An Agnostic in Bismarck Healing Rooms

[This story originally appeared in the July 2011 issue of Prairie Independent]

There are several reasons a healing might not work, Bob Copenhaver, tells me. “Sometimes roadblocks have to be dealt with. Roadblocks like unforgiveness.”

But here in Bismarck’s Healing Rooms, the walls are papered in testimonials from people for whom the healing has worked.

“I walked in limping; I walked out not limping from the Healing Room” reads one of the hundreds of yellow sheets tacked to the wall. Another reads, “I was diagnosed with non-Hodgkins lymphoma … the doctor was totally amazed at how fast the chemo worked.” And so on.

It doesn’t always work the first time, Copenhaver is saying. I might have to return. Plus, not truly forgiving others might not be my biggest barrier to healing. But I’m getting ahead of myself.

This is my first time at the Healing Rooms of the Northern Plains.  Lola and Bob Copenhaver opened the nonprofit in north Bismarck eight years ago, and today they work with a team of more than 30 intercessors, volunteers who pray for healing on the behalf of others.

“A wide range of people walk in,” says Lola. “We might get someone who just wants a blessing to someone with three-weeks to live.”

They don’t just walk in either. Prayer requests arrive on the phone or by email. At times, intercessors travel to see individuals at home, in hospitals, or in residential facilities as well.

“What if you’re not a Christian?” I ask.

Lola cautions that non-believers could lose their healing, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t welcome. “We’ll pray for anyone,” she says.

Soon after, she brings me a single page, like an intake form. I fill in my name, address, and phone. It asks about my church affiliation, and whether I’ve been born again or baptized in the Holy Spirit. I decide to answer honestly. Under Prayer Need, I request help for this hip pain. The rest of the page is basic liability—I understand this is not professional medical care, counseling, or therapy. I sign my name, turn in my paper, and then wait alone in the room with all the testimonials on the wall.

Bob and Lola Copenhaver, Healing Rooms of the Northern Plains directors

Nobody gets paid at the Healing Rooms. According to tax filings, not even the Copenhavers make anything for providing this service. Intercessors work here “for the joy of being used” as God heals through them, says Lola. Intercessors may be retired or working, young or old. “We’d love to see some teenagers volunteer, too,” she adds.

Becoming an intercessor requires producing a note from one’s pastor or other faith leader followed by classroom training.

Volunteers come from many denominations and churches according to the liability statement I just signed. “Lutherans, Baptists, Catholics …” Lola lists some of the faiths. But the history of Healing Rooms suggests their origins are largely Pentecostal.

Bismarck’s Healing Rooms of the Northern Plains is affiliated with the International Association of Healing Rooms in Spokane, WA. Launched in 1999, the Healing Rooms Ministry drew inspiration from the 1910s Healing Rooms run by John G. Lake, also in Spokane. Lake’s team of more than 100 trained intercessors participated in over 100,000 healings between 1915 and 1920. Today, intercessors pray out of 1400 Healing Rooms around the world, according to their own literature.

My intercessors are Val and Bob. Val stands behind my left shoulder murmuring prayers I can’t quite hear, while Bob directs most of the healing. I hold my hands out while Bob smears ointment on my upturned palms and forehead. Then silence while Bob listens for guidance from God.

Soon, Bob asks me to sit in a chair. Squatting in front of me, he lifts my ankles level with my knees. That’s when he sees it—one of my legs is ¼ inch shorter than the other. Val sees it too, I think.

I am the only one who doesn’t see it, but maybe I see it. I allow that his hands wrapped around my ankles aren’t even, so maybe that means ….

We pray.

Well, Bob and Val pray. I close my eyes because I don’t know what else I am supposed to be doing.

When the prayer is over, Bob notes that my legs evened out almost the moment he began praying.

I admit, my hip isn’t throbbing at that moment…though it doesn’t feel healthy exactly.

Bob says God has healed me, but as others have said previously, I am at risk to lose those results. Bob says Satan may try to take away my healing. And that reminds Bob of a bigger problem—my faith. He picks up my form and verifies the information: “You haven’t been baptized? You haven’t accepted Jesus as your Savior?”

Bob and Val are ready to fix that too, but I decline. Bob says my healing will be harder to maintain, but to their credit, Bob and Val don’t pressure me. Instead, they say a final blessing, thank God for bringing me there that day, and hand me pamphlets describing the value of baptism and speaking in tongues.

We hug and I thank them for their generosity and volunteerism.

James Randi, magician and skeptic, says it’s one of the most common tricks in the faith-healing repertoire, leg lengthening.  He documents it in his book, The Faith Healers, and in numerous YouTube videos where you can see faith healers from decades past lengthening legs and then Randi replicating the illusion.

Closer to home, Marv Mutzenberger, Bismarck State College Religion Professor, says he has doubts about “transcendental magic” too.

A Lutheran clergyman in Bismarck since 1960, Mutzenberger says he doesn’t discount the possibility of faith healing, but he’s never seen it. “The only healing I’ve seen that works is medicine, eating right, taking care of your body—and your mind.”

A few days later, I visit my physician about the hip pain, which still bothers me off and on. She takes x-rays and says she’ll call. Her assistant phones just as I sit down to write this story:

“The doctor looked at the x-ray. She doesn’t see anything wrong.”