Angry at a friend? Love is here to help.
I was mad at my friend Maya. She didn’t come to my party, and I felt snubbed and embarrassed.
All weekend, I kept replaying the incident in my mind—feeding the fire of grievance and reminding myself that I had every right to be mad.
I was acting like Jonah in the Bible. Jonah was furious with God for showing mercy to the Ninevites—a group of people that he didn’t believe deserved God’s forgiveness. He plunked himself down in the hot sun to pout (see Jonah 4:1–11). He basically said to God, “I’d rather die than forgive!” God grew a leafy tree to shade Jonah where he was sulking in the heat. I love this example of God’s unfailing love, and the humorous way it unfolded.
I kept replaying the incident in my mind—feeding the fire of grievance and reminding myself that I had every right to be mad.
Anyway, in a Jonah move, I skipped church that Sunday and rode my bike to a music festival alone. When I arrived, the main acts hadn’t yet started. But six Tibetan monks were chanting in deep, low voices.
“Perfect,” I thought. “Strangers chanting in a language I don’t understand—I can nurse my grudge in peace!”
I lay down on a sunny patch of grass, closed my eyes, and thought some things about my friend that weren’t the nicest—thoughts of self-righteousness and feelings of being wronged. But this kind of thinking keeps us focused on our grievances, among other things, and, as a Christian Scientist, I really did know better than to indulge in these unloving thoughts.
Suddenly, a shadow crossed my face. I opened my eyes, and there stood my friend!
It was Maya, shading my eyes from the bright sun. With her blonde hair illuminated and her brown eyes smiling, she looked like a tilting, friendly sunflower.
Suddenly, my anger lifted. I realized I didn’t have to keep building my case against her. I felt the anger and resistance detach from me and wash away. It wasn’t me doing it; it was the action of divine Love. I felt like I was seeing reality—who I was as God’s expression and who she really was as God’s, Love’s, expression, too. Free from my commentary and projections.
Without a word, I stood and hugged her. My whole grievance had simply evaporated. No mental argument. No heroic effort. Just the warmth of Love, God, melting my defensive anger.
I’d done everything to resist this healing. But I knew better; I cherished an article published in Mary Baker Eddy’s book Miscellaneous Writings 1883–1896 titled “Love” (pp. 249–250), which emphasizes the power of divine Love to heal and transform, even in the face of hatred and discord.
I knew that, as the Discoverer of Christian Science, Mrs. Eddy had faced many periods of persecution, betrayal, and misrepresentation. That’s why her teachings, like that article on Love, aren’t theories; they’re field-tested instructions for meeting injustice and hurt without violence, revenge, or retaliation.
Even while I was stewing in resentment, God’s love remained active—quietly, steadily moving me.
So I understood what had happened that day. Even while I was stewing in resentment, God’s love remained active—quietly, steadily moving me. That spiritual action dissolved my grievance and let me see Maya as God does: radiant, whole, and impossible not to love.
God’s grace, flowing from Love’s love for us, doesn’t wait for us to be ready. It breaks through self-justification, fear, and stubbornness. It reaches every heart with no exceptions. The same Love that cared for Jonah and melted my resistance that afternoon is here for all of us: always active, unstoppable, and irresistibly healing.
