When Words Fail
“I went to speech therapy, I did all the exercises, and it did nothing.”
During this time, two of Sanderson’s brothers received terminal diagnoses. The eldest of the three, his stepbrother, had stage four cancer.
“We were praying for all three of our healings, but my brothers’ were terminal, and mine was just — OK, so what? I can’t preach anymore. With technology, with AI, I can figure it out.”
Sanderson visited his stepbrother in November, knowing he might not have much time left.
“The weight of it, holding my brother before he died, holding the frailty of his body at Thanksgiving, praying over him, laying hands on him. The last thing he ever said to me was, ‘You’re a good brother. I love you.’ Four weeks later, he was gone.”
Despite the risks involved, Sanderson decided to officiate his brother’s funeral. The next evening, he lost his voice completely for an hour.
“I mean, I had nothing but a squeak,” he says. “I didn’t know what to do.”
Sanderson got his voice back eventually, but the issue persisted. In December and January, he began resorting to pressing on his throat while preaching, which would force his vocal cords together, providing some relief.
On January 5th, Vista AG started a 21-day fast for the new year. On January 25th, which was a Saturday, Sanderson had not yet recovered from the previous Sunday’s message.
“My wife and I were sitting on the couch before we went to bed, and I said to her, ‘This isn’t fair to our church. If God doesn’t heal me, I need to resign and retire from ministry.’”
The church had been through many trials before the pastor’s arrival.
“I knew that if I had to stand up and say, ‘I’m resigning,’ it would devastate this church.”
Sanderson cried himself to sleep that night.
James L. Nash, 30, the church’s worship pastor, says that when Sanderson began pastoring the church, about one year prior to the appearance of the ailment, he brought with him a fresh focus on pastoral care.
“It was like a breath of fresh air,” Nash recalls.
Sanderson made an effort to connect with individuals on his staff on a weekly basis to mentor and pour into them spiritually. But Nash remembers that when the pastor’s throat issues began, after a conversation of 15 to 20 minutes, his voice would “be gone.”
“I kind of felt bad having long conversations with him, even though he was my pastor, because I didn’t want to strain his voice,” Nash says. “I could tell that it made him sad that his conversations had to be cut short oftentimes.”
Sanderson believes that preaching represents “less than 10%” of a pastor’s responsibilities, according to Nash.
On January 26th, Sanderson began his sermon with discomfort. But as he continued preaching, he noticed something amazing: His voice was growing stronger.
“Mid-service, he started getting louder and louder. And I can just remember going, ‘Oh no. I hope he doesn’t throw his voice out,’” Nash says. “It didn’t click.”
That evening, the church hosted a worship night to cap off their time of fasting. Sanderson felt the Lord urging him to go to the piano and lead a chorus.
Nash recalls, “He walked on stage, and he said, ‘Just trust me. Do you mind if I lead something?’ And I said, ‘Are you sure?’ And he said, ‘I don’t know.’”
Up until that day, Sanderson hadn’t sung a song or prayed out loud in five months. He would lip sync in worship, and on Saturdays, he would sit at home in silence.
“I was afraid,” Sanderson says. “I was so fearful.”
But that night, he led the congregation in a chorus of Clint Brown’s, “You are Worthy.” Singing the lyrics, You are worthy of our praise. We come and adore you. We bow down before you, he knew a miracle had taken place.
At a follow-up appointment, a doctor confirmed that his vocal cords were still thinning but that this was normal for a person of his age. When asked if the cords were touching, she said they were. Sanderson hasn’t experienced any vocal discomfort since that January day.
With one brother having passed away and another still suffering, he acknowledges sometimes struggling with why he’s been the one to receive healing. During a visit with his younger brother, he recalls, “I said to him, ‘Little brother, I don’t understand why God touched me and he hasn’t touched you.’ And he said, ‘He’s touching me.’”
“In 40 years of ministry, I’ve prayed with a lot of people,” Sanderson says. “Some have been healed. Some have received their eternal healing. I just have to rest in knowing, ‘God, you’re my healer. You’re their healer. But first and foremost, you’re our savior and our king.'"