It’s always the same “monster”
Sometimes inspiration comes from the most surprising places. For me, it was Scooby-Doo teaching me something about my practice of Christian Science.
Do you know that cartoon, Scooby-Doo, Where Are You? The premise is always the same: Shaggy and his friends—including his talking dog Scooby-Doo—travel around in their colorful van solving crimes. At first, they seem to be chasing monsters that have done something bad. But every time, they discover that the monster isn’t real. It’s always a regular person behind a mask.
It struck me that this is similar to the way we sometimes approach problems in our lives.
As a student of Christian Science, I pray regularly for myself and for the world. Often, I pray by recognizing God as completely good, as the only power, and by knowing that all of us were created to reflect God’s qualities. This isn’t always easy to believe or understand when I’m struggling with insecurities, health issues, or relationship problems, or when I’m worried about the state of the world. Each of these problems can seem like a different monster that I’m trying to chase down and defeat.
But here’s what I’ve realized: Any thought that makes us feel like there’s a problem is the same “monster” every time. No matter what mask it’s wearing, it’s still just the belief that we are separate from God and His love.
A few years ago, after getting into a mild car accident, I started to experience driving anxiety. When I moved to a new state that had higher speed limits and more unpredictable drivers, my anxiety turned into terror. I had panic attacks behind the wheel and would have to pull over because I felt it wasn’t safe. Things got even worse when I also became afraid of severe weather in this new state. Being on the road when a storm hit was one of my worst nightmares.
On the surface, this anxiety seemed to have sprouted from my new circumstances. But as I began to pray, my prayers helped me realize that the root of this fear was the belief that I could be separated from God long enough to be in danger.
But the Bible tells us countless times that as God’s creation, we are one with Him. For instance, in the book of Acts, it says, “In [God] we live, and move, and have our being; as certain also of your own poets have said, For we are also his offspring” (17:28). This means that we express God as His creation. If God is like the sun, then we are like the sun’s rays. You can’t separate the two. Thinking about this idea was comforting, but every time I got in the car, the anxiety would bubble up again.
No matter what mask a monster wearing, it’s still just the belief that we are separated from God and His love.
One day, I was going to an event over half an hour away. The sky was blue, sprinkled with cottony clouds, and I was looking forward to the drive. But the moment I got on the highway, I hit traffic. I was frustrated and anxious about the way people were driving. Then I looked to my left and saw dark clouds approaching. At a red light, I checked my weather app and saw that a severe storm was heading right toward me.
Immediately, I called a Christian Science practitioner. She stayed on the phone with me as the wind swayed the car, and rain and hail pounded on the roof. I shared with her how much this verse from a hymn in the Christian Science Hymnal had helped me many times while driving. The third verse reads,
Beneath the shadow of His mighty wing;
In that sweet secret of the narrow way,
Seeking and finding, with the angels sing:
“Lo, I am with you alway,”—watch and pray.
(Mary Baker Eddy, Poems, p. 4)
This hymn reminded me that God doesn’t stop being God. God doesn’t take a hike and leave us vulnerable. Even if it feels that way, that doesn’t make it true.
I realized I didn’t have to be fooled by this version of the belief that I could be separated from God. I couldn’t be separated from God—ever. And right in the midst of this traffic and storm, the fear completely evaporated. The sweet presence I felt could only be one thing—what Christian Science calls the Christ.
My white-knuckle grip on the steering wheel loosened. I felt watched over, protected, and completely safe. As I hung up the phone, the traffic started moving. Up ahead, the sky was brilliant blue and clear. The storm passed just as quickly as it had arrived.
Since then, I haven’t had a panic attack while behind the wheel. Even my fear of severe storms has lessened.
I didn’t pray to make the storm go away or to make people drive more carefully. I just had to pull the mask off, see the monster for the lie that it was, and recognize what was true. God was present and guiding everyone on that road, including me. Case closed!
