Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
What is truth? This is not a new question. Perhaps the question’s most memorable voice was Pontius Pilot when he posed it to a silent Jesus.
Probably most everyone would agree that much of early Christian literature was first collected and reported through oral traditions among early Christians. With few written documents. And written records found show that there were as many differing viewpoints among early Christians as there are today.
Consequently, most historians recognize some embellishments probably occurred over time. As well as information left out. And some authors’ accounts destroyed. In fact, some historians have suggested that we have lost 85 percent of Christian literature from the first two centuries. And that percentage only refers to the literature that we know about. So our knowledge from the roots of Christianity may always only be in part.
Do any of these facts impact our love and faith in the Bible and its validity? They don’t for me. That’s because I don’t believe the spiritual meaning of the Word is contingent on human details. For me, the spiritual sense can be felt in heart, regardless of details included or not.
It does disturb me to think that anyone believed they needed to determine what I can know and understand as truth. For example, when I think of the various ancient religious writings that have been surfacing in recent years, what bothers me is that someone long ago decided I couldn’t read these writings and decide for myself what I wanted to believe. Or that someone thought they needed to shape or interpret truth for me and the rest of humanity for all time.
Truth is what it is. Changeless. Eternal.
Lies may be told and believed as truth for centuries. This doesn’t change whatever is the truth.
New lies may be told today. These do not change whatever is the truth.
I do realize that opinions and interpretations of what is understood as truth will be as varied as the number of individuals voicing their opinions and interpretations. This was true centuries ago and I suspect, will likely be true in future times as well.
I think the quest to understand truth is an individual life journey. I can only answer what I myself understand of truth. I think the same is true for all who write about what they understand of truth. And even then, the challenge is in finding the words to express the spiritual meaning of that which is spiritual.
Christian author, Mary Baker Eddy, wrote about this challenge. She said English as well as all other languages are “inadequate to the expression of spiritual conceptions and propositions, because one is obliged to use material terms in dealing with spiritual ideas.”
So the search to understand truth continues. And in our search, we question, consider, ponder, explore the possibilities of truth and what it means in our lives. We want to know truth. We long for the most perfect and accurate truth there is in every aspect of our lives. Be it in science, manufacture, art, religion — or history.
Perhaps this is because of our innate spiritual nature. With a God of truth as our Creator, it would be natural for us to be drawn toward the nature of our source — perfect truth. For us to desire to understand who we are and our purpose for being.
Truth never changes. But clearly, our understanding of truth does. And it should. It’s called progress. Growth. And that’s life.
Perhaps one reason for controversial responses to newly discovered ancient writings are because some details challenge truths humanity has longed believed.
In my own search to understand truth, I am endeavoring to keep myself open-minded to truth’s infinite possibilities. I try to approach each possibility with reasonable consideration and exploration. Truth is what it is. Whether it is what I’ve always believed or something entirely different. I want to know the truth.
Of truth, Eddy quotes Agassiz, the celebrated naturalist and author, who said: “Every great scientific truth goes through three stages. First, people say it conflicts with the Bible. Next, they say it has been discovered before. Lastly, they say they have always believed it.”
So, I’ll keep on reading whatever my fellow truth-seekers write. We learn from each other. It’s all part of the journey to understand — what is truth?
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
“Tell me a story, Mommy,” my daughter demanded night after night. Her enthusiasm for stories continued to grow as she grew into an avid reader and frequent moviegoer. I suspect our thirst for a good story is never quenched throughout the ages.
Storytelling has long been a useful forum for teaching and learning. Maybe Christ Jesus believed this — he frequently taught spirituality through similitude and parables using themes, settings and characters his audience could most relate to. His lessons still capture our attention today and give us reason for reflection.
Perhaps we should not be so surprised that religious themes and imagery are appearing in popular culture’s medium for storytelling — from books to films to television to music to technology.
There is a growing awareness of the impact of storytelling. Many religion and philosophy professors argue that fictional books and movies can lead to a deeper faith and understanding of one’s spirituality.
This summer’s movies, The Da Vinci Code and X-Men: The Last Stand are only the beginning. Coming soon are Superman Returns, Click, and Lady in the Water. Flicks like these touch on spirituality through such themes as connection, sacrifice, redemption and reconciliation. Topics worthy of consideration, I would say.
My own spiritual journey took on more serious focus “a long time ago in a theater far, far away.”
It was a day I will never forget. It was one of those unsuspected, defining moments of my life. I saw movies most every weekend, but Star Wars was unlike any movie I had ever seen.
In 1977, I was a freshman in college. My interests were boys and having fun. That was pretty much it. At that point in time, an education or a career were not high priorities. Nor were things spiritual. I probably went to see Star Wars swept up by the anticipation hype of the day with my friends. All I know is I saw it not once, not twice, but dozens of times.
In Bill Moyer’s interview with the director, George Lucas, Lucas said he hoped the Force would “awaken a certain kind of spirituality in young people” — one that was more about a “belief in God than a belief in any particular religious system.” One that would simply make young people think. Well, his hope proved true for me.
I can honestly say that in 1977, it was the first Star Wars episode that prompted me to think more spiritually and to broaden my perceptions to consider how one action begets another. The “Force” reminded me of the Higher Power that unifies all creation. That all of creation has a purpose — including me! Yes, for me the Star Wars sagas were much more than mere tales of science fiction.
I found great hope in Anakin Skywalker’s character — hope that promises no one is beyond help, that it’s never too late to change. The same kind of hope exemplified in the parable of the prodigal son told by Christ Jesus.
I think perhaps Anakin’s greatest flaw was fear. He became intoxicated by fear. Thus he was led to believe and do that which he should not. As he succumbed to his fear, Anakin’s doom was sealed. This reminded me of a statement made by Mary Baker Eddy, “A man’s fear, unconquered, conquers him, in whatever direction.”
I was relieved and heartened by knowing he would be redeemed. His “fall” would not be the final chapter of his life.
From watching the Star Wars tales, I’ve concluded that if fear is the answer to the question — what makes men do evil? — perhaps love is the answer to the question — what redeems us from evil? Love was certainly central to Anakin’s redemption.
I’ve often thought about a simple, yet compelling, statement of Eddy’s — “The time for thinkers has come.” A statement that I believe is an imperative call for people in all ages. Why? Because all too often it’s possible to just accept an opinion, viewpoint or prognosis without question. Because we can sometimes get duped into a decision that is not the best for us.
Those six words — “The time for thinkers has come” — were engraved in my heart the first time I read them. I really like the idea of being an independent thinker. And I love anything that gives me reason to think.
There have been many stories told in books as well as on television and on the silver screen that have made me think and that have taught me helpful lessons through their imaginative tales of life and adventure.
Perhaps any storytelling forum that results in people pondering, even questioning and debating, religious beliefs and issues is a good thing.
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. All rights reserved.
It’s easy to tell others not to give up hope. But have you ever asked yourself if you believe what you say?
In the past year, I’ve walked with many a friend and family member facing difficult challenges — be it illness, accident, divorce, or death of a loved one. In my desire to help, I’ve tried to offer words of hope and encouragement.
But because I struggled with despair in my own heart over their plight, I recently asked myself if I really had the hope for them that I voiced.
I’ve begun a search to understand more about hope because I want the hopeful words I speak to be words I truly believe.
In her writings, Mary Baker Eddy refers to a famous Italian proverb translated, “While there’s life there’s hope.” And I’ve wondered if the reverse is true — while there’s hope there’s life. A university experiment suggests this is so.
Two groups of mice were observed in the experiment. The first set was restricted so that the mice felt it was hopeless to try to escape. And the second group was arranged in a way to give them some hope of escaping. After a time, both groups were dropped into tubs of water. The first set sank. And the second group immediately swam to safety.
This experiment suggests that hopelessness leads to death while hope results in life. I’ve read other medical school studies that have concluded an attitude of hope contributes significantly to the healing process.
But while I could see the powerful effects of hope and hopelessness on the mice in this experiment, I didn’t want to agree that our hope is contingent on our circumstances and conditions. If I agreed, this would suggest that we could become overwhelmed to the point of drowning in our despair.
I turned to the Bible for more insight. My attention was captured by an account about a woman and the hope that saved her life.
She had struggled with her illness for twelve years and had spent all her money on physicians, seeking healing. But none of them were able to help her. No doubt she had heard about the healing works and teachings of Christ Jesus. And apparently her hope was so great she believed if she could simply touch his clothes, she could be healed. She was healed, but Jesus explained to her that it was her faith that had made her whole.
I thought about this dear woman’s long desire for better health. And I was inspired by her hope as she continued to believe she could be healed, in spite of years of futile searching.
Such examples strengthen my hope and fortify my own determination to never give up on the possibility for a life of health, productivity and potential. They make me hope and believe that healing remains possible for every one and in every case.
For me, this Biblical healing account, while teaching us not to give up but to remain firm in hope, also teaches us to remain open-minded about the method in which healing can come. It teaches us not to limit options and helplessly accept any diagnosis or fear as the final word on life.
So how do I maintain the same hope as this woman who went to Jesus for healing?
Mary Baker Eddy’s explanation of “belief” and “to believe” is helping me answer this question. She writes, “The Hebrew verb to believe means also to be firm or to be constant.” And she continues, “The Hebrew and Greek words often translated belief differ somewhat in meaning from that conveyed by the English verb believe.” The Hebrew and Greek meanings of belief “have more the significance of faith, understanding, trust, constancy, firmness.”
I’m getting a glimmer of what hope really means. Hope that is not merely wishful thinking or looking at life through rose-colored glasses. But hope that is a confident expectation of good and a firm trust based on the understanding of an omnipresent and omnipotent, entirely good God.
Because God is ever-present giving us all we need in every moment, our hope is ever present and a power in the face of whatever obstacle we may encounter. Because God is all-powerful and a loving divine Parent always caring for His children, our hope is indestructible and indelible and it cannot be smothered out as the mice experiment suggested.
With God, divine Love, at our side, we are embraced by hope that helps us see beyond a problem to possibilities. With God, eternal Life, as our guide, we are sustained by hope that keeps us moving forward expecting better days. With God, supreme Mind, directing us, we are renewed by hope that gives us confidence our goals and dreams are obtainable. And with God, infinite Truth, forever instructing us, our understanding is filled with the hope that healing is possible.
The Gospel of Mark says, “…for with God all things are possible.”
Yes, I choose to base my hope on that promise. Those are hopeful words I can believe!
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
Many people who know my daughter have asked me how she is handling life as a military spouse. My daughter has long been a planner and has not always responded well to an idea that required her to change her plans suddenly.
Three years ago she married a young man six days before he began his Air Force career. And since that time, her life has been full of many changes. Some expected. And some not.
This past fall was our son-in-law’s first deployment overseas at which time our daughter came home to stay with us. It was difficult not to have him home during the holidays, but we waited till he came back in late January to celebrate Christmas. And it was well worth the wait!
I admit at first it was hard to consider changing our traditional time of celebrating the season, but we wanted to save most of our festivities for our son-in-law’s return.
I think for many people, change is sometimes feared — even something to be resisted. Perhaps some see change as an indication they have no control over their lives, so they do everything they can to avoid change and feel like its victim when they face it.
Yet anyone who reads much of Mary Baker Eddy’s writings probably gets a view of change as normal and sometimes necessary. She frequently uses such phrases as “change your course” . . . “a change demanded” . . . “change of heart” . . . “change the human concept of life . . .” And following change, comes the promise of growth, healing and progress. She makes change sound desirable and positive, and not a bad thing after all.
Recently, I asked my daughter how she has adjusted to military life — with its sometimes unexpected changes.
She said, “That was the hardest element for me, not being able to plan out the next few years of our lives. I think the uncertainty we face has caused me to become a more fluid person. I am better able to deal with change and have become more spontaneous.”
As her mom, it has been fun to witness this change in my daughter. She no longer sees change as some burdensome challenge she must face at times. I see in her a young woman who has embraced change as natural as life itself. And so she has grown into a poised officer’s wife while she also continues her own career goals.
Not long after our son-in-law returned to the states, we learned he could deploy again much sooner than initially planned. I asked them how they felt about this possible change to their schedule.
They said, “Deployments are hard and there is never a good time for your loved one to leave. We take it day by day, and just enjoy every moment we have together. In many ways we’re a stronger couple for it because we don’t waste time planning for things in the future. If we want to do something, no day is better than the present.”
They said that Eddy’s ideas on improving moments and making the most of the present have been powerful, healing ideas as they live their ever-changing life together.
I decided I needed to start examining my own heart to check for ways I may have become resistant to change. And the results have been rather surprising.
I’ve uncovered viewpoints that were stagnant and stubborn. I discovered some traditions and routines which were unreasonably rigid avoiding any inclination of change. I could see that I had become set in some old ways which were not conducive to growth. I wanted this to change — so, I’m working on being more spontaneous myself.
Turning to prayer for guidance and fresh inspiration is helping me be more open to the idea of infinite possibilities. I’m becoming more willing to explore and consider new ideas and opportunities. I’m calmer in situations that arise unexpectedly. And I’m happier.
Since change all too often leads to progress, I’ve concluded maybe all that’s needed is simply a change in how I view change.
Oct 24, 2007 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2007. All rights reserved.
I’ve never really been a basketball fan, but since the Dallas Mavericks were in the championship series, my Texas pride made me watch. With each agonizing game (specifically the last four), I remembered why I’m not a basketball fan — the game seems filled with unfair foul calls. I know I sound like a sore loser — and I am. My Texas pride may be acting up again!
Still, even though I screamed out my frustrations over what I considered unfair calls, I also yelled for the boys to step up their game. I encouraged them to do a better job at making their shots, rebounding and so forth. Even if some foul calls were bogus, I still believed they had the ability to win the games.
Now that the series is over, I’m reflecting on how the game of basketball is sometimes like our lives. Or at least like my life.
Many times I’ve felt life was unfair — like nothing was going my way. And in those times anger, disappointment and depression victimized me: Poor me. “It wasn’t my fault.” “I didn’t have a choice.” “There was nothing I could do about the cards I was dealt but to accept them and suffer through it.”
Fortunately, my mama taught me a lesson long ago that has helped me learn how to pull myself up from what feels like life’s unfair dealings.
The lesson, or storm of events, began one September evening when I was ten years old. It wasn’t a hurricane or a tornado. But it was equally devastating and for me, and just as sudden.
I was taking my bath, getting ready for bed, when my mama unexpectedly came through the door. She promptly whisked me out of the tub to make a quick escape from her bitter and angry ex-husband — my dad. He hadn’t been able to accept the divorce. My mama had been warned by a relative that he was on his way to our place with violent intentions.
There was no time to pack, so we left with what little could be grabbed in a flash. I was never to see my home or my dad again.
For the months that followed, we were homeless with little money.
Many have asked my mama what enabled her to survive those times. I suppose some might call it a “can-do” spirit. Perhaps a positive attitude. Maybe a cheerful outlook. Or a “never-give-up” perspective. My mama could never be brought down — for long, anyway.
I can only explain that it had something to do with her faith — her faith in a new concept of God that she was learning. A God that is good and omnipotent. A loving God who will steer His children safely amid any storm. A God who has given His children the ability to prove evil powerless. A God who sent His son, Christ Jesus, to teach us how.
Her faith-filled outlook gave us hope. And her faith-filled perspective brought us the vision to see good and to find new opportunities — even peace of mind, and yes, joy. Her faith-inspired point of view led us to a new home in a new city, a career for her and a new life for both of us.
My memory of those childhood days is not of lack, uncertainty or fear. I never even thought of myself as homeless or poor.
I suppose I could look at my childhood experience with regret. But those days for me were a great gift — a lesson in how to beat the odds. How to overcome the insurmountable. How to begin anew when all is lost. How to find something good in every moment.
I learned that a different outlook can change the course of our lives. We have to take responsibility for our thoughts and actions every moment. Mary Baker Eddy wisely advised, “Your decisions will master you, whichever direction they take.” And she encouraged again and again to, “Stand porter at the door of thought.”
We can do this because God gives us the ability and the strength to govern our lives in harmony and peace.
After I married, my greatest battle with what I considered the unfairness of life began when our daughter was two years old. We were ready to continue growing our family. But more children didn’t arrive. Year after year, I struggled with disappointment and depression, as well as anger and frustration. My mantra was, “Why me, Lord?”
I can’t say that I overcame my struggle as quickly as I wish I had. But as I learned in my childhood, it would require a new outlook to move my life forward. As it turns out, a grateful heart was imperative. My love and desire for children didn’t end. And children did come into my life — just in a different way than I had expected. I became a kindergarten teacher. And not long after that, my teenage niece came to live with us.
I’ve concluded God does answer our prayers — just not always in the way we outline. When I’m certain of God’s ever-presence, I’m able to respond to whatever comes my way, calmly and confidently assured of God’s directing.
And God is always directing. I just can’t hear Him very well while whining about life being unfair. But when I stop whining, I see the solutions and new opportunities that God is providing that enable me to overcome and succeed in spite of what might seem like the “unfair fouls” of life.
