Waiting for a miracle

Neither do you expect to see a grown woman screaming violently, laughing hysterically, and collapsing to the ground in convulsions.

But that's what happened at St Andrew's Church, Radcliffe, on Sunday when Canadian David Bauman arrived to celebrate the healing power and miracle of God. He doesn't like being referred to as a "faith healer" because of the bad press they get.

He did not set out to be a Pentecostal preacher for the Assembly of God Church. He wanted to be a dentist, a film star, or a singer.

At the age of 15 his life changed forever when he prayed for someone with a broken ankle at a school camp.

"It shrank in front of me. It was very exciting and I was intrigued," said the son of a nurse and a Methodist minister.

In the 17 years since then he has toured the world using his gift from God to bring comfort to the sick in mind and body.

The evening started with an introduction from the Rev Nick Grayshon, vicar of St Andrew's.

He told people that Mr Bauman had performed "a miracle from the Lord" during his last visit to the church. A little girl called Rebecca?,?? who suffered from quadriplegia cerebral palsy, had been cured, he said. "Before my very own eyes her left knee moved over to the right place, her legs went almost straight, and her feet were flat on the ground," stated Mr Grayshon.

The lights were dimmed and Mr Bauman's team of musicians began to sing a Christian hymn whose lyrics were flashed up on a screen with the aid of a somewhat wobbly overhead projector.

The slow, lilting and repetitive tune and words - some might call them hypnotic - would be played on and off during the following two hours. Occasionally, some members of the congregation would stand up and hold their arms out with a smile on their faces.

"When I was talking to Jesus this afternoon the power of God was so strong; and tonight, guys, the power in this place is incredible," said Mr Bauman as he took the microphone.

"The anointing is very strong; there are angels living in this building."

As Mr Bauman's team patrolled the church, praying for the wheelchair-bound, another team prayed constantly for miracles in a back room.

"The doctors have given someone a death sentence. I don't know if it's cancer," said Mr Bauman.

When no one responded, he asked those who felt the power of God to put their hands up. Some did. "Quickly, guys, I need someone in the aisles; it's beginning to happen," he said excitedly to his team.

A toddler waddled out of his pew and his embarrassed mother retrieved him.

"The devil of doubt is not welcome in this place," warned Mr Bauman "Cancer is being healed all over this place; someone with a blood condition has just been healed and someone with an ear infection.

"Someone called George with a herniated disc will find the pain has gone. And the Lord is telling me that someone in this place has the HIV virus; the power of God is burning it out."

A cynic might say that Mr Bauman was simply making educated guesses; in a congregation that size it was extremely likely that at least one person would have cancer or an infection. And, of course, someone with HIV might be reluctant to identify himself or herself in public.

"There's a young person in this place tonight and the Lord wants to set you free from your addiction. I don't know whether it's an over-the-counter drug or crack cocaine," said Mr Bauman, emotion in his voice.

Being English, there was a reluctance among the congregation to stand up to order, so Mr Bauman asked the vicar to see what he could do to whip up enthusiasm.

Mr Grayshon responded: "I want to encourage you to exercise your faith and see what the Lord will do. There's a massive angel between here and the vicarage and there's another six by the door now."

Still no one came forward. Frustrated by such reserve, Mr Bauman threatened to do the one thing that makes the English uneasy: draw attention to them individually in public!

"If you need a miracle I want you to stand. I'll give you three to stand up, otherwise I'll come and find you."

This seemed to do the trick and people began to stand. They were propelled by Mr Bauman's team to a sort of receiving station at the back of the church where the healing process began.

Denise (44) of Marland, Rochdale, said the pain had gone from her groin and hips.

Carol (55) of Middleton fell backwards when Mr Bauman gently touched her head. She said she had been cured of the arthritis in her knee.

And Keith, of Radcliffe, said he felt like he had been "unpossessed" of epilepsy. "I feel relieved, clean, fresh and glorious."

Amid the confusion, a scream echoed around the church. Vicky, from Delph, was seeking a cure for the auto-immune disease, systemic lupus.

I went to the back of the church to witness events for myself, passing small crying children who seemed terrified by what was going on.

Vicky was trembling uncontrollably, cackling and weeping, while Julie, the sound engineer, held her head and said: "Lord, free her body. In your name all pain goes."

The afflicted Vicky collapsed on the floor in convulsions, screaming and struggling, while the team prayed hard.

At the front, Donna, the girl with "the deep sadness from her past", sank to her knees and raised her hands in front of Mr Bauman.

"In just a little while others are going to do what you did," he said. No one took the hint.

"There are some of you here tonight who have dabbled in the occult. If you want to know your future this is what's going to tell you," he said, producing a Bible with a flourish.

Almost immediately 56-year-old Joyce from Rochdale was ushered forward.

It turned out she had had arthritis from the age of 18 ...WHEN SHE HAD DABBLED IN THE OCCULT!

"My back and my knees and fingers are moving much better," she said, and Mr Bauman marched her down the aisle to prove it.

When she returned to her seat I tried to have a word with her but she was spirited away by one of the team to fill in a detailed form testifying to the miracle.

"The priority is with our people," the team member informed me. A cynic might question the haste with which the highly emotional cured were made to document their experiences; there was no time for doubt or for clear thinking.

"I'm still waiting on some cancers and the HIV," said Mr Bauman.

Doreen was next up. She had bought a cloth on behalf of someone with arthritis who could not attend. Mr Bauman held it up and focused on it.

Another satisfied supplicant was Maddie, who reckoned Mr Bauman had cured her of obstruction in her sinuses.

"Don't thank me, thank the Lord. I'm only the vessel," said Mr Bauman.

At the end of the evening there was a round of applause before the collection was made.

Those who believed they had been cured were genuinely comforted, but personally I couldn't help wondering how those who arrived in wheelchairs, hoping for a cure that never came, felt as they were wheeled out of the church.

Converted for the new archive on 14 July 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.