Chapter 3 The Making of a Man of God

The First Public Healing

It happened on a quiet Wednesday afternoon. The skies were partly cloudy, casting soft shadows over the town. Nathaniel had only stepped out to get some air. With his headphones on and hands tucked in the pockets of his hoodie, he wandered past the small town park, the same park he and Jessica often visited as children.

As he approached the fountain area, a small crowd gathered near a woman kneeling by a young boy on the ground. She was crying loudly, her hands pressed against the boy's chest. Nathaniel paused, a sudden heaviness pressing on his chest. Something stirred in his spirit.

He removed his headphones, walked closer, and asked a bystander, "What happened?"

"He just collapsed," the man replied, "Some say he has asthma... he wasn't breathing for a while. She's been screaming for help."

Nathaniel moved forward, gently placing a hand on the woman's shoulder. "Ma'am... may I?"

Tears streamed down her face, her eyes searching his. "Please, help him. I don't know what to do anymore."

Nathaniel knelt down beside the boy. He felt a fire build within him-the same presence he felt that night his father passed. His right hand trembled as he placed it over the boy's chest.

He closed his eyes.

"Lord, it's not about me. It's always been about You. Show Yourself, and bring life back to this child."

He remained still for a moment. The onlookers whispered and waited.

Suddenly, the boy coughed.

The mother screamed in shock and joy. "He's breathing! Oh my God! He's alive!"

Cheers erupted around them. Someone pulled out a phone and started recording. Nathaniel looked stunned-not because of the miracle, but because something within him had shifted.

He stood slowly, brushing dust off his jeans, his eyes scanning the crowd. All he wanted was a peaceful walk. What he got was the beginning of something much greater.

New Demands, New Battles

By the end of the week, the video had gone viral. Strangers started showing up at their house-some begging for healing, some just wanting to touch him. The town called him "The Prophet's Son," others said "The Boy Healer."

Jessica rolled her eyes when they talked about it at dinner. "They act like you're Jesus or something," she teased.

Nathaniel chuckled nervously. "I didn't ask for any of this."

Joanna leaned forward. "But you were chosen for it." Her voice was calm but firm. "This isn't a game, Nathaniel. You have to remain grounded. You must seek God even more now."

Jessica added, "You need to be careful too. Not everyone who smiles at you means well."

He knew they were right. That night, Nathaniel knelt by his bedside longer than usual. The fame felt heavy, not exciting. He whispered, "Lord, keep me humble. Don't let this turn my heart away."

Private Battles

Not long after, Nathaniel started experiencing dreams again-intense ones. He would see crowds chanting his name, but then shadows would pull him into corners, mocking his prayers.

He'd wake up sweating, confused. One night, he called Jessica into his room. "Jess... do you think I'm losing my mind?"

She sat beside him and held his hand. "No. You're being refined. The fire gets hotter before gold shines."

They talked until 3 a.m., sharing childhood memories, their father's words, and scriptures he used to quote. That night, Nathaniel felt peace return.

But temptations crept in-girls from school sending flirtatious messages, guys inviting him to exclusive parties, strangers offering money if he'd "perform miracles" at events.

He said no. But the pressure never stopped.

The Fire of Purpose

One evening, after returning from the grocery store with Jessica, Nathaniel sat alone in the backyard. He stared at the sky. "Lord, why me? Why so soon?"

A still voice in his spirit replied, "Because I made you ready before you knew you were."

That night, he had a vision. He stood in front of a large sea of people-young, old, broken, rich, poor-all reaching toward heaven. He stood barefoot, holding a lamp that shone so brightly it pierced the night sky.

When he awoke, he wrote the vision down.

Jessica came into the room. "Another dream?"

He nodded. "No... a calling."

She smiled. "Then it's time we walk in it together."

And so began a deeper season-not just of healing, but of purpose, responsibility, and maturity.

Nathaniel was no longer just a boy with a gift. He was a man being molded by fire.

And this was just the beginning.

The miracle had spread like wildfire.

People didn't just talk about it - they couldn't stop talking about it. It started with a boy who had been limping for months, a son of a local baker who lived just a few streets away. His mother had pleaded with Nathaniel to pray for him one evening after a small youth fellowship gathering in a quiet part of the city.

Nathaniel almost said no - not because he doubted God, but because he was afraid of the attention.

But something in his spirit stirred, and with a calm voice, he whispered a prayer.

The boy walked home that night - straight, steady, pain-free.

And that was how everything changed.

In the following days, strangers began to knock on the family's gate. People brought photos of their sick loved ones, voice recordings, prayer requests scribbled on napkins. Some cried. Others offered money - all of which Nathaniel refused.

He wasn't trying to start a ministry. He wasn't ready for that... yet.

One quiet evening, he sat on the balcony with Jessica. The sun was setting over the horizon, throwing soft gold across their small neighborhood. Birds chirped faintly in the distance, and the street below was beginning to wind down from its usual noise.

Jessica sat beside him, cross-legged, holding two cans of iced malt drinks they'd bought earlier from the store.

"I still can't believe what's happening," she said, handing him one.

Nathaniel took it and sighed. "Neither can I."

Jessica sipped hers. "You've always been different, but this is... huge. You prayed, and that boy's leg straightened like nothing was ever wrong. People are talking. They think you're some kind of chosen one."

He stared off into the distance. "I'm not a chosen one. I'm just... obedient."

"But it's not going to stop," she said. "People will keep coming. This is your life now."

He turned to her. "That scares me."

Jessica smiled faintly. "You think you're scared? Imagine what it's like for Mom. Every time someone knocks, I see her flinch."

They both went quiet.

Then Nathaniel said, "Promise me something?"

"Anything."

"If I ever lose myself-if I start doing this for show... for money, or attention-remind me who I am. Pull me back."

She looked him straight in the eyes. "I will. I swear I will."

Perfect. Here's the continuation - adding Joanna's concern to deepen the realism and emotion before we move to the next part. Still within "The First Public Healing."

Later that night, the small sitting room of their home was dimly lit. A candle flickered gently in the corner because the power was out again, and the fan had stopped spinning hours ago. The air was warm, but not heavy.

Nathaniel stood by the window, arms folded, deep in thought.

Joanna entered quietly. She'd just finished praying in her room and had tied her scarf over her hair. Her eyes found her son, and she walked over, slowly, her presence filled with grace and quiet worry.

"You haven't said a word since you came in," she said softly.

Nathaniel turned. "I'm just thinking."

She reached out and touched his arm. "Sit with me."

They both sat on the old brown couch, the one John used to sit on every evening before bed. It still carried the smell of him.

Joanna exhaled. "Son... I'm proud of you. But I need to say this."

He looked at her, attentive.

"You are not ordinary. You never have been. From the moment you were born, the battles that followed, the visitations, your father's covenant... all of this, it wasn't random. You were born for something great. But listen to me, Nathaniel..." She leaned in, her voice dropping. "The higher the calling, the hotter the fire. This gift will draw people to you-but it will also attract things you're not ready for if you don't stay anchored."

Nathaniel swallowed hard. "I feel that already."

"I know," she said. "And I know you're still a boy in many ways. You should be thinking about school, about simple things. But now people will come knocking. Some will love you genuinely. Others will try to use you. And the devil... he won't just sit back and watch."

Tears welled up in her eyes.

"I lost your father to this calling. I won't lose you too. So you must promise me something."

Nathaniel nodded. "Anything."

"Stay in the Word. Stay in prayer. And never do anything because people want it. Only move when God speaks. Only when He speaks, do you move. Do you understand?"

"I do."

She hugged him. Held him tight, like she hadn't done in years. "You're still my little boy, Nathan. But you're also God's son. I have to let Him shape you now. Just promise me you'll let Him."

He whispered into her shoulder, "I will, Mom. I will."