About three years ago I was undergoing training while attached to a Navy attack squadron. This squadron prepares Navy pilots to fly carrier-based jet attack aircraft. As part of my training I had to attend a survival school. Any aircrewman who might be assigned to flying duty in combat areas had to attend this school. The school strove to simulate a wilderness survival, and a subsequent prisoner-of-war, environment. It was common knowledge among pilots that one of the techniques used at the school was the hotbox confinement. Such a box was used to soften up prisoners before they were to be interrogated.

I was raised in Christian Science, and I have been practicing it sincerely for the past six years. However, since childhood, I had harbored a terrible fear of enclosed small spaces, a condition called claustrophobia. Two weeks before I was to attend the school, I decided I should get some help in seeing through this false sense of fear. I called a Christian Science Minister for Armed Services Personnel and made an appointment to see him in his office. I cannot now remember what specifically was said, but I vividly recall the understanding and warm assurance he expressed. He gave me some ideas to work with and said he would give me one prayerful treatment.

The following week when I stepped into that hotbox, curled my legs under me, and crouched down, the trapdoor was slammed shut and locked. Instead of that constricting choking fear I had been plagued with throughout my childhood whenever confined, I felt divine Love enfolding me. I experienced a sense of peace that left no room for thoughts of fear or of self. I knew my unity with God. Humanly, the box turned out to be the one shelter of warmth where I found freedom from physical harassment which characterizes this rugged school. It was a closet where the door was shut and I could pray.

I was joyously free of that old burden, and when I returned to my home station, I eagerly thanked the Christian Science Minister for his work.

A further proof of the healing came a year later. I was riding alone in a hotel elevator when a power failure occurred. The lights in the elevator went out, and there was complete silence. I was caught between floors. However, I immediately felt the light of Truth and the warm assurance of God, divine Love, filling that space. Although these may sound like grand phrases now, at that time they were a life-giving presence.

In a short while the electricity came back on, and I stepped from the elevator spiritually refreshed instead of physically and mentally distraught.

This is but one of the many healings for which I am very grateful.

Roger N. Whiteway
Virginia Beach, Virginia