Oct 13, 2008 |
by Annette Bridges. ©2006. All rights reserved.
When our care becomes the responsibility of loved ones, they could be faced with decisions that shouldn’t be theirs to make.
During the past few weeks, we’ve heard the life ending-sustaining debate between Terri Schiavo’s husband and parents. While each side wanted a different outcome, they seemed united in motive. Both felt they were carrying out Terri’s wishes and honoring her rights.
Supporters of each position were also united by their empathy toward Terri’s family members, their saddened hearts toward her plight, as well as their passionate beliefs about life. Yes, even the argument for death was about life – the belief that Terri’s own wishes would be to end a life that had a medical prognosis for a hopeless and dismal future.
This case has received much political and media attention. Through its course, folks have been encouraged to take the legal steps required so their families will not have to endure the decision-making battle of Terri’s family.
As I give thought to such decisions, I find myself arguing on the side of life. But more, a desire to make certain my own care and healing possibilities are not necessarily limited to one source of treatment. In so saying, I don’t want to belittle medical treatment or any other source of treatment. It’s more about a “leave no stone unturned” approach in a search for cure and healing.
I’ve read of numerous cases in which medical treatment had reached its limits and still healing appeared unattainable. And in these same cases, whether quickly or slowly, healing came about through persistent prayer, treatment in Christian Science or other alternative healing practices.
Such examples strengthen my hope and fortify my consecration to live. They teach me to never give up on the possibility for a life of health, productivity and potential. I guess my desire is for no one to give up on my life. Could this be selfish of me? I have known the anguish of caring for a loved one with a medically-concluded terminal diagnosis, watching them grow worse until their passing. But I can’t help but believe and hope that healing remains possible for every one and in every case.
While I feel I’ve reached a decision for my life, I do believe everyone must come to terms for his or her own life. That no one else should have that authority —or imposition — placed upon them.
Recently, I heard a song by Christian folksinger, Mindy Jostyn, called “Pool of Bethesda.” It tells the story from the book of John in the Bible, of a man healed by Christ Jesus. What inspires me about this story is that although this man was, as the song says, “crippled for most of his life, twisted by time, dammed by despair,” he apparently still waited for healing with some glimmer of hope. And his hope was finally realized through Christ Jesus. Yet, being healed by Christ Jesus was not how he expected to be healed.
He had been waiting to be placed in the pool of Bethesda at a certain time that brought the promise of healing. But years went by with him missing that perfect time. Still, he didn’t give up. While his healing came in an unexpected way, it did come.
For me, this Biblical healing account, while teaching not to give up on life and remain firm in hope, also teaches me to remain open-minded about the method in which healing can come. Not to limit my options and helplessly accept any diagnosis or fear as the final word on my life. Mary Baker Eddy, who named the healing system she discovered and practiced Christian Science, wrote, “The prayer that reforms the sinner and heals the sick is an absolute faith that all things are possible to God – a spiritual understanding of Him, an unselfed love.”
I don’t know what the future holds for my life. Nor can I outline with certainty the source of treatment I will choose through the remaining years of my life. But my hope is that I will never lose hope. That I will never give up on life. That I will remain expectant and firm in my faith that healing is possible.
“…..all things are possible to God….”
Yes, I do choose to put my faith in that promise. And I ask my loved ones to understand, accept and see my wishes through.
Oct 27, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
Have we become so cynical that we expect people to behave badly rather than do good or for bad things to happen rather than good?Needless to say, much of what we read or hear in the news is bad. Perhaps we’re not to blame for thinking bad is more prevalent than good — if our conclusion is based upon news reports. But maybe we’re not getting the whole world’s story? Just because more bad stuff makes headlines, does this mean good is not happening? Could it even be that good is actually more abundant than bad?
I started thinking about this over the holidays. I was listening to Christmas music, when Jim Nabors began singing. With great delight, I immediately started to reminisce about a favorite “Gomer Pyle” episode when Sgt. Carter heard Gomer sing for the first time. I recalled Sgt. Carter’s complete shock and utter surprise to discover that Gomer had such an incredible singing voice. And I started thinking about how many times I was more surprised by something wonderful and good than something bad.
I began to realize the low expectations I was having for my life, making such dire predictions as: “Surely the next phone call from a family member will be more bad news.” If a special occasion was approaching, I feared something would “come up” to somehow ruin it. And with every ache or pain, I imagined the worst possible scenario.
I had allowed my thoughts to become tainted with jaded negativity. This had happened so gradually and subtly, like a thief in the night, I’d been caught completely off guard and had become unsuspecting prey. Yes, I had been stupefied into believing that my life was governed by “Murphy’s Law.”
What is this so-called law anyway?
It was in 1949 when Ed Murphy, a McDonnell Douglas test engineer, was expressing his frustration over laboratory mistakes, when he exclaimed, “Anything that can possibly go wrong, will go wrong.” But hadn’t Mr. Murphy simply fallen victim to pessimism and skepticism rather than discovering a “law” that governs human nature and events? Perhaps we’ve given way too much credence to Ed Murphy’s own exasperation. Or, at least I think I had.
All my life, from one faith tradition to another, I’d been taught of one God, one divine Principle, governing the universe with divine laws that are omnipotent and omnipresent. I’d been taught that God is good, so His laws are good. And I’d been taught this means that good is more powerful than any theory, prediction or fear that suggests otherwise.
Could it be that I needed to learn more about how to apply these divine laws in my everyday life?
I read about Elijah when he was running for his life (1 Kings, Chapter 19). God spoke to Elijah in a still, small voice and nothing — not wind, earthquake or fire — could silence or disarm God’s voice. Is it not the same with God’s laws? Could I affirm the presence and power of God’s laws at all times and in all circumstances? And would this help me to hear the still, small voice of God’s truth whose light would dispel any dark images trying to overshadow my thought — my faith, my hope of good?
I’ve decided to be diligent in this new year at putting God’s divine laws into practice. And it’s already working. Every day is a day the Lord hath made. I know the Lord is good and only wants and sees good for his dear children. I’m learning that as I stand firm with this knowledge, even in difficult times, the opportunity and occasion arrive for good to overcome whatever appears as bad. This has included the dark forebodings of “bad” in my thought that actually had no basis whatsoever other than my fear.
Awareness and knowledge of God’s divine laws of good take away any foundation for fear. In fact, this knowledge brings with it an expectation that good – and not bad — is normal and natural. And with this expectation comes confidence and greater trust in God’s endless supply of goodness as well as a realization that good is a divine right for all of God’s children. And that includes you and me!
So, we don’t need to be surprised by good. We can expect it. And as we do, we’ll find good, we’ll see good and we’ll experience good.
Oct 27, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
Is there a God? If so, what is God like and how do I relate to this divine power? The recent buzz around the release of the movie The Golden Compass, based upon Philip Pullman’s first book in His Dark Materials trilogy, has prompted people to take a closer look at these questions. Although a children’s adventure tale on the surface, it introduces metaphysical themes, encourages individualism, and explores the importance of grappling with big ideas—of testing and proving them.
But the movie and books have also been accused of being anti-Christian and espousing atheistic beliefs. I was particularly intrigued by the publicized fears that readers or moviegoers would somehow be harmfully influenced, or that children would be falsely educated and begin to question the spiritual ideas that they’d been brought up to know and love. As I left the theater after seeing this movie with my grown daughter, I wasn’t feeling shocked or challenged in my beliefs. But I couldn’t help wondering if this controversy was hinged on a broader misunderstanding on many fronts about God.
Instead of being harmful, questions—even those that doubt the very existence of God—can actually open the way for greater dialogue about the nature of our Creator. The rejection of a narrow concept of God is all too familiar to me. When I became a student of Christian Science, I was presented with a very different view of God, Jesus, and salvation than the one I’d learned in the faith tradition of my youth. Learning that God was not distant but always present, loving me unconditionally, was encouraging. In fact, I’m reminded of Mary Baker Eddy’s statement in Science and Health that “the everlasting I am is not bounded nor compressed within the narrow limits of physical humanity, nor can He be understood aright through mortal concepts. The precise form of God must be of small importance in comparison with the sublime question, What is infinite Mind or divine Love?” (p. 256).
The search for Truth—essentially for an accurate understanding of God—is inherent in all of God’s children. And it appears among individuals from many faiths and philosophies. I’ve learned, in my conversations in the community, that sometimes even when people claim that they’re not interested in the Divine, what they’re often opposed to is authoritarianism and dogmatic approaches to life, which are devoid of true spirituality.
It’s impossible to deny that humanity inevitably seeks its higher purpose through a desire for happiness, justice, and increased spirituality. And it’s natural for creation to be ultimately drawn toward its Creator. This is something to celebrate and defend in our prayers. And it’s a basis upon which to build mutual trust.
But is there something to be said for taking these questions seriously—maybe even protecting ourselves, especially children, from the larger debate? After all, what’s wrong with wanting to shield them from controversy? I think the solution lies in encouraging children and adults alike, not to be afraid of raising questions about the nature of reality and their own relationship to God. In our doing so, they’ll be able to clarify and strengthen the basis for their own beliefs. As a parent, I’ve always encouraged our daughter to question and probe into any and every subject. Sometimes the dialogue at the dinner table, or in the car on the way to her dance classes, wasn’t easy. But these conversations often helped me appreciate her own ability to thrive as an independent thinker—as a reflection of the divine Mind itself. In fact, Mary Baker Eddy dedicated Science and Health to “honest seekers for Truth” (p. xii).
Throughout history, many dangerous thoughts have actually stemmed from the idea that the world is comprised of rival communities of faiths and belief systems. How might the world change if we saw differing viewpoints not as threats but as springboards for further conversation and exploration?
As I’m confronted with news reports of skepticism and disbelief in a higher power, I’ve learned that I don’t need to become preoccupied with the controversy on the surface. Instead, I can choose to see what unites each of us. Adopting a view that’s not influenced by fears or assumptions, but based on our tried and true real-life experiences, will allow each of us to bring more healing and wholeness to our fractured world. From this solid basis, the wrestling and seeking that lead to a better understanding of Truth are welcome.
Oct 27, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
Persistent memories of injustice can make forgiving seem unimaginable, if not impossible. Yet at the same time, those memories can impede individual progress. For me the need has more often been in learning to forgive myself rather than others.
The commemorations of last April’s shootings at Virginia Tech reminded me of how I’ve had to confront past events and learn to forgive myself. The following comment by Alexandra Asseily, founder of “The Forgiveness Garden” in Beirut, Lebanon, caught my attention: “When the memory controls us, we are then puppets of the past.” The quote was included in a recent Christian Science Monitor article that discussed “The Power of Forgiveness,” a PBS documentary given in a special screening at Virginia Tech, where students and faculty continue to recover (“At Virginia Tech, a film asks, ‘Can we forgive?’, ” Amy Green, September 21, 2007).
Individuals who experience the kind of trauma those students experienced often struggle with guilt—not simply for having survived, but for actions they didn’t take. They often believe that in some way they were responsible for, or contributed to, endangering others.
Truly the inability to forgive oneself keeps us “puppets of the past,” as Asseily aptly stated. Holding on to past events can catch us unawares, as they unexpectedly rewind and continue to replay in our minds. That was certainly my experience. But going to God enabled me to move from self-condemnation to self-discovery. I hadn’t experienced grave danger, but my prayers revealed that God loved me unconditionally, and I was able to appreciate myself as His child and shed self-condemnation.
Feelings of deep dismay had been with me since my own college days, over my response—or what I thought to be a lack of response—to several situations. In the first, I’d had conversations with two friends who only days later had committed suicide. I anguished over what I might have said differently. Further, I rebuked myself for not having alerted anyone else about our talks.
Then, a professor tried to sell me a good exam grade for sexual favors. But I never reported him. Nor did I notify the police when I was stalked by another individual. Instead, I changed jobs and relocated.
For years I couldn’t forgive myself—convinced that my nonaction probably resulted in harm to others. But a fresh read of Jesus’ experience with the adulterous woman showed me how to forgive myself. I’d always thought of this particular story as a lesson in not condemning others. The woman had been caught in adultery, yet Jesus told those ready to stone her that whoever hadn’t sinned should be the one to throw the first stone.
However, it was the story’s conclusion that brought the lesson home to me. When Jesus saw that everyone had left, he asked the woman if anyone had accused her. But no one had, and Jesus said, “Neither do I” (John 8:1–11, Eugene Peterson, The Message).
Suddenly I saw that if Jesus didn’t condemn her, then she shouldn’t condemn herself. And I realized that this was true for me, too.
This prayer-inspired news felt like a proclamation, and gave me freedom from years of torment. I saw that I could give myself the same love that Jesus gave the woman—and that God naturally gives to each of us. I may not always get everything right, but as I remain humble and expectant, I can perceive God’s guidance, which is always at hand. My desire to love and do the right thing is a powerful prayer. I now see, as well, that I’m not responsible for the actions of others.
Progress is God’s law for all of His children. Forgiving ourselves and others enables us to put memories to rest and move forward. We may not be able to change the past, but we can learn to do better right now, which necessarily influences tomorrow. Prayer to forgive oneself, as well as others, is a step that individuals—schools, communities, and even nations—can take to leave mistakes and regrets behind. All that remains are the lessons learned and the opportunities waiting for each of us to improve the present. Such prayer broadens one’s point of view to seek solutions for the greater good, and at the same time supports the impetus for progress. Then all humanity can move a step forward.
Oct 27, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
For many, the holiday season inspires hope and reassures faith in miracles. But belief in miracles is not limited to a particular time of year. A recent 2007 Harris poll found that 82 percent of Americans believe in God and 79 percent believe in miracles, even though only 25 percent said they attend religious services once a week or more often. It seems that trust that the impossible is possible and faith in divine help are not confined to churchgoers.
Belief in miracles exists in all cultures and almost all religions. Of course, people in different faith traditions have substantially varied definitions of a “miracle,” and even within a specific religion, the term can have different meanings. But I love knowing that many people have an unbounded and hope-filled expectation for a future of unlimited possibilities. At least, that’s part of what believing in miracles means to me.
The word “miracle” is derived from the old Latin word miraculum, meaning “something wonderful.” And in the New Testament of the Bible, “marvel” is the simple meaning of the Greek word for miracle. So it’s no surprise that words such as “signs,” “wonders,” “marvels” and “miracles” are often used interchangeably. Indeed, in the biblical sense, miracles are signs and wonders — the extraordinary events that inspire awe and open the world of the divine.
Proponents of miracles generally agree that miracles actually restore the natural and normal order of things in accord with the divine. Some say it’s the habits of our skeptical human mind that prevent us from believing in the extraordinary and that cause us to view miracles as the mysterious, unusual and unlikely. In the same light, some don’t expect miracles from ordinary folks, especially from themselves.
Who’s one of the most renowned miracle workers? Many might say Jesus, although he wasn’t seeking such fame. Jesus lived a life of love — healing and helping others — and taught us we could and should do the same. He said, “He that believeth on me, the works that I do shall he do also” (John 14:12). He assured, ” … for with God all things are possible” (Mark 10:27). And he also encouraged, ” … love one another” (John 13:34) Perhaps the greatest miracle humanity could ever experience is everyone loving each other in the way Jesus practiced and advocated.
Mark Twain dubbed Anne Sullivan a miracle worker for her successful heroic efforts in the 1880s teaching Helen Keller — who could not see, hear or speak — the existence and purpose of language.
Maybe you’re thinking, “People like Jesus or even Annie Sullivan were extraordinary people accomplishing extraordinary things. Don’t look at me. I’m no miracle worker!” But what if I said you could be? What if anyone could be a miracle worker? What if workers of miracles are not a chosen few?
What if your smile, your embrace, your kind words and encouragement, your thoughtful and helpful actions, your prayers, may be just the healing touch that brightens someone’s day, lifts someone’s spirits or even dramatically changes someone’s life? I suspect that many times in our lives we have not realized the difference we make or could make in the life of another.
I still remember the teacher who saw my potential, the friend who was always there when I needed her, and the stranger who listened when I was alone or yet another stranger who stopped to help when I was in great need.
And I will always be grateful to my mother for her unconditional love and unending faith in my abilities, my brothers for making me feel like the most special and important person in the world, my husband for making me feel beautiful, loved and wanted, and my daughter for caring, listening and sharing her love, inspirations and honesty. My list continues with more family, friends and strangers who have at one time or another impacted my life in some miraculous, wonderful, transforming way.
So I say, don’t belittle the effect you have on those around you. It’s not some small miracle that our paths cross. I have no doubt that you will be someone’s miracle worker today or tomorrow or in the years to come. Maybe you’ll be mine!
