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When a hurting woman becomes a healed woman, the devil becomes afraid.

Zuleika Guzman


After my first miscarriage, I continued to “do life” as if nothing ever happened. I thought, who really mourns the loss of a 6-week fetus anyways. It felt as if this pregnancy only existed for my husband and I. It was short-lived but we had enough excitement to last a lifetime. Even after the loss, we were extremely optimistic that the next time we would hold our baby in our arms and not only our hearts. I mean, what kind of God would allow me to experience such sadness twice, right? That same year I was pregnant again but only made it as far as 16 weeks when once again my world came crumbling down. My water broke early and on December 21st, 2016 I found myself on a hospital bed, canceling my Christmas vacation because I now had to deliver my baby. At 12:01 am my son passed away during delivery and a piece of my heart died as well. Even though we had prayed, God still took our son away. At first, I tried to accept it. But after arriving home and having to deal with the physical reality that my son was gone, I wanted to so badly point my finger up at heaven and say “God, how could you?!”.

The grieving process became unbearable and I was full of shame. I could not bring to full term what my husband and I desperately wanted. For the first time in my life, I felt I had no control over what was happening. Nothing in the world could replace the piece of my heart my son took with him. Every sermon I ever preached and everything I ever believed about God was put to the test. I can not lie and say the scale was favoring faith, my grief and hopelessness were consuming me. At times, it felt as if I was healed and found comfort through serving at my church but I still needed more. Without realizing, I was living a works-based life. I expected good to come out of my “good’ behavior. I was completely exhausted and could no longer keep up with the demands of life. I was in desperate need of a miracle. I needed a certain type of healing and nothing else could cure my hurt.

Jan 1st, 2017, I walked in through the doors of High Place Church as a routine and honestly as a last resort. It was my second visit here and had already forewarned my husband that  I was going to be manipulated through a sermon and then return home to my grief. It was as if God had whispered to Pastor Edgar every word I needed to hear that morning and it was as if the worship team selections were exactly what I needed to hear to prepare me for the word of God. I spent a whole year searching for healing in empty wells and finally,I found healing, all within one service. As the pastor spoke, I felt as if someone had lifted one thousand bricks of my shoulders. I felt relieved, I felt hope again and I felt my faith increase.


Our drive home was pretty interesting. As I looked over at my husband in the driver's seat we cried and laughed as we tried to share with each other what God had done.

From that moment on I have been FREE. In April 2017 God placed in my heart to host a testimony and prayer gathering where women would come and hear what God had done. Not just in me, but in other women as well. We held it on May 20th and even with little notice it was a success! It was a very beautiful night, there’s something so special when women come together before God. We cried, we laughed, and prayed for one another. We declared healing and deliverance over each other. I thought it would be a one-time thing. But God had other plans. And so here I am in 2018 pushing forward the vision God has laid in my heart.

So this is the story of how the When She Prays event began and how She Prayed Ministries was founded. One hurt woman who became a healed woman with a willing heart. The Christian life is about renewal and moving forward and this is the message I want the world to hear. Not a merit-based gospel, but the gospel of grace. In the worst moment of your life God is present and ready to heal, restore, and strengthen.





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