Nature gives visible expression to invisible truth, Ralph Waldo Emerson asserted in Nature, his 1836 book that laid the foundation for transcendentalism. Behind the curtain of material beauty lies spiritual reality, and therefore, as Emerson wrote, “‘every object rightly seen, unlocks a new faculty of the soul.’”

Later in the 19th century, Mary Baker Eddy went further. She discovered that seeing the spiritual reality behind surface appearances enabled Christ Jesus to heal—and can enable everyone today to heal on the same metaphysical basis.

“Metaphysics resolves things into thoughts, and exchanges the objects of sense for the ideas of Soul,” Mrs. Eddy explained in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures  (p. 269). And when, as here, she used Soul as a synonym for God, she capitalized the word.

Everyone can breathe in a conscious awareness of Spirit’s sustaining influence and harmonizing, safe-guarding power. 

Who hasn’t felt the unlocking of “a new faculty of the soul”—felt the presence of God, our indivisible divine Soul—when looking to an ocean horizon, watching the slow dawn of light at daybreak, or stargazing? From the jagged-rock cliffs of Ireland’s Skellig Islands and their desert echo in Utah’s Monument Valley to Kenya’s Masai Mara and to the Pacific coastline of California’s Big Sur, countless expressions of nature unlock in us a feeling of unity with what the Bible calls “the deep things of God” (I Cor. 2:10). 

A power similar to nature also abounds in words. Words can give audible expression to inaudible reality, revealing meaning that goes beyond language and takes spiritual radar to detect. Could it be that every word “rightly seen, unlocks a new faculty of the soul”?

Take the following three words—which, like Soul, Mrs. Eddy unveiled as names for God on the basis of her study of the Bible.

Spirit. The word spirit comes from Latin: spiritus, meaning breath, and spirare, meaning breathe. Job caught sight of the spiritual connotation when he declared, “The spirit of God hath made me, and the breath of the Almighty hath given me life” (Job 33:4).

Job glimpsed that “the spirit of God,” not material biology, is the true animating power that breathes life into us. The divine Spirit, not the inhaling and exhaling of oxygen, provides the genuine strength and substance of our being. And everyone can glimpse this. Everyone can breathe in a conscious awareness of Spirit’s sustaining influence and harmonizing, safe-guarding power. Everyone can feel the courage, wisdom, serenity, and well-being that God continuously inspires in us. 

Inspire comes from the same Latin root as spirit. So we can feel ourselves “inSpirited”—filled with the inspiration of Spirit! Which breathes into us the deepest truth of all: We are Godlike—spiritual, complete, able, satisfied, good. God, Spirit, also breathes into us the expectation that we will surely see our human experience tangibly manifest this truth. 

Principle. The word principle also comes from Latin: principium, meaning beginning, and from princip-, princeps, meaning initiator. So the principle of our being is the initiator of our being, the origin, fountainhead, and ongoing impulse and spark of our being. What initiates our being? Matter? No, Spirit (we covered that). God initiates our being and does so continuously, just as a mother initiates love for her children continuously. 

Similar to the way a sunbeam maintains scientific unity with the sun, we maintain scientific unity with Principle. Therefore, our being must surely be coherent, organized, and under control. Our sticking to this metaphysical viewpoint transforms our consciousness, which then transforms our experience and brings us blessings in forms that meet our human needs, including physical restoration and healing.

Good. As Mary Baker Eddy’s research uncovered, “In the Saxon and twenty other tongues good is the term for God” (Science and Health, p. 286). And Christian Science reinforces this age-old truth: Good is God—the only power and presence. Now plumb the origin of the word good, and you find that it’s akin to the ancient Sanskrit word gadhya, meaning “what one clings to.” So from the earliest essence of human language springs a core reality: It’s natural to cling to good. As natural as it is for flowers to turn to the sun. 

When you look up the word cling, you find this: “to adhere as if glued firmly, to hold on tightly or tenaciously.” Prompting the introspection, What do we adhere to in our daily life as if glued firmly? Confusion or composure? Worry or serenity? Despair or resilience? Aggression or grace?

What do we hold onto tenaciously? Anxiety about an uncertain future or confidence in a good, God-directed present? Age and decline or vibrancy and health? 

What do we cling to? 

Our choice brings practical benefits, and not only to ourselves, but to society at large. As Science and Health urges, “Hold thought steadfastly to the enduring, the good, and the true, and you will bring these into your experience proportionably to their occupancy of your thoughts” (p. 261).