Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
With all the hype, how could I not see the film, The Passion of the Christ, ― although I was not the first in line?
First, I watched Mel Gibson interviewed on TV explaining his motives and hopes for the movie. There were countless published dialogues with theologians and religious leaders to read as well as editorials by religion editors and guest columnists. Not to mention participation in the on-line chats and discussion boards. And yes, I re-read the Gospel accounts. Yet perhaps more intriguing is a chapter titled, “Atonement and Eucharist” found in the book, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, by Mary Baker Eddy.
Long before the movie, I was caught up in the stir of a pre-Easter examination of what the sacrifice and triumph of Jesus meant to humanity, then and now.
I can tell you I was initially surprised by my reaction to the movie. As one who tends to get squeamish confronted with graphic violence and suffering on-screen, my usual practice would be to avoid that type of show. But after reading a comment on the website www.spirituality.com, “…can I not watch 126 minutes with him,” I decided to go. In fact, my eyes rarely left the screen.
During the movie I felt strength, love, awe, humility, and spiritually empowered. And a deepened desire to be obedient to Jesus’ teachings and to follow his example.
Expectation has a direct effect on results in any situation, including watching a movie. My view of Jesus as Master, Way-shower, Teacher, and Exemplar entered the theater with me. My expectations for watching The Passion of the Christ were from the perspective of a student. Open and eager for learning, I anticipated lessons, and expected to be taught and was.
For me, “The Passion” was a classroom as is the entire life and ministry of Jesus. But class didn’t end with the crucifixion. It continues with lessons learned from the resurrection and 40 days later with the ascension. Of course, Mel’s movie didn’t tell the whole story of Jesus, but for me there was never a moment that Jesus appeared to be a helpless victim. To the contrary, there was never a moment when Jesus wasn’t continuing to teach and heal. Could his most profound lesson be his teachings on love? If so, what kind of love?
A love that can forgive those who falsely accused and tortured him, even as he hung on the cross.
How many times have I felt defeated or thought about revenge when friend or foe did something to deliberately hurt me?
A love that could express compassion toward his grieving mother while he himself was suffering.
How many times have I been too self-absorbed to express compassion to another in need?
A love that could offer comfort and heal others, not only while suffering himself, but also in the midst of his enemies.
How many times has a sense of inadequacy stopped me from sharing a hopeful message or fear kept me from saying what I know is true, because criticism or laughter might follow?
Watching “The Passion” has increased the fervency in my heart and soul for Jesus’ commandments: Love one another. Love thy neighbor. Love thy enemy. Bless them that curse you. Do good to them that hate you. Pray for them, which despitefully use you and persecute you. All things whatsoever ye would that men should do to you, do ye even so to them. And what about the commandment regarding his works when he said, He that believes on me, the works that I do shall he do also. Consider his healing works and the possibilities of this promise!
In Science and Health, Eddy writes, “To keep the commandments of our Master and follow his example, is our proper debt to him and the only worthy evidence of our gratitude for all that he has done.” Gratitude fills my heart to have been reminded of the sacrifice and triumph of Jesus, and reminds me to commemorate his lessons to humanity by obeying his words, If ye love me, keep my commandments.
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. © 2006. All rights reserved.
I fell in love with John while standing in line for an amusement park ride. City girl meets country boy. Seven months later, we married. I had found my Mr. Right.
But soon I found out he thought his first name was “Always.”
He always knew best—where we should live, what we could spend money on, what we would do for fun. My opinion didn’t seem important. Compromise? Not an option.
We immediately moved into the old farmhouse John’s parents owned on their Texas ranch—and right next door to my in-law’s brand-new house. As resentment built in my marriage, my hatred of our home grew.
We rarely had an amicable discussion about how to spend our finances. With John as the primary breadwinner, I often felt I didn’t have a say in how we spent our money.
I’d end up in tears of frustration.
I thought he showed little appreciation for the work I did in the home. He dropped his dirty clothes on the floor by the hamper. He left his coats and shoes wherever he took them off. I’d often end up in tears of frustration as I cleaned up after him time and time again.
I also became increasingly frustrated with living on a ranch, far from the city activities I liked. Going dancing or out to the movies became extra-special treats. And when I suggested these outings, John showed little interest.
I often resented his absence.
Years passed with me spending a lot of long days caring for our young daughter while John worked equally long hours at his construction job, an hour’s drive from home. I appreciated his hard work, but I often resented his absence.
Eventually, I realized I didn’t like the person I had become—the critical, angry, quick-to-judge person. Maybe my husband had room for improvement, but was I really so perfect?
I did love my husband. We spent many happy family moments together. John and our daughter, Jennifer, developed a close relationship. He always took time to talk to her—especially during the long drives to her weekly dance classes. And he taught her to appreciate the outdoors and to fish—so well that Jennifer can outfish him now. When she was older, she used to cook our supper while John and I took care of the ranch chores.
I began to see how disconnected I’d become from my spiritual identity I learned about during years attending Christian Science Sunday school. I had learned about a loving, wise, forgiving God—and as a child of God, I reflect those attributes.
I wanted to be a new “me.”
I had also learned that if I wasn’t happy with the way I viewed myself, I could pray to see myself as God’s reflection and start afresh without guilt or self-condemnation.
I wanted to be a new “me” and toss out the “grouchy me.” I wanted to love. To feel love. To think lovingly. To be loving. Could I do this? Could I love in spite of my circumstances or surroundings? Could I love in spite of how I was treated? Could I love first?
A statement Mary Baker Eddy wrote in the chapter on “Prayer” in her book Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures gave me renewed hope: “Desire is prayer; and no loss can occur from trusting God with our desires that they may be moulded and exalted before they take form in words and in deeds.”
Since I have always believed in the power of prayer to transform and heal, I found great comfort in the idea that prayer based on good desires can lead to healing results. I took my desire to be a more loving “me” to God in prayer.
I turned to the Bible to see what Jesus taught.
I started by looking for an example of a truly loving person—someone I could emulate. Jesus came to mind first. So I turned to the Bible to see what he taught about love and also to examine his relationships with others. I found lessons of forgiveness and unconditional love for both friend and foe. In awe, I wondered if I could truly love this way.
Then I came across Paul’s definition of love in his letters to the Corinthians. Every line defined love in a different way. Patient. Kind. Not proud. Not self-seeking. Not easily angered. Keeps no record of wrongs. Always protects. Trusts. Hopes. Perseveres. (See full reference below.)
Well, I didn’t change overnight, but I took these ideas to heart and worked through several years of progress, prayer and tender lessons. Eventually, though, it hit me. Truly, God is Love. The source of love. And my husband and I are children of Love. We both are unique and individual expressions of this Love.
Love is a choice.
But even more, love is a choice. Jesus chose to love. And I too could choose to love. Besides, as a child of Love, how could I not be loving, act lovingly, think lovingly?
With love as my center, it became very natural to choose patience instead of frustration. Empathy instead of criticism. Joy instead of sadness. Peace of mind instead of anger. Trust instead of doubt. Forgiveness instead of condemnation.
Tears and resentment disappeared along the way. Looking back on these years, my husband commented to a friend, “I realize it was tough for Annette in the beginning—living near my parents and in the country. There was some friction between us, but Annette worked through it with prayer. She became more tolerant, well-adjusted, less judgmental—and I hope I did, too.”
I enjoy the time I spend with my husband.
As I began to realize and appreciate John’s goodness—and the goodness of our home—my perceptions changed. Our communications grew into a sweet interchange of openness and respect.
Today we still live in the same house on the ranch, but I love it now. And I enjoy the time I spend with my husband, regardless of what we’re doing.
In fact, now I find my reactions to everyone around me come from my desire to love more and to think lovingly. I want to love. I choose to love.
John and I will be celebrating our 24th anniversary in March. I can honestly say we share a mutual consideration, thoughtfulness and tenderness for each other’s needs and feelings. I have an equal say in how we spend our money and our time—and now we go to movies or out to dinner weekly. John even joins me for the annual Nutcracker ballet.
So what about my Mr. Right? I’ve found him.
Gratitude and forgiveness
Oct 13, 2006 |
by Annette Bridges. ©2006. All rights reserved.
The summer following my junior year in college, I was feeling pretty devastated and dismayed. Here’s why: Although I really wanted a college education, I also believed I would find a husband while I was in school. I had just broken up with my boyfriend, however, and was no longer hopeful that my husband was on campus, waiting for me to show up.
I just wanted to be loved. I wanted to matter to someone, to be special. Fear of never finding lasting love imprisoned my thoughts, crippling right reasoning and paralyzing my judgment.
On the July 4th weekend, I headed to the beach with a friend, where we hoped to meet some cute guys. One thing led to another, and I was seduced by my fears into a weekend of immoral behavior. I didn’t even recognize myself that weekend. It was like I was watching someone else.
Recently I came across this statement by Mary Baker Eddy: “A man’s fear, unconquered, conquers him, in whatever direction.” (Message to the Mother Church for 1901, p. 13) When I think of that summer, more than 25 years ago, I can see that those words were at the root of what happened.
I was humbled like the prodigal son.
I struggled and agonized with guilt and remorse for at least a couple of weeks following that weekend. Later in the month, the Bible Lesson in the Christian Science Quarterly was on the subject of Love and it included Jesus’ parable of the prodigal son, which Luke recorded in his Gospel. This parable really spoke to me in a healing way about my situation.
The story describes a young man who obtained his inheritance from his father and then wasted it in “riotous living.” When he became destitute, he came to his senses and decided to return to his father and beg for forgiveness. He was even willing to be a servant in the household instead of a son.
The Bible account goes on, “When he [the son] was yet a great way off, his father saw him, and had compassion, and ran, and fell on his neck, and kissed him.”
I felt like I was “a great way off,” very far removed from anything divine. I felt unworthy to be a daughter in the household—and by this time I had realized I wasn’t looking for love in the right place. What I was finding was not really love at all. There was no joy, no satisfaction, no contentment.
I felt God’s mercy and love.
This was a very distressing time because I felt so ashamed of what I’d done, and because of my shame, I felt I could only confide in God. My humble cry for God’s mercy was immediately heard by a loving Father-Mother God. One night, as I was studying the Bible Lesson, I recalled the words Jesus heard when John was baptizing him. The message that came to me from God was a paraphrase from Matthew’s account of that event: “This is my beloved daughter, in whom I am well-pleased.” It was one of those “on your knees” kinds of experiences, and this message redeemed my weary and ashamed heart. I felt embraced by divine Love.
God was seeing only good in His daughter—in me. I felt loved. I felt complete. Fear no longer had power to misguide and confuse me. I felt God was healing, forgiving and comforting me.
Much of this help came through inspired ideas in the Bible. For example, these words from the book of Isaiah strengthened me: “Fear not; for thou shalt not be ashamed: neither be thou confounded; for thou shalt not be put to shame: for thou shalt forget the shame of thy youth…For thy Maker is thine husband; the Lord of hosts in his name; and thy Redeemer…”
I felt so loved by God and knew God would always be there for me, always ready to listen and help and take care of me. That was enough.
I returned to college my senior year with a new goal. I still did want to marry someday. My heart was filled with patient hope and expectancy. But I no longer felt having a boyfriend or being married were the only means of being complete and happy.
Love comes to all of God’s children.
I understood better that God is Love, and love comes from God to all of His dear children. That love is expressed in multiple ways—all of which bring satisfaction and joy.
I was so grateful for being rescued by divine Love from my empty search that my new goal was to express love to everyone around me. To be a good friend. To help others.
My first three years of college hadn’t left much room for making friends with other girls in my dorm, as my attention was focused on having boyfriends. But as a senior, I wanted to be a good friend and big sister to my dorm mates, and be supportive and helpful in any way I could. I also devoted time and effort in various community services.
I still dated boys. But my motive was to be a friend and have fun. No longer was I examining every boy I met to see if he could be my Mr. Right.
The summer following my senior year, I did meet the man I’ve been happily married to for almost 25 years. But I knew through this experience that marriage didn’t have to be the conclusion for my happy tale. Whether married or single, God is always taking care of us and providing the love we need.
God, the source of constant love.
