Levites brought it back to the tabernacle.

My friends and I would tell each other of our secret and childishly romantic dreams of being wooed by King David and becoming one of his wives. This was not as silly a dream as you might think; the King seemed to take a new wife almost every year! And my future husband (Uriah, right?) had a house near the King’s palace? It must be a small palace itself. And Uriah was one of David’s “Mighty Men”? I would probably be invited to grand banquets by David himself! I found myself growing more excited about the prospects this match presented for my future. I gave my father one of those perky smiles he loved so much and hugged him in gratitude.

Marriage to Uriah

Before I got married, my friends subjected me to a lot of teasing about Uriah being a Hittite. They would imply how rough the marriage bed would be what with him being a barbarian and all. I must say they did get me to worrying a bit, but I knew they were all jealous of me moving to live next to the King. And as it turned out, Uriah was always the perfect gentleman. He was always kind, gentle and considerate. I wish I would have realized it more when I still had him.

Sometimes I used to think maybe he was a little too much of a gentleman. Marriage was not the exciting life I had imagined, even life married to one of David’s Mighty Men. Uriah was often gone for months at a time fighting against one of Israel’s enemies. The first years of our marriage passed slowly. There were no children and with how seldom I saw my husband, not likely to be any soon.

I found myself looking back at my life at home. Father used to let me help him with his business. Now as a member of the privileged society my life had less freedom. My “palace” became more of a prison. I consoled myself by walking in our garden and by lounging in the bath Uriah had made for me there as a wedding present.

The War with Ammon

Once again Uriah was away at war. Uriah was across the Jordon engaged in what would likely be a prolonged siege of the Ammon King’s city of Rabbah. He had left at the beginning of spring. He had been gone for about two months and I had no idea if I would see him before the winter. I was bored. The day was hot. In the evening I retreated to my bath to cool off.

It was an intoxicating time of the year. The shrubs, trees and vines in the garden were in blossom creating a heady fragrance. The weather was warm, but the insects were not yet at full strength. My garden was hidden from the streets by high walls, so I felt safe in taking the luxury of bathing nude. As I soaked, I thought of my husband so far away and the unlikely prospect of being with him soon. It was unfortunate because this was an evening ripe for romance!

A Visitor is Announced

After I had dried off and dressed for the evening a servant entered and said there were visitors at the door. It was late for visitors, but I assumed maybe they were bringing news from my family; my sister was due to deliver her baby any day. I asked the servant what the visitors had stated as their purpose.

When he said they had come from the king to request my presence, I was taken aback. I didn’t even know the king was in Jerusalem. Surely, he was out with his troops, and Uriah. Why would he want to see me? And then it hit me! Uriah, something must have happened to Uriah. I had just been complaining to myself that he had left me alone. I should have been thinking of his welfare instead. I was safe at home; he was in danger in a foreign country. Now King David wanted to see me because something had happened to him. I suddenly felt the cold, clammy, chill of trepidation.

Uriah was dead, I just knew it! I was too young to be a widow. I hurried to go with the men without even taking an outer wrap. Instead, I was wrapped in a shawl of dread. Every step I took towards the palace I became more convinced something horrible must have happened to my husband. I felt like a convicted felon being led towards the gallows.

An Audience with the King

I didn’t even notice when the king signaled the servants to leave. I had never actually met King David. I had seen him from a distance as he addressed the people and with the arrival and departure of the troops. After I was shepherded into his presence, I could see that even in his mid-forties he still maintained a boyish kind of look.

I was so anxious. I could hardly maintain my place, my social station as a female subject before the king. My concern for Uriah nearly undid me. David ushered me to a lounge chair while making introductions. He had servants offer me refreshments. I didn’t even notice when he signaled them to leave.

Finally, I could stay still no longer. I blurted out: “You have news of my husband? Uriah is dead, isn’t he?” I was confused by the flash of anger across David’s face. But as I heard David say, “Your husband is fine,” it was quickly forgotten.

It was as though a huge weight was lifted from me. The darkness that had enveloped my heart was banished. I felt almost giddy in comparison. I have often looked back thinking: “If only I had thought ‘Then why did this man call me from my home so late in the evening?’” Instead, my relief betrayed me by letting my guard down.

David started talking about events around his palace, about being lonely. I wasn’t really paying attention. He even played a tune he had been composing on his harp. When I look back and see myself, I am enveloped in a fog, completely unaware of what is happening, oblivious. Now I can clearly see the danger that was lurking, ready to pounce and devour. But back then I was naïvely ignorant to what was happening. When he started plying me with compliments, I actually felt proud, thinking “If only my friends could see me now!”


My downfall may have hinged on the fact that I trusted this man unconditionally. With all the bigger-than-life stories of a valiant man of God, with all the victories, with all the Psalms, I saw this man as something nobler than a man. I saw him as infallible.

I started to become aware of the truth of his fallibility and the reality of my situation when I felt flushed. With my mind absent from the situation and my emotions blinded by relief; my body had started to respond to the King’s advances. He had moved to sit next to me, was behaving too familiar. I recognized that he was not just making small talk, not simply being neighborly; he was attempting to seduce me.

When he complimented me for the young sensual body he had seen bathing naked I could only gape at him in utter disbelief. I could see it in his eyes. This was not the kindly, valiant King, the man after God’s own heart. This was a man driven by lust with no regard for the marriage vows each of us had made before God! How had I missed it before! How could I have been so negligent?

Disbelief gave way to dismay. This was not good. My next move would likely change my life forever. But David was moving too fast for me to consider my choices. Things were heading the wrong way and I had let it get started! Hadn’t I already given an implied yes by not refusing his advances? Certainly, his actions implied he had my complicity. What right did I have to withdraw now? But was it my fault I didn’t see it coming? I had to get out of this. As I debated, the situation progressed.

Dismay rose to panic. How could I flee? He already had his arms around me starting to kiss me and lay me down on the lounge. He had likely taken my obliviousness as compliance. There was no one around to help me. We were near the balcony. If I could break free of his arms, I could fling myself over the railing to the stone courtyard below. That would most certainly lead to my death; the fall was too far for any other outcome. But some voice inside me said choosing death was not the way out of this.

Innocence Lost

Panic fled to anger. I started to struggle. This man had no right! I fought him and he fought back. The glint in his eyes said he was enjoying our “game.” He was a man hardened by decades of war. Still, I resisted.

Anger melted into fear. I was going to lose this battle. As I desperately looked around the room for some sort of help my eyes fell upon David’s armor, shield and sword arranged along the far wall. I knew it could be of no help to me, too far away and too heavy for me to use. But it did make me think of war, and war made me think of Uriah. I realized I had more to lose than my virtue. Not only could I lose my life by defying the king, but I could also cost Uriah everything he had worked for. Even Uriah’s life might well depend upon my choices.

Fear resolved into resignation. This was the King! In comparison, I was nothing. Everything in the kingdom was his to claim! My last thought as I allowed my psyche to escape into the deeper recesses of my mind was one of irony. I remembered myself as a romantic adolescent teenager daydreaming of being seduced and bedded by the valiant King David. I started hating myself even before David was done with me. All I could do was retreat into myself as far as possible. I tried to pretend it was happening to someone else and that I was just an uninvolved spectator.

Alone with Shame

After it was over, I was escorted back to my home. I was still somewhat withdrawn from myself; still entombed in a crypt of my own making. True enough something inside me had died.

Somehow, I managed to wash myself, but I couldn’t scrub hard enough to get clean. I was near to breaking but in desperation I fell upon a solution. I resolved then to maintain the illusion that it didn’t really happen. It was just a bad dream. I told myself that was actually not too far from the truth. Before it had happened, I had withdrawn to stand outside myself as an uninvolved spectator. I just needed to fabricate that memory into a dream.

At times I could almost make it work. Each time I felt my pain rise to the surface I pushed it back down saying “Don’t be silly, it was just a dream.” I couldn’t afford for it to be real, so I forced it to be imaginary. If I had been surrounded by friends, I might have been able to make the illusion last. If I had been with my family, I might have been able to pretend longer. I needed distraction. But I was alone, and I had no one to distract me.

I held onto my illusion longer than I had a right to expect. Desperation can lead to superhuman strength. But it took too much energy to maintain the myth, to hold back the truth. And as I refused to acknowledge my emotions they festered and swelled. In the end, my finely crafted subterfuge burst like a pricked balloon. My existence shattered creating a broken landscape of pain.

I must have cried for days. I was so utterly alone. My pain screamed out in a multitude of voices, but I felt it as just one loud wail. For a while the only individual pain I could identify was shame. I was dirty, unclean, leprous and no amount of time, scrubbing, or penance could change that. I was no longer worthy for any man; least of all my noble husband. I didn’t even have the guts to jump from the balcony and save Uriah from having a compromised woman as a wife.

I started to wear my shame as if it were sackcloth and ashes. Eventually, its familiarity allowed me to identify other discreet emotions from the chaos of pain swirling throughout my life.

Defining My Pain

Through my shame, I recognized my loss of intimacy. Never again would I be able to be with Uriah as his innocent wife. How could I ever look upon my father, bake bread with my mother, share a secret with my sister without my shame overshadowing me? Even my friends had been distanced from me.

My sense of loss served to emphasize my isolation. I could never share with another person what had happened to me. Few people would believe me. Uriah might. Eventually, my shame might even allow me to tell Uriah what had happened. But David was the King. Telling Uriah might well be giving him a death sentence. No, even if I thought he would not leave me I could not tell Uriah.

As I dwelt on my loneliness I managed to unveil more of my pain. I saw that it was fear that prevented me from telling anyone what had happened. After I told what happened and the king denied it, I might be taken out and stoned as an adulteress. I might be rejected and abandoned by those I loved. Slowly I understood my greatest fear was exposing my shame. I feared being judged by my husband, my family, my friends! By remaining silent and accepting my loneliness I could avoid facing my fears.

From fear, I traveled to guilt. I could not convince myself that I was not at least partially to blame. David must have read my lack of initial resistance as compliance. Once it had gone that far wasn’t I an accomplice? If I was innocent why didn’t I do more, do something earlier, run from the room, scream for the servants? I had not reacted to any of the clues — an audience at night — the dismissal of the servants — David’s anger at the mention of Uriah. I was so stupid to have let it happen! I could have — should have prevented it … somehow.

The Innocent Betrayed

My guilt validated my shame. And so, I would irretrievably cycle through my pain back to shame. This cycle of wallowing in my emotions, of parrying self-incrimination with self-defense went on for over a month. I was a guilty victim. I was a self-absorbed retch focused on my shame; alone and unclean. I became despondent and depressed.

And into the midst of this pain grew the creeping realization. I was pregnant! What should I do? Now Uriah would know for sure. New fears filled me. How would the King react? I carried his child, but he could simply deny it and leave me to the fate of an adulteress!

I had no one to consult with. I made the only choice I thought I had. I sent the King a message. He replied back with a scheme to deceive Uriah. The king would contrive to bring Uriah back from the front. I would ensure that he made love to me and the problem was solved. It seemed my original plan to just pretend was back!

Betrayal Repaid with Valor

I had already betrayed Uriah by losing my innocence. Now he was innocent while I was shamed! He did not deserve my deception heaped on top of my betrayal. But what choice did I have? David could still deny his involvement. Besides, wouldn’t this save Uriah a mountain of pain? I agreed to play my part in the deception; to sleep with my husband, forever hide my shame, pretend it never happened and live the lie instead of my life.

But Uriah would not enter our home. Two nights passed with him sleeping in the entryway. Oh, how I cheered for him. I never loved him more than at that moment. Without even knowing it he was saving me from my own slow death. But his high integrity only highlighted my low debasement. When David sent him back to the war, I truly thought I would die. My pain was so great, and my emotions were so conflicting. But little did I know the worst was still to come.

When the report of Uriah’s death was brought to me, I thought my pain was complete. In my darkness, Uriah’s integrity had become my only source of light. I was beginning to think he would believe me and that in secret we would be able to leave Jerusalem and live a quiet life together somewhere else. Now even he was taken from me.

The King’s Wife

When King David brought me into his harem I did not refuse. I had no life left. I had no will left. I was broken, unclean, ashamed and guilty. My innocent husband was dead and my guilty self yet lived. My abuser had become my savior. And yet I might be able to deceive myself into thinking my unborn child was Uriah’s legitimate child and nothing bad had actually happened.

He came to me often. I was his new “conquest.” Now as his wife I had no right to deny him, even though each time reaffirmed my guilt and shame and each time increased my violation. Even in a harem of dozens of women I was still alone. While the world saw David’s marriage to me as an act of mercy; I knew the truth — and despised myself for saying nothing. I grew to despise David as well and knew I would never be able to forgive him.

Over time David became more and more despondent. His advances were less frequent, which was a relief of sorts; but then I started hearing rumors. One of the chambermaids had been with General Joab. He was drunk and making boasts. Uriah’s death had not been mere chance. It had been decreed in secret by the King. As the truth sank in, I realized that in turn for being so honorable as to not give himself the comfort of home while his men were at the front, Uriah had received a death sentence. By agreeing to David’s plan to deceive Uriah I had signed his execution order! Now my guilt and shame were complete.

Anger rose to dominate my life. In my thoughts, I turned on David. He knew what he was doing when he sent for me. I may not have realized it then, but it was obvious now. He sent for me to compromise me. He knew he was betraying a friend and he didn’t care. Then he murdered him to cover up. But no amount of venting anger would remove my feeling of being unclean, of being an accomplice.

The Words of a Prophet

When the child was born, he did not bring joy into our lives. How would that even be possible? David and I had never talked about that night. And he was beyond my reach now even if I had wanted to discuss it. My days were dark and my son was just confirmation of my shame.

Then into this darkness, a prophet of God walked in. Nathan showed the courage and the strength I had not. He demanded an audience with David saying he had a message for the king directly from God! He told David that God knew of his sins. He delivered God’s judgment. But he also brought God’s personal assurance of forgiveness, of a full pardon.

Nathan added “If anyone ever says you are not forgiven; know that he is a messenger of Satan. For the Great Deceiver wishes people to be ignorant of the depth and breadth of Heavenly Father’s infinite mercy. In this way he attempts to prevent people from living a life dedicated in thanksgiving; a life centered on returning Heavenly Father’s love and of bringing him glory. Instead, he binds them in slavery saying they must earn their forgiveness by being worthy of it. Those who believe his lies must live a life centered on themselves; a life that leads to ultimate failure and eternal damnation.”

The Response to God’s Mercy

David heard the words of God’s prophet and he returned to his Lord. Through the discipline God brought on David’s head, David saw his sin. Through the recognition of his sin, David repented. He simply expressed his sorrow for his sin and immediately embraced the undeserved balm of his forgiveness. David recognized the pricelessness of his Father’s forgiveness. This knowledge of his forgiveness remade him. David’s transition was proof of his forgiveness!

A measure of Heavenly Father’s judgment against us was the death of our child. For seven days David pleaded for the child’s life. He fasted and at night he laid on the ground. On the seventh day, Heavenly Father brought our child into his loving arms. David got up from the ground, washed, put on lotions and changed his clothes. Then he went into the house of the Lord and worshiped him. He demonstrated his humble acceptance of Heavenly Father’s judgment. David came to view the death of our child as a foreshadowing of the Atonement God would call upon the Messiah to make. He knew the Messiah’s Atonement would pay in full the debt owed Justice. And he knew that ultimate payment would finance the Mercy Nathan had brought him.

And for the first time David came and comforted me. He admitted his guilt and asked for my forgiveness. He bore witness to the fact of Heavenly Father’s forgiveness. He said, “The child will not return to us but we will go to be with him for eternity!” Not until after he had worshiped Heavenly Father and had comforted me did he go and eat! What a transition! Later he bore witness to the entire nation of both his sin and of his miraculous forgiveness so that his people, God’s Chosen People, could be assured of God’s Miracle of Full, Immediate and Free Forgiveness.

Life over Virtue

Nathan also came to me in my pain, in my shame and guilt, in my loneliness, anger and self-incrimination. I, too, was offered Heavenly Father’s cure. His living prophet told me there is only one cure for such pain: Heavenly Father’s unlimited, immeasurable and undeserved mercy. He told me this mercy is expressed in forgiveness (the removal of guilt). If I had sinned by failing to prevent my violation or my husband’s murder; that guilt was removed. But he also told me Heavenly Father’s undeserved mercy is expressed in a myriad of additional unconditional blessings. If I was merely a victim without any sin to forgive but still in pain; these blessings could heal that pain.

Foremost on my thoughts was that I was no longer clean. I have heard it said, “Better to lose your life than lose your virtue.” The prophet assured me that was the talk of Satan. He said: “To say that something that happens to a woman against her will can make her unclean is to promote the lies of Satan. Satan desires the innocent to feel shame. In this way, she becomes focused on herself instead of on God’s Mercy.”

Only someone who does not believe in God’s healing mercy could imply a person should ever choose death in such situations. To say the loss of my life was preferable to the loss of my virtue implied that my virtue was more important than my person! Nathan assured me that all have sinned and fallen short of being “virtuous.” No one is without sin. To imply that chastity is somehow a higher virtue than honesty or charity or that a clean body is a higher virtue than a clean mind is to minimize the seriousness of such sins. He assured me that such talk is nothing more than the talk of self-righteous hypocrites!

Healed by the Great Physician

Nathan also told me that in order to be healed a person has to admit they are sick! He called the Messiah ‘The Great Physician.’ He explained: “The Great Physician will come to save the sick by taking their illness upon himself. The sick are those who see their sin and recognize that it makes them both unworthy to be forgiven and unqualified for eternal life.” Then he added “But the Great Physician will not come to save the ‘righteous’. The ‘righteous’ are those people who think they can preserve or work back their virtue. They considered themselves able to qualify for both forgiveness and eternal life on their own merits. Such people will find their best efforts fall far, far short. It is fortunate, Bathsheba that both you and I number ourselves among the ‘sick’!”

I saw the wisdom in his words and I found relief. I had been stressed by my ‘sickness,’ yet the fact that I was sick is what qualified me for healing! I cannot express the power of the feelings that washed over me. I was forgiven. I was clean. My virtue was restored! I was the recipient of God’s unbreakable promise to never abandon me — even when I sinned. As a result, David and I were able to talk about what had happened. David came to me and for the first time I felt like his wife and not his whore. We named the child conceived that night Solomon. His name means “peace.” After all the pain God had brought both David and I had found peace! Peace found in the deep richness of Heavenly Father’s unconditional forgiveness. We did not deserve it but because we had faith in God’s promises of undeserved mercy, we had it! And it was all the more precious to us because it had been given to us out of love rather than obligation.

We sent word to Nathan that Solomon’s sacred name was to be Jedidiah or “Beloved of the Lord.” Truly we were — as all who receive God’s unlimited, immeasurable and undeserved love are — “Beloved of the Lord.”

The Promise of a Future of Joy

Ultimately my story and my life had a happy ending. I found forgiveness for my sin. I found healing for my pain. Recognition of my unworthiness could have led me to everlasting despair. Instead, it led me to rely on Heavenly Father’s undeserved mercy. The intimate knowledge of our weakness taught both David and I to embrace the Lord’s strength.

Sometime after Solomon’s birth, we took an intimate trip together. It was the honeymoon we never had. We traveled to Bethlehem, David’s birthplace. It was the time of year when trees burst out with their new growth. It was the time of spring, of new life and of eternal promise.

As we rounded a turn, we saw a sight which caused us both to halt and stare. Before us was a magnificent tree standing proudly along the road. It was lined in green by the budding of the new year’s leaves. But what caused David and I to stop and our tears to start was the double rainbow that encircled the tree. Rainbows were a rare enough sight in our arid climate. A double rainbow was a very special sight. And this rainbow seemed to envelop a radiant light that immersed the tree. I heard David murmur, “It’s like the Tree of Life!”

It was a truly miraculous sight. Heavenly Father used it to personally show David and me the miracle of our forgiveness, a double rainbow of forgiveness. Our forgiveness enveloped the new life we had both found, a new life immersed in the radiant light of our Lord’s Atonement, a new life of joy, thanksgiving and eternal hope.

The Rest of the Story

Heavenly Father picked up the shattered pieces of my life. Empowered by my Lord’s atoning payment to justice, he pieced them back together using his infinite mercy. As a result, my life was not just put back together; it was reborn out of the ashes of my despair. For the rest of my life I would give thanks for my healing and I would honor my deliverer by telling others of my deliverance.


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