Several years ago, while our daughter was in the tenth grade, we learned from her that she was having difficulty seeing the chalkboard at the front of the class. She explained that when she looked directly at the board, or anything for that matter, she could only see with her peripheral vision and the area in the center of her vision was fuzzy. That evening I discussed the problem with my husband, who is not a Christian Scientist, and a decision was made to take our daughter to a local optometrist to have her eyes examined. I was grateful then, and continue to be grateful, that my husband and I can respect each other’s thoughts on healing and make important decisions together.

When we called the optometrist to set up an appointment and described the situation, he wanted to see our daughter immediately. As a result of that appointment, he said we should take her right away to a well-known facility for eyes in the city. When we called to make the appointment, they, too, wanted to see her immediately, so we drove there the next day. After an examination, a diagnosis was made of a degenerative eye disease. A doctor outlined what that meant and described possible physical causes. What I remember the most is that he used the word stress. He recommended that we return for a follow-up visit in a couple of weeks so he could look at my daughter’s eyes again. 

That word stress brought to my thought the word pressure, and a statement in the textbook of Christian Science, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. It says, “Christian Scientists must live under the constant pressure of the apostolic command to come out from the material world and be separate” (p. 451). I saw this as a directive to me to realize that eyes can only be as they are defined in the Glossary of Science and Health: “Eyes. Spiritual discernment,—not material but mental” (p. 586). For me, this mental concept is what separates Christian Science from the claims of the material world. I saw that this report of eye disease could only stem from a false belief of eyes as physical structures. Another statement from Science and Health describes the limitations of leaning on this material view, “How transient a sense is mortal sight, when a wound on the retina may end the power of light and lens!” (p. 214).

As we drove back home, our daughter and I rejoiced to know that the lack of ability to physically see clearly could be healed and that this healing could result from knowing and progressing in spiritual discernment. As a Sunday School student, our daughter had learned the words of the hymn “Feed My Sheep,” written by Mrs. Eddy, and we happily sang it together, with special emphasis on these words:

We knew we could listen for God’s voice and that we could follow it and rejoice in it, knowing that no matter how rugged things seemed to be, we would be cared for and would “see” the healing. We talked about our individual identities as children of God, divine Mind, and that we didn’t need to buy into the argument that something could enter our being that didn’t come from the one, supreme, good, Father-Mother God. And we discussed how we are perfect reflections of God.

After that car trip home, we went on with our day. I don’t recall the situation being discussed again. The issue simply melted into its “native nothingness” (see Science and Health, p. 365) and the symptoms ended.

We did go through with the follow-up visit with the eye doctor. Our daughter recently reminded me of what he had said. Here are her words: “I do remember vividly the doctor making a statement that he would just have to write ‘miracle’ on my chart as this condition was gone. He told me it does not typically disappear.”  

Our daughter has had physical exams since that time for positions with two local police departments and was each time declared to have healthy eyes and good vision. 

Rita Jones
Hyannis, Massachusetts, US