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Several years ago, when I got home from work one afternoon...
Several years ago, when I got home from work one afternoon, my husband called me to come and see some new baby pigs. While I was in the farrowing house, a heavy metal gate fell across my foot. My husband was very concerned and asked if I was all right. After a few moments I managed to tell him, "Yes, I'm all right." My husband is not a Christian Scientist, but he appreciates my desire to work out problems through prayer, so he didn't say anything else.
I walked to the house, praying all the way to know that God never causes accidents and that in reality there is no such thing as chance—only God's unfailing direction. I continued to pray as I prepared dinner and cleaned up after. My foot was still hurting, though, and my husband suggested I put an ice bag on it or I wouldn't be able to get any rest that night.
I thanked him and went into the bedroom to study from Science and Health by Mrs. Eddy. I found myself thinking of what my husband had said. Then I glanced down at Science and Health and read, "If you would destroy the sense of disease, you should not build it up by wishing to see the forms it assumes or by employing a single material application for its relief." I actually laughed right out loud and said, "'Get thee behind me, Satan.'"
Enjoy 1 free Sentinel article or audio program each month, including content from 1898 to today.
August 20, 1990 issue
View Issue-
The peace that gives inner stillness
Roselinde Alt
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Finding our way through deep waters
Brian E. Zavitz
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Preaching the gospel to ourselves
Mavis Rose Latham
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SECOND THOUGHT
"Christian Scientists caught in spasms of intolerance" by Joe Rutherford
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The war on drugs—a spiritual warfare
Elaine Natale
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Finding just the right words
Michael D. Rissler
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When I was a young mother with two little girls and my...
Nancy Kay Giese
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Some years ago, while working on my small car, I lay underneath...
William Sanderson with contributions from Patricia Sanderson
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Several years ago, when I got home from work one afternoon...
Barbara J. Larsen