“Do You Believe in Healing?” A Conversation Between Two Worlds
“Do you believe in healing?” I asked my doctor.
“Spiritual healing?” they replied.
“Yes.”
“No. No, I don’t.”
And just like that, the air in the room changed. Something invisible closed. I felt the door shut. Not a slam—but the quiet sound of a heart withdrawing. I had brought something precious—both the medical evidence in my hands and the silent, shining truth I carried inside me. Both were dismissed.
I sat there, holding documented changes to my physical functioning, test results taken before and after my near-death experience (NDE)—changes my body had no reason to make. Markers of chronic illness that had baffled doctors for years were now clear. Better. Different. And it wasn’t just subjective. It was measured, compared, analysed. I had accounted for machine differences. I had run calculations. I had answers.
But the moment I said the word “healing,” the conversation ended.
Why is healing such a loaded word?
What are we really asking when we speak of it?
And what are others really rejecting when they say they don’t believe?
The Fragile Terrain Between Evidence and Belief
It wasn’t just that my doctor didn’t believe in spiritual healing. It was that they seemed unable to consider it in that moment. That inability hurt far more than disagreement. This wasn’t a debate. This was my life. My body. My lived transformation.
To them, it was most likely a statistical fluke, an error margin, or an unmeasured variable. To me, it was the visible trace of the divine, the embodied memory of something I can no longer unknow.
What happens in these moments—when two worldviews meet, and only one is permitted to be real?
The Medical Gaze: What Can Be Seen, and What Must Be Ignored
Medicine is trained to see the body in fragments: systems, markers, categories. Within this framework, “healing” often means recovery following intervention—surgery, medication, rehabilitation. It is defined and measured against the effectiveness of treatment, or the body's ability to repair itself in time.
Spiritual healing, however, sits outside this scope. It implies:
A power greater than medicine
A force not yet understood
An origin that may not be physical
A recovery that may not be linear
This unsettles the medical mind. It complicates what is supposed to be clean. And it threatens to open the door to questions science isn’t yet prepared to answer.
For someone who has seen the light of another world, however, these questions are not speculative—they are lived reality. To be dismissed is to be exiled a second time.
What Is Healing, Really?
Healing is not the same as curing.
A cure targets the condition. Healing touches the whole being.
Curing can be measured in labs. Healing can be felt in the silence of the soul.
Curing removes symptoms. Healing restores wholeness—even if symptoms remain.
We often think of healing as a return to a prior state, but sometimes, healing is a movement forward into something new. A new alignment. A new truth. A new relationship with life.
And for many near-death experiencers, healing arrives not just as a physical shift, but as an existential and spiritual transformation:
Old beliefs fall away.
Emotional wounds are released.
Energy moves more freely.
The body begins to respond to the new consciousness inhabiting it.
In this way, healing becomes a byproduct of presence—of alignment with love, light, and truth.
Is It Science or Spirit?
Perhaps the problem isn’t healing, but the categories we insist on placing it in. Western culture separates body and spirit. Science and faith. Medicine and miracle. But the near-death experience collapses those separations. It shows that matter responds to consciousness. That love transforms the cellular field. That the divine leaves fingerprints on the physical.
Does this mean healing should be thought of as divine intervention? Not always. Sometimes healing arises from something more subtle—a shift in coherence. A release of resistance. An opening to grace.
For the NDEr, healing often feels natural—almost inevitable—when they are aligned with the truth of what they experienced.
But to speak of it is to risk ridicule. To show evidence is to be met with dismissal.
What, then, are we really afraid of?
Why Is Healing So Threatening?
1. It Challenges Materialist Assumptions
If someone can heal without medical intervention, what does that say about our systems? If the divine can enter the body and rewrite biology, what does that say about the limits of science?
For many, it says: we are not in control. And that terrifies us.
2. It Requires Us to Acknowledge Mystery
Healing asks us to admit we do not understand everything. That knowledge is incomplete. That something greater is at work.
For some practitioners, this humility is welcome. For others, it is intolerable.
3. It Makes the Invisible Visible
When a person heals through spiritual means, it becomes harder to deny the reality of spiritual existence. And for those who have built their worldview on rationalism alone, this is deeply unsettling.
Faith becomes not a belief system, but a threat.
The Legal and Ethical Fears Around Healing
There’s also another layer: legal and professional risk.
In many medical contexts, the word “healing” carries liability concerns. If a doctor acknowledges spiritual healing, they may be seen as endorsing unproven interventions. They may fear accusations of pseudoscience, breaches of professional standards, or regulatory scrutiny.
For this reason, many practitioners avoid the word entirely. It becomes safer to say “remission,” “improvement,” or “spontaneous resolution.”
But language is never neutral. The refusal to name something also refuses to witness it.
A Different Machine?
When my doctor said, “Maybe it was a different machine,” I heard something deeper.
I heard: I need this to be explainable.
I heard: If it can’t be accounted for by error, I’ll have to consider something I’m not ready to believe.
I heard: Your experience challenges the foundation I stand on—and I cannot afford to question it.
I didn’t argue. I’d been there. Several months earlier, I might have said the exact same thing. In fact, I know I would have. But that was before death folded around me like light. Before I saw the body as an instrument of soul. Before the truth rearranged my cells.
I understood their response. Beneath the logic, I felt the pain behind their speech, carried for years in their archaic backpack of their own spiritual experiences that weighed on them heavily. I witnessed their attempts to regain their spiritual and professional balance despite my presence piercing through their safety containment barriers. I felt compassion, love, and gratitude towards them. But I also felt the loneliness of being dismissed while holding proof.
Not just the paper—but the pain. The faith. The knowing.
What If I Hadn’t Had an NDE?
Sometimes I wonder—if I had not told my doctor about my NDE, would they have responded differently?
Would they have marvelled at the recovery? Would they have considered it an “outlier,” worthy of curiosity?
Or would they still have found a way to make it fit within the accepted framework—unusual, yes, but ultimately explainable?
And if so, what does that say about the power of narrative?
When the word “spiritual” enters the conversation, does science automatically disengage?
Healing Is a Mirror
Here’s what I’ve come to believe: healing acts as a mirror. What we see in it depends on what we’re ready to perceive.
The sceptic sees coincidence.
The scientist sees anomaly.
The mystic sees coherence.
The survivor sees grace.
The wounded see possibility.
To witness healing is to be offered an invitation: will you allow your worldview to widen?
Not everyone says yes.
And that’s okay. But it’s important to know that when someone says “I don’t believe in healing,” they may also be saying: “I don’t want to look into that mirror.”
Healing and the Role of the Witness
There is something holy about being witnessed. Especially when one has passed through death and returned. The body that heals needs to be seen—not just by medical eyes, but by soul eyes. To be acknowledged. Held. Validated.
When a medical professional turns away, it isn’t just the facts they’re dismissing—it’s the person. It’s the story. It’s the sacredness.
Being witnessed can be part of the healing itself.
And when it’s denied, something aches.
The Wound of Dismissal
Medical dismissal is more than an intellectual disagreement. It’s a relational injury. It tells the NDEr:
Your truth is inconvenient.
Your transformation is irrelevant.
Your data doesn’t count if it doesn’t fit the model.
This isn’t just painful. It’s retraumatising.
After an NDE, many people already feel like they don’t belong here. Like they’ve returned to a world that cannot hold what they’ve become. To be dismissed by a doctor—the very person meant to steward the body—can reinforce this sense of exile.
What Could a Better Response Look Like?
Responses such as:
“That’s incredible. I’ve never seen that before.”
“I don’t have an explanation, but I believe your experience.”
“You’re doing something right. Let’s keep learning.”
These are not endorsements of faith—they are expressions of humility. Curiosity. Respect.
They say: I may not understand, but I will not close the door on your truth.
They say: You matter.
And that changes everything.
Living as a Healed Being in a World That Denies It
Perhaps the hardest part of spontaneous or spiritual healing is not the transformation itself—but living in a world that insists it didn’t happen.
You begin to question yourself. To minimise your truth. To hide what you know.
You carry the light of healing in your body, but speak of it only in hushed tones.
And yet, every cell remembers.
You are living proof. Even if no one believes you.
Even if the doctor looks away.
The Deeper Question: What If Healing Is Real?
Let’s return to the question: “Do you believe in healing?”
Behind that question is another:
What would it mean if it were true?
If healing is real—spontaneous, spiritual, mysterious—then perhaps:
The body is more than a machine.
Consciousness is more than brain function.
Illness is not always the enemy.
Death is not the end.
We are more connected to the divine than we thought.
This isn’t just a philosophical leap. It’s a paradigm shift.
And many are not ready. I myself, was not ready until the very day I died. And so, I cannot fault those who are not ready, however I ask that you at least open and read the invitation to witness healing, and permit room in your being to contemplate the mysterious, the illogical, the magical, the nonsensical, the inexplainable, and the wonderous.
Final Thoughts:
For the NDEr, including myself, healing is not a belief system. It’s a lived truth. If you’ve experienced it, you don’t need others to validate it for it to be real. And yet, it’s also okay to long for that validation. To want your doctor to see and to celebrate it with you. To hope your story will be honoured.
You can hold both truths.
And in the meantime, keep living as the healed being you are. Keep breathing into your miracle. Keep honouring the body that remembers love.
One day, perhaps, science will catch up.
Until then, the soul knows.
