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Sharon Stone's Testimony

CBN.com MY JOURNEY

I was born with a genetic bone disease called Osteogenesis Imperfecta, sometimes known as "Brittle Bone" disease. By 9 months old, I already had my arm in a cast.  By 10 years old, the doctors put metal rods in my lower legs to prevent compound fractures when the bones broke. 

I broke bones by sitting or simply falling over. My childhood was a series of:

  • broken bones
  • heavy casts
  • wheelchairs
  • walkers
  • crutches
  • hospitals
  • traction pulleys
  • hospital beds in the living room
  • home teachers
  • isolation
  • physical pain
  • emotional guilt on how hard I made life for the rest of the family

When I was 10, my mother told me, while she was praying, God said that He was going to heal me.  I just couldn’t figure out why it was taking so long.  I blamed God every time someone said, "You must be special for God to make you this way."

Thirteen years later and over 100 broken bones later, I was married and made the decision to have a child against my doctor’s advice.  The doctors thought I would break bones carrying and delivering a child. They also knew how the disease often affected each generation more severely and thought the baby would be born with life-threatening breaks.

I found a specialty hospital in the next state where I could have my baby.  On my first visit, I stopped at a Christian book store on the way (having finally resolved my issues with God through being loved into relationship with Jesus).  While browsing, the staff asked if they could pray for me. One lady began to prophesy, though I didn’t understand it at the time, and said, “The bone disease you have osteogenesis imperfecta will not be transmitted to your children.”  I was amazed that they spoke with such clarity and authority, but also I was only six weeks pregnant and not even showing yet.  The word of the Lord proved true; I had three consecutive healthy children who are not even carriers of the genetic disease, but I was still breaking bones.

At 25 years old, I was a mother of three energetic babies and now an inexperienced pastor also.  During a home Bible study, I was introduced to a visitor.  He was a loving man, full of Biblical knowledge and miraculous testimonies.  During a personal chat, he recognized that I was hobbling about and remarked that Jesus wanted to heal me NOW.  Hope leapt in me, and I could hardly take it in!  Was this too good to be true? 

My eyes followed him the rest of the evening waiting for a solitary moment to request this supernatural prayer or this phenomenal impartation.  When my opportunity came, in a hushed excited voice I hardly recognized, I inquired, "Did you say Jesus wanted to heal me now?"  He answered positively.  With all my hope-filled boldness, I asked him to pray for me for my healing.  His response was to put it off for another time that never came. 

I was let down and confused that night.  I felt like a salesman had just told me of this amazing new company he represented with an improved product
with updated bells and whistles.  This product he represented would make my life better, and I could not afford to live without it.  But he could only show me an advertisement with a picture and a promise. 

I refused to give up hope! I was renewing my mind with Biblical stories of healing and faith.  And my life was altered:

  • I still broke bones
  • But it was less often
  • And with each consecutive break it took a shorter duration to heal
  • So I was in a cast and in a wheelchair less and less.

Until one winter in Oklahoma I fell on the ice and broke my femur (largest bone in the body).  I went to ORU hospital emergency room.  They took x-rays and confirmed indeed it was broken. They prayed with me and went to prepare to put a body cast on me.  Before they plastered me up, I asked for addition x-rays, which proved my broken bone had already been healed.

I then began to realize I didn’t want just my broken bones to be healed. I wanted to be healed and delivered from the bone disease once and for all.
I believed an evangelist would come through town; call out my bone disease; I would rise up from my wheelchair; run around the room and be totally healed.

Shortly afterward I fell and broke my pelvic in three places.  My children and I went to stay with my mother as I could not take care of myself or them. Three days after the break, I was in my childhood bedroom believing by Jesus’ stripes I was healed.  I came to this big understanding; healed people don’t sit in wheelchairs.  And all of a sudden all by myself:

  • I rose in the power of the Holy Spirit
  • folded up my wheelchair
  • and begin to walk.

I was convinced by mother to take me back to the doctor for additional x-rays.  My breaks had not only been healed this time.  The breaks had disappeared without a trace, not even a calcium deposit.

It has now been 29 years since I have been plagued by that bone disease.

 

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