A clearer vision of God’s gentle presence

Last summer, working in my garden, I picked up a potted plant and a stalk from the plant poked directly into my eye. Pain and fear flooded in. But I had had a couple of very definitive healings in the past year, so when those feelings arose, I was also convinced that this situation was not as it seemed.

I knew it was important to strenuously resist the claim of accident, which was simply a mental assertion that there was a moment or circumstance when I had been separated from God. A few days before, I had gained great inspiration by thinking of the presence of God’s gentle presence. Until then I had not truly embraced the fact that God’s infinity and supremacy are with me, right here and now. So my first prayerful step was to assert Love’s presence.

I made the decision to be steadfast, not to yield to fear, and to stay cheerful for my family. We had planned to go swimming at a nearby pond, so on the drive there, I sat in the back seat quietly and continued praying. I had brought a copy of Science and Health with me, but my vision was blurry, so it was hard to read. I remembered reading a testimony of a woman whose eyes were so bad that she could only read one sentence of Science and Health at a time. She wrote, “Having finished a sentence I would lay the book down and think it over, trying to come to a conclusion as to whether or not I could accept it as true…Every time…I came to the conclusion that what I had read was the truth” (Anna S. van Leeuwen, Journal, March 1918).

And she was healed.

I decided to adopt her method. I read a sentence and really prayed with it before moving on to the next one. And I kept doing that, not yielding to discouragement.

The physical condition did not change much that afternoon or evening. My eye was sore and my vision blurry. But at a certain point, the fear subsided somewhat. I realized that, apart from the thought of accident, I had to handle thoughts of irritation in my relationships with some people close to me, to be honest about what I was seeing in others. Then I did my best to turn all my thoughts about others over to God, asking God to show me what She was seeing of each person’s nature.

When I awoke the next morning, the condition of the eye was much the same, but my thought was different. I thanked God for Her presence, and asked humbly what I needed to know. Very quickly, this verse from Hymn 66 came to me: “Thou, Soul, inspiring—give us vision clear, / Break earth-bound fetters, sweep away the veil, / Show the new heaven and earth that shall prevail. / Alleluia! Alleluia!”

On its surface, this seemed too simple: obviously, I was in search of clear vision for my eye. But as I thought about it, the verse gave me the spiritual depth I had been seeking. The vision I yearned for was not a physical thing at all, but a clear perception of God’s ever-harmonious universe, including me and all the people in my life. Christian Science is what “sweeps away the veil” of a so-called life in matter and reveals the “new heaven and earth” that in fact is right here, where we are. It always has been and always will be. And just as the hymn ends with “Alleluia! Alleluia!,” so it seemed absolutely fitting that I should rejoice in all that God has done.

I took my morning walk, praying along these lines all the way, feeling joy, gratitude, and a renewed sense of brotherly love. By the time I got home from my walk, the soreness in the eye had diminished substantially, and by the next morning it was back to normal.

Even more than the physical relief, I was so grateful for the fresh understanding that I need to watch my thought closely. At many points during the day, I ask myself, “What are you seeing?” If the answer is political strife, other people’s faults, environmental catastrophe, or any other of the myriad claims of mortal mind, then I know I can turn my thought to God’s gentle presence, and that this thought is not just comforting, but powerful, healing, and joy- and life-giving.