Vision and Work
When Christian Science comes into one's life and its wonderful healing is experienced, the human heart is apt to remember the mount of transfiguration, where holy ones were seen and conversed with, and garments shone "exceeding white as snow; so as no fuller on earth can white them." In the Scriptural account of the experience of Jesus and the chosen disciples on the mount of revelation, we read that the Master went down from this elevation to meet the sick and dusty multitude, to hear and help to overcome their complaints, to heal their diseases and their sorrows. We do not read that this was considered a hardship; yet is it not true that many who have been healed and uplifted by Christian Science, when confronted by the grind and fret of human existence, would fain wish to stay on the mountain top where it was exalted, pure, and altogether beautiful? There is a beauty, however, which exceeds mere contemplation or even rapt joyousness. It is the beauty of loving service. When we commence to look for and to see that wonderful beauty, then such service ceases to be harsh or grinding. A verse runs:—
"The mount for vision; but below
The paths of daily duty go;
And nobler life therein shall own
The pattern on the mountain shown."
For daily service to be joyous, we must surely get the correct valuation of it. Perhaps it is felt that surroundings are sordid; that the particular person or persons with whom one has to do, or who are to be helped, are peculiarly unfit or ungrateful. But this is just the specious argument of so-called mortal mind, which loves to plume itself upon its own superiority or fineness or delicacy, when all the time it has never really proved these things but has only fancied them, or, it may be, has complacently claimed them out of its own self-love.
There is a familiar saying to the effect that "it's all in the day's work;" by this meaning that a philosophy which does whatever comes to hand, and does it cheerfully and well, is better than a complacent selfishness, always running to complain or seeking to pick and choose what it shall do, so that it will only essay that which is to its own liking. The seasoned and experienced worker in any line knows that to do what the hand finds to do, to accomplish all that is in the day's work, whether it seems trivial or difficult, important or of slight account, has helped him to come to his present standing. He knows, too, that work well done surely causes him to go up higher, not to an easier position, but rather to more difficult work and a more responsible place; and he is content that it should be so. By such a course, and only by such a course of labor and experience, is he fitted to do the harder things which later come to his hand; and thereby he continues to progress.
If this is true in material things, is it not equally true of spiritual effort and of spiritual labor? Why, then, should the student of Christian Science feel despondent because his tasks seem tedious or unimportant? Such a student, perhaps, has more than once sung the hymn, a verse of which says of God:—
"Thy hand in all things I behold,
And all things in Thy hand."
If he sings this hymn truthfully, then he does indeed know that where he finds himself must be just where he must work; what he finds there to do, whether he likes it or not, must be just what he is to try his "prentice hand" upon—as the phrase of Burns runs; and the sooner he falls to with a will, the sooner he will prove his faith by his works upon just what is there to do, and the sooner will he demonstrate that he is fitted for other work, which he may or may not like better.
Mrs. Eddy, the Discoverer and Founder of Christian Science, says in "Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures" (p. 516), "The sunlight glints from the church-dome, glances into the prison-cell, glides into the sick-chamber, brightens the flower, beautifies the landscape, blesses the earth." Reading this, a fanciful thought might occur to the effect that maybe the sunbeam does not like to glance into the prison-cell, where there is gloom, uncleanness, despair, squalor, hopelessness. Perhaps it would much rather shine on the green field, the sweet flower, the rippling brook. How much more inspiring, how much more enjoyable such shining would be! Yet, is it not true that the prison-cell needs the sunbeam quite as much as these others? Is not the prison-cell indeed in desperate need of the sunbeam, of its brightness, its purity, its message from heaven? How lovely, then, to remember that the meek and patient sunbeam just shines, with unselfed obedience, fulfilling its mission. It is true also that it is not hurt or contaminated by so shining. Not one fleck or stain comes upon the purity of its beams, however unclean that prison-cell; nor does it lose its good cheer, however black the gloom and despair of that on which it falls. It shines and glows; its pencil of light remains straight and golden. It is gentle yet powerful, because the great sun is its source. It cannot be quenched in its work, because its efficacy depends altogether on its source. From that source alone streams forth its purity, and nothing can ever darken or extinguish even so much as one single ray of it.
Meditating upon these facts, the Christian Scientist who feels that before him is a dark outlook, almost akin to a prison-cell, can take heart. He can let his light shine on what it is called to shine upon, and he must do so meekly, bravely, and persistently; because all the time the great sun of divine Love is supporting such shining. Remembering this, he also remembers that he cannot be hurt or stained by such seeming contact; for all the time his thought can be with God, divine Principle, with whom he works, rather than with the difficulty or undesirableness of the task which engages him. With such thoughts, he will go on and on from the day's work to the day's work; and as he gravitates Godward, that work will slowly but surely also gravitate Godward in all of its attributes. Each smallest effort is helping all humanity; each better thought, each earnest prayer, is helping toward the glorious universal uplift:—
"No drop but serves the slowly lifting tide,
No dew, but has an errand to some flower,
No smallest star but sheds some helpful ray."
Copyright, 1923, by The Christian Science Publishing Society, Falmouth and St. Paul Streets, Boston, Massachusetts. Entered at Boston post office as second-class matter. Acceptance for mailing at a special rate of postage provided for in section 1103, Act of October 3, 1917, authorized on July 11, 1918.
