A singing heart

One thing I’ve deeply valued over the years is the ability to have “a singing heart.” By this I mean being able to see “a world more bright” (Mary Baker Eddy, Poems, p. 12) even in a time of trial. How do I achieve this? By being grateful for what I’m learning in my present experience even when things may not always seem ideal.

Here’s an example. Many years ago, my husband was killed in a plane crash. As a Christian Scientist, I knew that he was always in God’s care, but that didn’t mean that I had no feelings about what had happened. 

The hardest part was when I was alone at night and began to think about how he must have felt when the event was taking place. That was not exactly an easy time to have a singing heart.

One day while I was having a tennis lesson from another Christian Scientist, he noticed the sadness in my expression, and he said, lovingly but firmly: “Don’t make a reality of it.” 

Mentally, I said to him, “You would think it was pretty real, too, if it had happened to you.” Every once in a while after that his words would be replayed in my thought, as did my mental answer to him. Then one day I learned what I needed to understand from these replays. I had to refocus my thought on my true sense of identity. 

It was as though God was responding to my feelings by saying: “But Beverly, you are making a reality of this episode. In fact, you’re dramatizing it.” That woke me up! My husband really was always in God’s care, and I needed to focus on that rather than on the event. From these insights, I regained the natural sense of harmony and joy that had always felt like a singing heart.

Maintaining this conviction of a singing heart is a day-by-day habitual state of thought. Mary Baker Eddy says in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures: “Heaven is not a locality, but a divine state of Mind …” (p. 291). 

Happiness is not the result of acquiring material things, nor is it dependent upon other persons in our experience. It is between God and oneself, and we gain a stronger conviction of permanent happiness as we understand more of Christian Science. As Science and Health puts it, “The effect of this Science is to stir the human mind to a change of base, on which it may yield to the harmony of the divine Mind” (p. 162).

As I prayed with these ideas, I saw more clearly than ever before that we each have a singing heart—not because of who is or is not present, but because the divine Mind is always there. Consequently, lasting joy comes down to this: It is between God and the individual—in my own case, between divine Mind and me. No one is ever left out. It is always possible to feel this harmonious presence. There’s no favoritism in divine Mind. He loves us all.

We gain a stronger conviction of permanent happiness as we understand more 
of Christian Science.

From then on I refused to be pulled down by thoughts that would oppose God’s goodness and love. And I have proved the validity of this approach time and again through a number of physical healings, as well as in threatening situations. Each time joy has come accompanied by gratitude before the outward evidence of healing was realized. 

We have a choice. We can accept or reject the joy that is always at hand. Once we’ve changed our thinking to a spiritual base, and thereby yielded to the harmony of the divine Mind, there will always be the possibility of feeling that song within, for no particular reason, just because it’s there. It is for everyone to enjoy regardless of the circumstances. In a sense, it’s at least a step in what we refer to as the working out of salvation. 

So then, what would I do if I were the only Christian Scientist in the world? Would I draw on every bit of understanding I have, or would I limit myself by taking a weak-kneed view of my situation? I’d have a choice: Sink or swim.

For my part, I’d put my trust in God, and claim my right to “a singing heart.”

December 3, 2012
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