How ironic that grace has been so ungraciously fought over for nearly 2,000 years! For Christians, the potential loss of grace has meant the difference between eternal torment in hell and everlasting peace. Yet, in some ways grace today almost seems boring, by comparison. It conjures up images of Victorian lifestyles, or God's intervention at a Judgment Day that few people fear anymore.

By contrast, Mary Baker Eddy's ideas about grace show that it is of utmost importance in these times, and without cause for theological angst.

Why is grace so crucial? Because somewhere along the way, each individual needs to come to terms with mortality and all its limitations. Whether one feels it in something he or she dreads, in some secret inadequacy, or in their bodies, people ultimately learn the limits of their personal capacity and realize that they need to turn to a higher source for strength. That higher source is God's grace, given to everyone freely.

Desperate moments of coming to terms with mortality abound in the Bible: Joseph was sent to jail unjustly; Moses stood before the Red Sea with the children of Israel in his care and the Egyptian army in pursuit; Jairus' little girl died before Jesus arrived at his house. Yet God's saving grace resolved each of these issues. Mrs. Eddy explained that "the miracle of grace is no miracle to Love [God]" (Science and Health, p. 494).

Looking to personal resources in dire situations—either to one's physical strength or individual mind—one falls short. But God's grace is not random or weak. Because individual needs are sometimes beyond normal human capacity, healing through God's power and love may seem shocking or miraculous. But the more one is able to know God and the abundance of God's love, the more one learns to trust the constancy of divine grace.

Although historically Christians have been more concerned with salvation in the afterlife than with rescue from human traumas on earth, the biggest problem in understanding how to access grace either here or hereafter has related to the human relationship with this divine power. In early Christian thought, Adam illustrated the fallen nature of humans born into the world. But the great controversy about how sinners could experience grace began in earnest between the Church Father Augustine of Hippo and his adversary Pelagius, in the latter part of the fourth century. Augustine felt his own inadequacies acutely. In fact, he was certain that all human beings were inadequate, depraved, and guilty; consequently, he didn't see how anyone could avoid the inevitability of sin and death. All must have some relationship with Adam, he claimed, because all fall short, just as Adam did. On that basis, Augustine argued that divine grace could come only from God, not sinners. Mary Baker Eddy's views on grace would agree that any relationship with Adam's family separates us from goodness.

However, Pelagius argued an important point. If Augustine meant (and he did) that God's grace was utterly independent of individual motives and acts, and that human virtue and good works aren't good enough to deserve or earn God's grace, then humans would be able to make excuses for their weaknesses. They would never find the incentive or power to repent and grow in grace. It would be too demoralizing, Pelagius argued, to think of ourselves as perpetual sinners who have no hope of becoming better.

Mary Baker Eddy's agreement on the importance of growth in grace did not diminish her agreement with Augustine's dark view of mortal sins. Rather, she presented a third option that leaves the door open for God as the only source of grace and where humans can—and must—find it. Rather than setting up two separate forms of reality, this distinction is made between God's "image and likeness" and a metaphorical type of humankind named Adam. The distinction between them is important in order for humans to experience the power of God's grace; a further explanation brings it into focus. Mrs. Eddy drew on the relationship between the earth and sun as an analogy for the proper relationship between God and humanity (see Science and Health, pp. 120–123).

Here's the way it works: Imagine standing on the sun, where you can easily discern that the earth is revolving around it. Standing on the earth, your physical senses report the exact opposite. You "see" the sun rising and traveling around our earth every day. Obviously these two opposite statements cannot both be true.

Through astronomy one learns that the only truth is the one that can't be seen with our eyes—namely, that the earth moves around the sun. The relationship with God works the same way. Imagine observing the universe from God's point of view, where you discern, as God does, His image and likeness. Viewing the universe from the perspective of your physical senses, you see the exact opposite. That is, God is made in the image of us—like the old man with a beard, for example.

Despite these opposite perspectives, there remains only one truth. As in the earth/sun relationship, so in the man/God relationship, our physical senses have it backward. What God sees is the only true reality.

From this analogy, one can see that Adam presents the inevitability of a mortal life, which sins and dies. This is the opposite of God's sinless, living being, and it has no connection with who each of us actually is. It follows then that if grace comes from the perfect God, as the image and likeness of God we're able to express that grace. That doesn't mean individuals can "cause" grace, but each one is able to express it and experience it just as Joseph, Moses, and Jairus' daughter did. As the individual watching the sunrise needs to yield to astronomical science to perceive the earth's movement, so the one caught in a personal crisis needs to yield to the word of God—or grace—to perceive the safety and harmony of God's control.

Individual safety is dependent upon neither human willpower nor random miracles. Rather, the continuity of good available to all is as secure as their consciousness of God's constant presence in their lives is secure. To understand the uninterrupted nature of good makes it possible to realize the relationship between grace and salvation.

How frightening it would be if personal ability were necessary in order to win individual salvation! How terrifying it would be if salvation only occurred to those whom God had predetermined to save! These are the very fears that have caused theological battles over the centuries. Yet, as modern thought has drifted toward dependency on technology for medicine and power, salvation doesn't seem to carry the importance that it did for our forefathers, and the intense old battles appear more academic than relevant today.

According to Jesus, however, salvation is far more important than finding safety in this world or even the afterlife, important as these are. His descriptions of heaven are more concerned with loving our neighbors than sitting securely in heavenly rocking chairs. To paraphrase him: "If you're coming to commune with God, go settle any disputes with your family and friends first" (see Matt. 5:23, 24). Or, "If you want to be one of the children of your Father in heaven, then love your enemies as much as you love your friends" (see Matt. 5:43, 44).

Loving unconditionally is consistent with the relationship between Love (God) and Love's image and likeness. That is, if one knows the grace of God through Deity's unconditional love, then as God's likeness, one will inevitably express unconditional love.

"What we most need is the prayer of fervent desire for growth in grace, expressed in patience, meekness, love, and good deeds," Mrs. Eddy wrote in Science and Health (p. 4). Living grace is evidence of the ability to view God's creation from God's point of view. Then we know how loved we are, and we participate in that love for everyone else. Today we may well be called upon to resolve injustice for another, heal the pain of illness, or dissolve the anguish or anger of someone we don't even know—all because God's grace has touched us.

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