I didn't know what to make of the comment at first. The author of an article I was reading said he was thrilled that his God had changed. A paragraph or so later I found out what he meant. His concept of God had changed.

But that's not all. The writer said he no longer thought of the Almighty the way he had when growing up: as a stern, unmerciful snoop, watching his every move, ready to pile on guilt—or worse, punishment—at the first sign of a slip-up. Instead, over time he had come to think of God as a dear friend, supportive, tender, forgiving. He credited this change of view to many things. But most of all to his prayer and meditation.

And there was a bonus. This new idea of God resulted in a change of character for the author. Endless brooding over past mistakes, he says, is gone. He smiles more. Decisionmaking isn't as worrisome a process as it once was. He's a lot more confident. God is his helper—not his parole officer—he has realized.

An extraordinary personal transformation, to be sure. Yet when looking at the complex regional and global issues that deeply affect our lives today, one might think that a person's change of character, as inspiring as that is, is inconsequential by comparison. Why should we care? Because character counts on all fronts, large and small.

The evolution or resolution of macro issues—from building peace to preserving the environment to improving education—often comes down to the cumulative interactions and behavior of countless individuals. A good nature—patience, civility, perseverance, honesty, unselfishness—can play a pivotal and uplifting role, whether at the bargaining table or the kitchen table.

Still, to undertake such a thoroughgoing personal change may seem like a daunting task, requiring strong will and a lot of determination. But the experience of the writer mentioned earlier suggests otherwise. It's hard to overestimate the power of higher ideals, of new thought-models, to turn a life around. Or the ability of prayer to reveal the kind of thought-models that shape our characters and lives.

I'm reminded of the time I had spent many months trying to resolve some troubles with a neighbor. There were several late-night beer parties each week in this person's front yard. Eventually someone in the neighborhood would call on the police to intervene, which they did. But that didn't change the pattern of disturbances.

Finally I started to pray for an answer. At first that seemed to be going nowhere. Then one day as I was driving home, I thought about this neighbor who lived across the street, and I was filled with regret that our family lived where we did. "Why here," my heart cried out?

Then this surprising idea came to me: "Because God loves them enough to give them a good example. Maybe, somehow, I could learn to be a better neighbor to this man."

With that, my regret vanished. So did the frustration I had lived with for nearly a year. Not only was this idea of God's love humbling to me; it served as a new thought-model. I understood a little more what it means to be God's child, and how I should be living in order to reflect God's totally unconditional love.

In all honesty, the next day I loved going over to visit this neighbor and getting to know him better. I even offered to help him fix up his yard, which, when he got over the shock, he welcomed! From that day forward our relationship improved, and so did the neighborhood. The disturbances subsided over the weeks that followed.

The character-changing power of higher ideals came as no surprise to Mary Baker Eddy, a spiritual healer and good neighbor to the world. In her sermon called The People's Idea of God, she said: "This more perfect idea, held constantly before the people's mind, must have a benign and elevating influence upon the character of nations as well as individuals, and will lift man ultimately to the understanding that our ideals form our characters, that as a man 'thinketh in his heart, so is he'" (pp. 2–3).

Higher ideals truly are powerful. Heartchanging and character-changing. Even world-changing.

Russ Gerber, Associate Editor