A FRIEND OF MINE is a veterinarian. You couldn't find a kinder, more compassionate woman. Whenever we've needed the town-mandated rabies shots for our animals, we've gone to her.

One time, I brought in our dog, Griffin. A big, athletic Rhodesian Ridgeback with a gentle disposition, he stood before my friend, unperturbed as her hands examined every inch of him. And she asked me question after question. Had he had this problem? That problem?

The answer was always, no. All I could report was consistent good health.

"Well," she said thoughtfully, "he's simply between illnesses."

It was an illuminating moment for me, and I felt I understood better the medical perspective.

My friend saw a lot of animals, many of them sick or injured. She had been well educated and well trained to look for physical causes producing physical effects. The premise for this approach is the theory that life is based in matter and is vulnerable to a myriad of destructive material factors: heredity, contagion, accident, age, environment, and so on. A diagnosis of these causes determines what kinds of material responses might counter the original problem. A good physician seeks to pinpoint the agitating cause.

Arguably, the most successful physician in history was Jesus. He had a reputation for quick and complete cures of all kinds of chronic and acute diseases and dysfunctions, including leprosy, blindness, deafness, fevers, and even mental illnesses. But his method of treatment was unorthodox—even antithetical—to the medical practitioners of his day and ours.

He preached the importance of understanding life based in Spirit—in God—and employed spiritual discernment and prayer in his treatment, instead of potions or herbs or other materially based remedies.

Once in a crowded house, a man with a case of paralysis was brought before him. To everyone's astonishment, he said to the man, "Take heart, son; your sins are forgiven" (Matt. 9:2, New International Version).

This bold statement caused quite a stir! The religious authorities were offended that any man would lay claim to power reserved for the Divine. Such spiritual power was not—could not be—used by humanity for physical ills. And yet, when Jesus then commanded the invalid to get up and walk, he did so. Once again, Jesus proved this radical method was powerfully effective.

Jesus discerned, or diagnosed, the man's problem as rooted in sin—in a perception of himself as a mortal separated from God by the choices or actions he'd taken; that he was vulnerable to the physical consequences of life in matter; and perhaps that he even deserved the inevitable suffering associated with mortality. Jesus dismissed these fears and misperceptions. The "great Physician" restored to the paralyzed man a confidence that his relationship with God was intact, and therefore nothing in his life could be impaired.

How one identifies the problem also determines the subsequent remedy, and this is the point of departure for the diagnosis and treatment of diseases.

Science and Health contrasts two different perspectives associated with a case of bone disease. One is that of a surgeon looking for the cause in material phenomena. The other is from a Christian Scientist's standpoint, using a spiritual approach for healing: "The surgeon, holding that matter forms its own conditions and renders them fatal at certain points, entertains fears and doubts as to the ultimate outcome of the injury....

"The Christian Scientist, understanding scientifically that all is Mind [God], commences with mental causation, the truth of being, to destroy the error. This corrective is an alterative, reaching to every part of the human system. According to Scripture, it searches 'the joints and marrow,' and it restores the harmony of man" (pp. 422-423).

In no way does Christian Science ignore physical suffering or discordant situations. But it requires a mental and spiritual discipline from those practicing it to look beyond the surface picture of the problem and find in God's infinite nature and power the antidote needed to restore health and well-being. Science and Health explains, "There is a law of God applicable to healing, and it is spiritual law instead of material" (p. 463).

A number of years ago, I was experiencing an internal disorder that included the passing of quantities of blood. I felt a surge of fear when the symptoms persisted for several days, and there was a tremendous temptation to want to diagnose the problem from a physical standpoint.

I remember thinking to myself that I had a choice to make. To identify the situation as having physical causes requiring physical treatments—surgical or medicinal—would lock me into a view of myself as a mortal who could never hope for much more than a little respite between illnesses before the inevitability of death.

However, to identify the symptoms as a mental distortion—as a misperception of myself and my relationship to God that spiritual, prayer-based treatment could address and correct—would benefit the whole of my human experience, including my health.

As I had already enjoyed many blessings from this spiritual approach, I consciously chose it and began to pray in earnest about my situation.

At first, it was tempting to let my thoughts dwell on the physical symptoms, and it took a mental effort to redirect my attention to a spiritual truth about God and about the nature of God's creation as spiritual, pure, and harmonious. But this is the discipline of prayer. It moves one's thoughts away from self and back to Spirit.

I also spent time reading the Bible and expanding my understanding of its redemptive and restorative lessons through the writings of Mary Baker Eddy. I prayed to deepen my sense of inseparability from God's love. And I found myself so inspired by these insights that they were transforming the way I viewed myself. I refused to see myself as some sick, suffering mortal, and claimed instead my spiritual heritage as a child of God and a joint-heir with Christ (see Rom. 8:17).

A few weeks later, I realized I was completely well. I can't even remember at what point the symptoms disappeared and everything was functioning properly. It was simply the beneficial but unsurprising side effect of the spiritual growth that I was experiencing.

It had become clear to me that my health didn't rest on matter or material conditions. In fact, these were irrelevant to my true identity. My health, my very nature and being, was derived from infinite Spirit and comprised of spiritual qualities: joy, freedom, vitality, strength, harmony. I could count on deep, consecrated prayer to bring these truths to light and make them practical realities for me.

The prevailing view today asks for a variety of human opinions to diagnose our conditions. But our best hope for permanent healing turns us directly to God for a just verdict: "Examine me, O Lord, and prove me" (Ps. 26:2). Such an evaluation brings with it the eternal confirmation, "And God saw every thing that he had made, and, behold, it was very good" (Gen. 1:31).

A divine perspective on our unwavering identity as children of Spirit—cared for, complete, and completely well—invites us to discover this spiritual freedom through prayer, accept it as grace, and experience it in richer, more robust lives. css