One small step out of terror

By Tony Lobl

DURING THE SECOND WORLD WAR, my mother wound up living in London as a Jewish refugee fleeing Nazi Germany. She often told me of her admiration for the strength, courage, and humor of the British people while undergoing the blitz, especially during the times they spent literally underground, in the capital's tube—the subway stations of London that kept them safe during these devastating bombings.

I have never faced anything as intense as the Blitz. But a few years ago, as a Londoner, I lived through the Irish Republican Army's bombing campaign against Britain. I loved London, and I wasn't about to stay cooped up at home because of the malicious actions of a few. But bombs were regularly being planted on the transport system, including in the very Underground that my mum and others had fled to for refuge. I can still see myself, down in the tube station, thinking, "What if . . . ?" Terror is exactly the right word to describe what comes knocking at the door of thought in these circumstances.

I also recall getting beyond this dreadful time by focusing on what I understood to be the spiritual truth about the situation. It wasn't always easy to get past the relentless fear that evil might be imminent, but my prayer really made a difference. During these times, I might start my prayer by affirming that God was good and was in control. But my prayer would go beyond this to become an inner conviction that good is supreme. This confidence, gained spiritually, would bring me a deep sense of security.

The basis of my prayer came from ideas I was picking up as a new reader of Science and Health. For example, this: "Evil is not supreme; good is not helpless; nor are the so-called laws of matter primary, and the law of Spirit secondary" (p. 207). I found that thinking about ideas like this was an antidote to the fear of danger.

One time I caught a vivid glimpse of the idea that God is good and has the upper hand, and that "evil is not supreme." I was alone in the video editing suite in which I then worked, and I was thinking about a gross historical evil I had just learned of, and which was troubling me—the massacre of thousands upon thousands of Armenians at the turn of the century. As I prayed, I listened for God's inspiration to come. I recognized that while I couldn't rewrite the past, I could at least take charge of my own thinking in the present. I could challenge my own belief that evil is dominant in human events. I could instead stand for the truth that spiritual good must constantly be gaining ground—even for the victims of the past terror that I was thinking about.

If nothing else, the mental freedom this prayer brought enabled me to be a positive, productive employee that day, not distressed and distracted. But something else happened. That evening, on that same subway that had earlier threatened my peace of mind, I shifted away from worrying about possible bombs and instead focused on reformed bombers. The headline article of that day's Evening Standard, which so many commuters were reading, told of two IRA terrorists who were giving up violence to devote their lives to promoting peace.

This was just one small step of progress on the way to getting beyond Northern Ireland's "Troubles." But to me it was significant. It was precious evidence, then and now, that God—not evil—does indeed have the upper hand.

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March 25, 2002

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