Testimonies
Every testimony is a life changed forever. These are real stories from the field — told in Angel's own words.
One of my young relatives wasn't doing well. It was the first time I saw him — I thought he was sick, or couldn't walk right.
I was talking to my uncle when he came. I said to him: “Hi, Boris!” He didn't even look at me.
I put my hand on his shoulder to pray for him — and he ran away, and the trees around started to shake violently. I was amazed at what was happening.
I told his brother, the one who had brought him: “Please, cousin, can you go and bring Boris?”
He said: “Pastor, many people pray for him — even leaders — and the demons laugh at them.”
I told the cousin: “Please, go get him.”
He turned around and said: “Pastor, you don't know — they said they are legions.”
I said to the cousin: “Please don't turn around anymore. Bring him.”
He came back and said: “He won't come...”
I said, “It is ok. Please pray with me.” And we prayed: “Lord, send the Word, and Boris will be free. Legions and demons, leave him today — in Jesus' mighty Name we pray.”
The next day they called me and said: “Angel, my brother is freed.” He woke up asking: “Where am I? What has happened to me?”
The Lord had done it — and His deeds are marvelous in our sight.
The air was very tense. Pastor Mariano organized it — the first gospel event this little town had ever had. And still the place was packed, more people than a town that size should hold.
A lady got up from the front line, crying: “Pray for my baby that is dying.”
I told her to come to me, and I prayed for the baby.
While I was preaching, insects started coming at me, buzzing — more and more of them. They attacked only me. The Tzeltal interpreter stood right beside me, and they did not touch him. One stung me close to my throat.
I prayed in my mind, and said in a low voice: “Jesus, help, please.”
About five or seven of the main field landlords repented on their knees.
At the end of the event, I looked at the altar — and there were about ten dead bees lying on it.
The Lord did it. Not me — Him.
Katy had been married for years, and for years she had been asking the Lord for a baby.
When she heard I had come to her neighborhood, she and her husband climbed on their motorcycle and rode to find me. They nearly let the bike fall to the ground in their hurry — she was determined that her petition would reach me.
She asked the Lord for two miracles: a baby of her own, and healing for her husband's two herniated discs.
The Lord healed her husband that very moment. And several months later, Katy gave birth to her baby.
The Lord did it. Not me — Him.
Luis came to the crusade crying, barely able to walk. “Sir, I'm dying — please ask the Lord to heal me.”
Worms were killing him, and he knew it. Then Jesus touched him — and this is his smile after. A couple days later, he found me and told me his story. That's when I asked, “Luis, who healed you?” With that smile he answered, “Jesus, sir!” He was so grateful for what Jesus did for him that he followed us to the next town.
This is why we go: every soul matters, and every life is worth the trip.
I was riding my bike for exercise when I found a man on the floor, groaning in pain. A stream of blood ran through the bricks, apparently from his head — he had fallen from a truck. His body lay awkwardly, as if his shoulder and a leg were broken.
I put my hand over his ankle and prayed. His breathing grew shorter and shorter — he looked about to pass away. His father came and cried right beside him. The man was in his 30s.
I asked the crowd gathered around to pray with me, my hand over his chest and forehead. Suddenly he started responding to questions, though still in pain.
The paramedics arrived and asked for room. After some minutes they stood him up — they could not find the bleeding — and he walked to the ambulance.
My question within was: if they only knew how I found him on the floor.
The Lord healed that man. The Lord did it again.
“The harvest truly is plentiful, but the laborers are few.”— Matthew 9:37
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