I love to sing. I sing in the car while driving. I sing in the kitchen while doing dishes. I sing while walking along streets. What I love most about singing are those moments when I’m singing a hymn and I can feel a harmony with the ideas being expressed, which deepens my commitment to this living Truth—the divine Science of the Christ. Often, when I am up late at night praying for that deeper understanding of my own spiritual identity, these words take on special meaning for me:

About a year ago, though, I suddenly lost all ability to sing. I would open my mouth, but the notes were raspy. I would actually start choking every time I tried to sing, as my throat felt perpetually dry.

I knew this condition wasn’t from God, yet I was willing to comply somewhat with the effects. After all, I didn’t need to sing. In the bigger scheme of the world’s problems, this affliction was, at most, inconvenient. And I thought maybe my singing days were just over. 

Still, a little nudge of hope encouraged me to pray. I thought about the need to always examine my thought and be humbly willing to “sing a new song.” 

There are several different psalms that mention this. For instance, Psalm 33 says, “Sing unto him a new song” (verse 3), and Psalm 96 commands us: “O sing unto the Lord a new song: sing unto the Lord, all the earth. Sing unto the Lord, bless his name; shew forth his salvation from day to day. Declare his glory among the heathen, his wonders among all people” (verses 1–3).

To me, this meant being willing to be alert to old or stale ways of thinking and to embrace a higher, purer understanding of God and His, Her, glorious existence. I prayed to understand that because our true, spiritual identity is the image and likeness of divine Life itself, we have the ability to reach what I consider the “higher notes of life”—not just in singing, but in every aspect of life—through deepening our understanding of God. I also decided to be more conscientious about voicing good, truth, instead of voicing less than beautiful words about others. 

Then one day months later, I felt led to pick up a few Sunday School students from my branch Church of Christ, Scientist, for an afternoon adventure. Our city had had snow for several weeks, and the schools had been closed for several days. The children’s parents were grateful for some time alone, and the kids were ready for something new. 

One of the children had just gotten a new Bible for Christmas and started to read the 23rd Psalm out loud to all of us in the car. Except for her sweet, sincere voice, the car was silent. I was in awe as all the children quietly listened. I was humbled at this tangible evidence, in this precious moment, that worldly thinking, such as cynicism and mistrust of God’s existence and power, was unable to choke out the endearing song of good this young person was communicating through that psalm. In her voice I heard the sweet ring of Truth.

As I quietly listened to her childlike voice read the line “he restoreth my soul,” those words rang true to me, although at the time I didn’t directly connect it with my own struggle with singing. Sweetness, innocence, love of truth, childlike trust, and humility are beautiful elements that nurture our spiritual sense and create a melody all on their own—a melody our very being naturally loves and yearns to hear. In giving the spiritual sense of Deity in that psalm, Mary Baker Eddy writes, for that same line, “[Love] restoreth my soul [spiritual sense]: …” (Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 578).

I understood even more deeply Christ Jesus’ statement, “Whosoever shall not receive the kingdom of God as a little child shall in no wise enter therein” (Luke 18:17). I felt a present understanding of God’s perfect creation. 

And then that night I felt inspired to sing, and the words just came out in the loveliest tones. Since then, I’ve been able to sing freely.

As I’ve thought more deeply about that healing, my appreciation for the role of singing praise to God in cultivating our spiritual sense—our ability to discern spiritual reality—has blossomed. Science and Health states, “Whatever inspires with wisdom, Truth, or Love—be it song, sermon, or Science—blesses the human family with crumbs of comfort from Christ’s table, feeding the hungry and giving living waters to the thirsty” (p. 234).

Later I looked up the word choke and found one of its antonyms to be restore. It’s such a blessing to know through the Science of the Christ that there is never a moment when our health can’t be restored by God through an understanding of His infinite presence. Daily cares, hardships, or even suggestions of an ongoing illness—all of these suggestions that we can be separated from God—can be washed away, and our joy can be restored, through a willingness to listen with childlike awe to every and any way the Christ comes to our consciousness. And I’m humbled to know that nothing can choke that out, for either me or mankind.

Shelly Richardson 
Eugene, Oregon, US