Testimony of Dr. Mary Ratnam Kotte

The story of a worshiper who transitioned from worshipping one thousand one hundred and one idols to worshipping the ONE and only Lord at His throne in heaven.

My name is Mary Ratnam. Once upon a time, I was an unbeliever. I am eager to share my testimony of how God transformed me from disbelief to faith. It is my sincere hope that you all receive my testimony with open hearts and minds.

My true name is Alivelu Mangathaayaru, and I hail from Munugooru village, Khammam District, Telangana state, India. My father, Bhasavayya Garu, worked as an employee at Sinagareni Collieries, while my mother, Sarojini, was a homemaker. I have one elder brother and two younger brothers. As the only daughter, I was greatly cherished and received special affection from my family. It’s worth noting that my parents and all my ancestors were unbelievers.

Among all the unbelieving families in our village, ours stood out for our passionate devotion to idol worship and meticulous observance of rituals and ceremonies. We were known as leaders in these practices within the community. Personally, I was deeply engrossed in idol worship from a young age. Every year during the nine-day celebration of the “Bathukamma” feast, meaning “Mother Goddess Come Alive,” I took great pride in preparing the largest stack of flowers, known as “Pedda Bathukamma,” adorned with various seasonal blooms.

My childhood was spent immersed in idol worship, where I diligently prayed to one hundred and one (101) goddesses. Even during my school years, I encouraged my friends to join me in worshipping these idols.

My family and I would become irritated and filled with anger whenever we heard the name “Jesus Christ.” I actively avoided Christians, fearing they would try to convert me to Christianity. If any Christians approached my friends, I would react with hostility, yelling at them and refusing to engage in conversation. I was adamant about not allowing anyone to interact with Christians.

During my school years, my family encountered financial hardships, leading them to arrange my marriage. Unexpectedly, I was married into a Christian family, and my husband was a constable in the police department. At my wedding, I underwent baptism through the sprinkling of water, and my name was changed from “Alivelu Mangathaayaru” to “Mary Swapna.” Following my marriage, I began attending church, although I initially struggled to comprehend and participate in their worship and prayer.

As time went on, I gave birth to two boys. The older one was healthy, but the younger one was born with severe disabilities. He could not sense, with undeveloped organs and back issues, and he suffered from Down Syndrome. He had no eyes, could not cry even when he was hungry, and could not cry when he was hurt. He appears lifeless and frightening to look at. I used to feed the baby in a timely manner. Despite our efforts, visiting numerous hospitals over four years, and conducting many kinds of diagnoses, his condition did not improve. Once, a neurologist from America visited Khammam, who came. We went to see him, and he said that the boy with this condition would never walk or talk and that he would be in bed all his life. We used to go to every new doctor in town. Throughout this ordeal, I fervently prayed and worshipped, leaving no prayer unsaid and no god uninvoked.

Every time we visited the doctors, they advised us that our son’s condition was terminal and suggested euthanasia (physician-assisted act of killing). They proposed giving him an injection costing Rs. 150, which would end his life within 15 minutes, allowing us to live happily thereafter. Faced with this decision, my husband and I adamantly refused to end our son’s life. We rejected the injection, stating firmly that we would not kill our child. In response, the doctors dismissed us, attributing our situation to “our karma.” When we went to a doctor asking for medicine since the boy had a fever, they sent us away, saying no medicine for this boy.

At home, our neighbors in the police quarters would often torment us with hurtful words, suggesting that my son’s condition was a result of my past sins. Their blame and our helplessness weighed heavily on me, causing deep sadness. Despite the pain, I remained steadfast in my idol worship. One day, a neighbor suggested that if I believed in the Lord Jesus, my son could be healed. I reacted with anger, refusing to entertain any discussion about Jesus. Even so, she persisted, urging me to have faith in Jesus. I retorted, recalling how I had previously rejected my husband’s suggestion to follow Jesus. I mocked her, questioning whether her Jesus could heal my son when my 101 goddesses had not. Eventually, out of frustration, I agreed to believe in the Lord Jesus, but I quickly pushed the thought aside.

Every night, before I went to bed, I would gaze at the baby before falling asleep. The words of the doctors and neighbors would echo in my ears, and I would cry myself to sleep. I feared he might pass away during the night, so I would wake up in the middle of the night, unsure of what might happen at any moment. I would touch the boy frequently to check if he was still breathing, and I kept a vigilant eye on him every second.

As days went by, one night, we experienced a power outage. Sleeping on the floor, I was jolted awake by the sensation of a red ant biting me. Opening my eyes, I was horrified to see ants devouring my youngest son’s body. It was as if worms were eating a dead body, but these ants were feasting on my son while he was still alive. I hurriedly removed all the ants and noticed that his heart was still beating. Remarkably, he didn’t even cry despite being bitten by the ants. The doctors described his condition as being “dead though alive.” I cried bitterly at the thought of the ants biting him while he was still conscious. The idea of suicide crossed my mind, but then I realized that if I died, who would take care of my children? Overwhelmed with despair and unable to bear the judgmental remarks of the people around us, I cried uncontrollably.

Overwhelmed with despair, I couldn’t bear the agony and contemplated suicide as I fetched a rope and hung it on the ceiling fan, beginning to prepare to die. It was then that I heard a voice saying, “Believe in Jesus, just once.”

The voice persisted, repeating its message over and over. So, I resolved to give it a chance. With the limited understanding I had of prayer, I cried out, “Father, they say you are the true God, capable even of defying death. Will you not heal my son? If you do, both he and I will dedicate our lives to serving you, Lord.” Overwhelmed with emotion, I collapsed to the floor, weakened by tears. And then, in that moment of vulnerability, I experienced a vision.

In the vision, I found myself crying on the steps of a church when suddenly, a man dressed in white approached me and asked, “Why are you crying, my daughter?” I pointed to my son, showing him the reason for my tears. Then, in the vision, I witnessed my son walking out of the church. As I observed this scene, I immediately awoke from the vision, believing that God was conveying a message that my son’s life was coming to an end. I promptly sought out the sister who had introduced me to Lord Jesus, questioning her about the significance of the vision.

The sister explained, “The one you saw is the almighty Lord Jesus. He will surely heal your son.” She then questioned whether any of the 101 goddesses had appeared when I prayed to them, to which I replied in the negative. “Lord Jesus appeared the moment you prayed,” she affirmed. “He is the true God, capable of healing your son.” She handed me prayer oil, which I began applying to my son’s body daily despite facing ridicule from others.

After months, my son began to move. Filled with joy, I continued applying the prayer oil, and to our immense relief, my son eventually opened his eyes. Testing his eyesight, I found that he could follow my hand movements. Excitedly, I showed this to my husband, and our joy knew no bounds. Through the prayer oil, God infused power into every nerve, every bone, and every part of his body. Later, he began to walk, though with some stumbling. Despite his health improving, he still had swollen eyes, suffered from frequent colds, and drooled persistently. Although his overall health was good, he didn’t look normal, and other children avoided playing with him.

During this time, my husband was transferred to several places, and through the guidance of a sister in the church, Esther, we found encouragement. She assured us that God would surely heal our son and advised me to dedicate more time to prayer.

I wholeheartedly devoted myself to prayer, intensifying my efforts. Once my husband left for work at 10:00 am, I swiftly completed my household chores and then dedicated extended periods of time to prayer, lasting until 3:00 pm. Additionally, I spent one hour in prayer later in the evening and prayed from ten at night until midnight, waking up at 3:00 am to pray daily.

Even while attending to my duties at home, such as cooking, mopping, and washing clothes, I praised and worshipped God. Each day, I dedicated more time to prayer, and as I prayed, my son’s health began to improve. He stopped drooling, his eyes returned to normal, and the doctors’ predictions of him having a lifelong cold were proven wrong. Through the power of prayer, my son was completely healed.

One day, I heard God’s voice, but I couldn’t recognize it. I had always felt a deep sadness because, despite desiring the gift of the Holy Spirit for many years, I had never received it. I witnessed others in the church receiving the Holy Spirit and dancing in His presence, and it left me feeling disheartened. On a particular day, a Christian family in my neighborhood invited a woman of God to their home. As I went to invite her, I found myself saying to myself, “Lord, I don’t need the Holy Spirit. You haven’t anointed me with the Holy Spirit,” all the while crying and preparing fruits for the woman of God. When the woman of God arrived and laid her hands upon me, I received the Holy Spirit and danced in His presence for a while. From that moment on, I was able to hear God’s voice clearly, and all the heaviness in my heart vanished.

From that day on, whenever I prayed, God would come down in glory and sit in front of me. He began to reveal things to me through direct visions, such as who would come to my home, what color clothes they would wear, and what they would talk about. I would share all of these insights with my husband, who initially didn’t believe me. However, he was surprised when they were consistently fulfilled.

We made the decision to settle in Khammam. Typically, once someone works in Khammam Urban, they are not transferred back to the same location. However, we prayed fervently. Despite the odds, we continued to pray. One day, my husband was summoned for a meeting by his superiors regarding a potential transfer. He asked me to spend time in prayer before he attended the meeting. Many others had requested transfers to Khammam Urban, but their requests had been denied. In a surprising turn of events, only my husband was transferred to Khammam. It was truly a miraculous intervention from God in our lives. God did many miracles in our lives.

As I washed clothes by hand, a voice suddenly spoke to me. I couldn’t see anything around me, so I looked up at the sky and realized the voice was coming from there. As I listened, it felt as if the sky and earth were resonating with the voice. Then, I heard the voice address me, “My daughter Mary, I am going to use you among unbelievers. I am granting you authority over many evil spirits, the power of witchcraft, and dark spirits. Receive it.” As I gazed at the sky, lightning entered my right hand, and I lost consciousness.

After I regained consciousness, I contacted the sister, Esther. She affirmed that God intended to use me and said we would pray. However, I protested, expressing my fear and lack of knowledge about ministry. I admitted that while I was familiar with the Bhagavad Gita, I was unfamiliar with the Bible. Despite my devotion to prayer, I felt inadequate for ministry and pleaded with God to release me from such responsibility.

That night, I had a dream where I felt a spirit overpowering me. In the dream, someone was beating me and spitting on my face. Despite this, I remained silent and unharmed, feeling neither hurt nor anger towards them. Instead, I became filled with mercy and humility after the spirit came upon me. When I shared this experience with my husband, he didn’t believe me.
As I began my prayer, I heard God’s voice saying, “Daughter, you belong to me, and I am going to use you mightily.” I expressed my fear to the Lord, stating that I couldn’t engage in ministry because I was afraid of crowds. However, I committed to praying for people and told God the same thing all the time.

I took training as a beautician and started a small business. One day, as I praised God while cleaning dishes, I witnessed a crow fall to the ground, unable to fly. The crow began calling out “Amma, Amma” (meaning mother) as I looked around to see who was calling me but found no one. I realized it was the crow calling me. Feeling frightened, I retreated into my home and closed the doors, but the crow continued to call. Eventually, I opened the door and attempted to scare it away by throwing stones and pouring water, but it was of no use.

Then, the crow spoke, revealing that it had a husband and two children and had fallen victim to witchcraft, rendering it unable to fly. Initially, I hesitated, unsure whether this was truly a crow or a demonic entity. However, as the crow persistently pleaded for my help, I felt a stirring in my spirit and decided to pray. Miraculously, the crow was healed; it said, “My daughter, use the authority that is given to you,” before flying away. Filled with fear, I continued to pray, expressing my unwillingness to do God’s ministry.

I trembled at the words of the crow and immediately called my husband, urging him to come home from work. As he entered, he inquired about the situation, expressing frustration. I recounted the incident to him, but he dismissed it as a sign of my deteriorating mental state due to excessive prayer. He questioned the validity of a crow speaking, referencing previous incidents involving lightning. He demanded an end to the stories involving crows and lightning, raising his voice in frustration. Distressed by his reaction, I confided in Sister Esther about the encounter.

That night, I cried out to God, questioning the significance of the crow and its connection to witchcraft. Feeling misunderstood by everyone, I expressed my frustration, lamenting that no one believed me despite the reality of what occurred. In response, God assured me of my calling to His ministry, emphasizing that I was chosen and set apart for His work. However, I resisted, expressing my doubts and insecurities, insisting that I knew only how to pray.

The following day, an elderly lady arrived at my home accompanied by her 20-year-old son. My son seemed restless. She mentioned hearing about a servant of God being present in my home and expressed her desire for prayer. Initially, I hesitated, suggesting she seek prayer from other servants of God, providing her with the address of a church and encouraging her to go there. However, she pleaded with me, acknowledging our shared belief in the Lord Jesus. Feeling a prompting in my spirit, I agreed to pray for her.

As I placed my hand on her son’s head, demonic spirits manifested, causing him to scream loudly and shake uncontrollably. Despite my fear, I continued to pray with my hand on his head. The demon inside him began speaking to me, claiming to be the spirit of the girl he loved, who had died and now possessed him. Uncertain of what to do, I sought guidance from his mother, but she, too, was at a loss.

Sweating and overwhelmed, I cried out, “In Jesus’ name, leave!” Suddenly, the demon was cast out, causing the young man to be flung outside the door, where he lay delivered from the demonic influence.

When my husband yelled at me, questioning my actions and sanity, telling me not to pray, it deeply affected me. Once he left for work, I found solace in speaking to God, expressing my confusion and frustration. “I promised I wouldn’t engage in your ministry, Lord; why are you pulling me into this? I only wanted to pray, nothing more.”

Three days later, at 3:00 in the morning, during my prayers, I felt an overwhelming sense of anointing, and I found myself prophesying. “My daughter, why do you fear? I have called you, and I will use you mightily. Many will come to you, countless as sand. Fear not, for I will guide you by the hand.” My younger brother, who was present during my prayers, recognized the divine presence speaking through me. I was incredulous, questioning how God could speak through someone like me, how I could prophesy. It felt like a lie to me.

In prayer, I pleaded with God, asking Him to confirm the reality of what was happening by speaking through Sister Esther. I dialed her number and recounted the experience, urging her to pray. To my amazement, God spoke through Esther Sister, affirming His presence in my words. “Daughter, I was the one who spoke through you, and I am speaking through this sister now. Will you trust me, at least now?”

Many were led to Lord Jesus through his miraculous healing. From that moment on, I began my ministry. As I minister, God continues to strengthen me through spiritual gifts. He sends people to me, speaks to me, and has made me a mother to many.

For seven weeks, I hosted prayer meetings in my home, extending invitations to all those I knew. During these gatherings, I found myself prophesying. I spoke of a woman who had been barren for twelve years, crying out for a child, declaring that God would bless her with the fruit of the womb. Another prophecy was directed to a sister who had lost both of her children, assuring her that God would bless her with another child.

After one of these prayer sessions, a woman approached me, affirming that she believed I possessed the gift of prophecy. Similarly, another sister inquired if I had the gift, and then she shared that God had confirmed it to her through an audible voice.

I attended open-air meetings where Brother Lazarus, a man of God, was present. I prayed earnestly, asking God for confirmation of my gift of prophecy. In response, the Holy Spirit spoke through Brother Lazarus, addressing me by name: “Sister Kotte Mary, God has anointed you mightily. Though you doubt, remember that God’s spirit resides within you always. He will use you greatly, making you a beacon of light in Khammam.”

During the testimonies portion of the meeting, my name, “Kotte Mary,” was called out, and I was asked to come forward. However, overwhelmed by the crowd, fear took hold of me, and I went home.

God revealed future events and communicated with me about them. While I was working in the beauty parlor, God used to urge me to leave that business. I told God that I would not do His ministry; however, I committed to praying.

The following day, while performing a facial on a client, her face darkened and developed boils. She returned to me, questioning my competence and asking why it had gone so wrong. Despite having successfully performed facials on many others, I was at a loss to explain what had happened.

Early the next morning, God issued a warning: “I will render your hands useless. Cease using those beauty products. Your hands possess My power.” Terrified by this message, I promptly disposed of all the beauty products in my parlor and never touched them again.

My faith and joy in the Lord flourished. From that moment on, God began to manifest Himself to me in physical form and engage in conversation. He would appear as morning dew, sitting before me. If I ever became distracted from my prayer time, God would gently remind me, saying, “Daughter, it’s time for prayer.”

As I knelt down on my prayer mat, God started bringing people to me. When I looked at them, He would reveal things about them, granting me the gift of knowledge. I marveled at how I could perceive these insights. People started coming to my home for prayers, where I would prophesy and intercede for them.

At one point after my fast of four months, God instructed me to set aside ten days for fasting and prayer, promising to reveal His kingdom to me. Though I was initially fearful, expressing concerns about my fear of heights, by God’s grace, He granted me visions of both heaven and hell. I documented these experiences in the book “I Saw Heaven and Hell.”

My son Stalin experienced complete healing, and my family and I have dedicated ourselves to the Lord’s ministry, experiencing His blessings abundantly. Following God’s guidance, we established the church “Yehova Agni (Fire) Church,” where people gather every Sunday from various locations to receive blessings. Led by the Holy Spirit, we are guided on the path to heaven, witnessing many miracles, wonders, healings, and deliverances within the church.

We attribute our spiritual journey to my second son, Stalin, whom God formed miraculously from a mere blob of flesh, sustaining his life and supernaturally healing him.

Before I formed you in the womb, I knew you, and before you were born, I consecrated you; I appointed you a prophet to the nations. (Jeremiah 1:5)

God has appointed me and is using me according to the promise He gave me.