Some things we want to forget. Blunders. Embarrassing moments. A falling out with a friend. If only we could simply not recall such experiences, not think about them ever again.

An elementary school teacher, in showing her class how hard it sometimes seems to forget, gave the students an illustration. She asked them to forget about dinosaurs, not to think about them at all. She stood quietly for a few moments. Pretty soon the students started laughing. They agreed, it seemed awfully hard to get rid of the thought of dinosaurs.

Some things really should be forgotten, though, and the question may be just how to do this when something seems unforgettable. But not just how; there's also what. What is best forgotten altogether?

The Bible provides some very helpful guidance regarding both how and what. In Paul's letter to the Philippians he has this to say: "Brethren, I count not myself to have apprehended: but this one thing I do, forgetting those things which are behind, and reaching forth unto those things which are before, I press toward the mark for the prize of the high calling of God in Christ Jesus" (3:13, 14). The point from this isn't that we're just to stop thinking about something unpleasant, to forget about wrongs of the past; rather, we're encouraged to let something far more substantial and important occupy our thought. We can look to the example Christ Jesus gave us, realize the possibility of following it more fully, and then move forward in that direction. This is how we're able to put behind us what is no part of the Christly standard.

As much as it might seem we can't avoid thinking about past mistakes, even long after they've been corrected, the fact is we do have the ability to choose what occupies our thought. We can choose not to ruminate on the errors, mistakes, and wrongs of the past. We can choose to think about what's true, what's right, what has real value and is permanent. In a word, we can choose to have the Mind that was in Christ Jesus, knowing that the only thoughts we can truly have are from our divine source, from the one Mind, God.

When our desires and affections are spiritual, when we devote our time to understanding the nature of our creator, to bringing out more of that nature in the quality of the thoughts we entertain—in greater purity, love, justice, and so forth—we're doing more than merely avoiding thinking about a mortal, material past. We're discovering we actually don't relate to a mortal past (or present). We're coming to see more clearly that man is the wholly spiritual and perfect offspring of a perfect creator, of Spirit, not matter; that our consciousness has never actually included anything unlike the pure good that comes from God, from the divine Mind that man reflects.

Because this is true, right now, we have a sure basis for ceasing to think of ourselves, or anyone, as a fallible mortal. This applies not only to past regrets but to evil of any kind. The truth of man's being, of our spiritual origin and God-derived nature, is the basis for conquering sin, for healing disease, for proving throughout the whole range of our lives that we aren't tied to the history of a mortal, material selfhood.

There's an example of how all this applies to healing, in Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy. At the back of the book, the chapter "Fruitage" includes an account of a healing of a sprained ankle in which the individual had prayed all day, and yet the next morning the ankle appeared to be no better. The person decided to forget about the physical trouble altogether, and instead began studying more about God and man. "Feeling that I had done all that I could," the writer says, "I decided to stop thinking about it. I took my copy of Science and Health and began reading. Very soon I became so absorbed in the book that I forgot all about my ankle; it went entirely out of my thought, for I had a glimpse of all God's creation as spiritual, and for the time being lost sight of my material selfhood. After two hours I laid the book down and walked into another room. When next I thought of my ankle, I found it was not hurting me" (p. 603). The ankle was healed.

What can be quickly and completely left behind—forgotten—is what we know has no reality, no truth to it. We're always free to stop thinking about a lie. This may require some persistence, but we can, instead, look to what God has made, and to our real selfhood as the very expression of His perfect being, a selfhood that is sinless and diseaseless. Mrs. Eddy writes, "The denial of material selfhood aids the discernment of man's spiritual and eternal individuality, and destroys the erroneous knowledge gained from matter or through what are termed the material senses" (ibid., p. 91).

Does that mean we should forget every thought of the past? No, it doesn't. But as we understand more of our inherent purity and perfection, our recollections will be of progress, of the lessons that have helped us understand and bring out our true nature, of the proofs we've experienced of the power of Spirit over the flesh. Only what is good in our consciousness is lasting. And so our memories can be filled with healing and regeneration.

Russ Gerber