At age 10, Suzette Hattingh’s arm was shredded in a farm accident. She not only survived, but was fully healed at 23

I grew up on a big farm in South Africa.

One morning, when I was just 10 years old, I asked to join my Daddy on the tractor to harvest maize from the fields. It was nothing unusual.

He stopped for a coffee. The tractor was in neutral, but the blades of the combine harvester were still running.

I had corn cobs in my arms for my mother to make cornbread later.

As I bent down to put the corn into a bag, the wind lifted my dress. A grease bolt on the pulley caught the fabric and pulled me feet first into the machine.

The blades sliced the rubber off my shoes but, miraculously, didn’t touch my feet. Then they began grinding away the flesh under my right arm. My arm was basically minced meat. Thank God it hadn’t hit a main vein, or I would have bled to death right there.

By the time my father heard me scream and stopped the engine, I was wrapped around the pulley – like a rope – by my own clothes.

Thank God it hadn’t hit a main vein, or I would have bled to death right there.

It was another miracle that my long, thick plaits that went down past my waist didn’t get caught – or it would have pulled off my head. Looking back, only God could have saved me.

We had to walk a kilometre back home, with my father holding my injured arm.

We were both in shock.

We rushed to the hospital in Standerton, about an hour’s drive away.

At that time, no physicians at the Standerton Hospital were able to operate on Rev Suzette; a surgeon had to be called in from Johannesburg. Years later, she would work as a nurse in the emergency room of the same hospital.

The doctors stared at the incredible wound. You could see the main veins, but everything around them was shredded. They tried to clean it up while a nurse kept trying to turn my head away – but I wanted to see what they were doing. Eventually, the doctor said, “Leave her. She’ll pass out.” But I never did.

Looking back, I marvel at how I never cried, and how calm I was – until my parents said they had to return to their responsibilities on the farm and to my brothers who were just 12 and 14.

I lost it. I was hysterical.

All the doctors came running because I was screaming the roof off.

A Voice spoke to my Daddy

My Daddy was asked to sign a consent form for my arm to be amputated – the doctors had said there was no way to save my arm. Imagine the stress of making such a decision as a father.

He went out into the hospital garden and prayed. He wasn’t what you’d call a born-again Christian, but he read the Bible and believed in God.

“I had grown up in a violent home, often stepping in to protect my mother from my father,” said Rev Suzette, who led her father to Christ five months before he passed away.

He prayed: “God, they’re going to amputate my girl’s arm.”

He heard a Voice say: “Don’t let them do it.”

He went back to the doctor and told him: “I can’t sign the form.”

The doctor was very angry and snapped: “Mr Hattingh, you are the most irresponsible man we’ve ever met. If we don’t amputate, she will die of septicemia.”

My father prayed again. Three times the Voice said the same thing to him. I regret that I never asked my father whether the voice was audible or in his spirit. But my father was a serious man, so when he said something, he meant it.

The doctors made him sign an indemnity form saying that he would take full responsibility if I died.

Then they told him: “Take her home. Let this child at least die in her own bed tonight.”

They removed the drips, closed the wound as best they could, and my father carried me out and took me home.

The next morning, I woke up and said: “I’m hungry.”

When my father called the doctor, he said: “It’s not possible she’s still alive.”

But I was.

I was taken back to the hospital, where they started real treatment – with antibiotics, dressings.

I survived, but my arm was weak, almost paralysed.

“Sometimes we doctors can be very wrong”

There were some things I couldn’t do with my right arm, but I learned to compensate.

I regained about 70% use of my right arm – and was able to go on to become a registered nurse.

“Nursing became my whole life. I poured myself into caring for the sick, the abused, the broken, the hurting,” said Rev Suzette. Check back soon for this story. .

One day, a young boy was brought into the Emergency Room when I was on duty.

He had been in exactly the same kind of farm accident I had been as a child.

When I saw him, I fainted. Later, I learned this was a delayed shock to my own accident.

When I regained consciousness, I was white as a sheet.

My colleagues were surprised by my reaction – they had known me to be calm working with all kinds of injuries and accident victims.

I told them: “I had an accident like the boy’s.”

Then one of the doctors said: “Many years ago, I had a little girl come in just like this. I was angry at her father for refusing to let us amputate her arm.

“We all expected her to die, but she survived and kept her arm.”

I showed him my arm; I was the girl that Dr Steyn had seen when I was 10.

“Sometimes we doctors can be very wrong,” he admitted.

My first encounter with the supernatural

Subsequently in 1977, a junior nurse – who had been talking to me about Jesus – and her father asked to come and see me.

I was by then a senior nurse.

The man said: “Can I pray for your arm?”

I was instantly defensive and said: “No, you leave my arm alone. I’m fine like this.”

(I was very sensitive about my arm and always made sure that I wore long sleeves.)

And then he said: “Well, why not? What have you got to lose?”

That question appealed to my practical mind, so I allowed him to pray for me.

I sat back, and he touched me very, very lightly. He said a very simple prayer, asking God to heal my right arm. And that was it.

My arm became hot, like it was like fire.

And I put my arm away, and said: “What are you doing to me?”

From that moment on I could use my right arm normally – and it has been perfectly normal until today.

Now I preach with my right arm. I move with it. I pray for the sick with it. My right arm is totally and completely restored.

Today, the fingers on Rev Suzette’s right hand – which worked hard to compensate for the arm muscles she lost – are larger than those on her left hand. Photo by the Thirst Collective.

I was 23 at that time.

That was my first experience with the supernatural, and that set me on a path to believing that God is able to do the miraculous – things we didn’t experience in church at that time.

Rev Dr Suzette Hattingh would go on to pray in Jesus’ name for people at healing rallies, where the healed would throw crutches into the air.

Having been healed, I wanted to pray in Jesus’ name for everyone.

Through the prayers of the junior nurse, Suzette came to witness patients who left this life in peace – and others in terror. What the practical-minded Suzette witnessed shook her to her core and led her into the ministry of healing.

Watch this space for this story.

About Rev Dr Suzette Hattingh

After leaving nursing, Suzette Hattingh went on to serve at Reinhard Bonnke’s ministry Christ for All Nations, heading the intercessory department. Subsequently, she co-founded Voice in the City and later founded Cinta Papua (Love Papua Centre) in Manokwari Papua, Indonesia.

The immobile walked even before Rev Suzette started praying for them at the recent HEALSG 2025 rally in Singapore. Photo courtesy of HEALSG.

In September 2025, she was in Singapore as guest speaker at the HEALSG 2025 rally, organised by Lighthouse Evangelism.

A version of this story first appeared on Stories of Hope.

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