Decisions, decisions!

Sometimes we're unsure about the decisions we have to make. Sometimes we feel uncertain about the big decisions, but more often we fret over some of the innumerable small ones we have to make on a daily basis. If we're striving to live a spiritually grounded, Christian life, the important part is listening for inspiration along the way.

I experienced this--in a very small way--this morning. I was already out dropping my husband at the rapid station. After that, I knew I had to make one other stop to check for packages at my in-laws' house, and I also wanted to redeem the rewards from my Panera card--a coffee and a pastry--which were expiring today. The hitch was that it's trash day, and I hadn't set out the trash yet, so I had a decision to make. (Like I said, this was certainly not a major life moment or anything.)

From the time I began to think about how to proceed with these errands, I was trying to listen to see if I had any sort of feeling that I should just skip the trip to Panera. Since I didn't, I headed that way after a short stop at my in-laws'. And again, I listened carefully as I pulled into the parking lot. And what did I find? An empty parking spot directly in front of the door. As silly as it may sound, as soon as I realized that, no, that was not a reserved spot, and yes, I was allowed to park there, I just knew that I would have time to get my coffee and pastry and still get home in time to put the garbage out. So I wasn't impatient or worried while I waited in line. I drove the speed limit the whole way home. Once there, I worked quickly, but by no means frantically, to set out the garbage and recyclables. And guess what? The garbage truck came by probably within ten minutes of me setting everything out, just as I was ready to enjoy my treats.

Now, as delicious as I knew my hazelnut coffee and cheese Danish would be, believe it or not, if I'd had a feeling that I needed to head straight home from my in-laws' for trash duty, that's what I would've done. I've just had too many experiences--big and small--that have shown me that being obedient has its rewards. In fact, it's a key theme in the Bible.  (Think of Noah, Abraham, Joseph, Ruth . . . the list goes on.) And now that I'm thinking about it, I see that  practical, daily obedience has several parts. 

First, we have to be willing to let God be in charge. Not to start the day thinking that we're going to force our way through any number of tasks, but rather trust that God will show us, guide us, be with us the whole way, moment by moment--and help us accomplish whatever actually needs to be done.

Next, we have to be actively listening for any instructions God has for us, which I find tend to come in the form of intuitions--things you just seem to be suddenly aware of, seemingly out of nowhere, that would only result in good for anyone involved. 

Lastly, and most importantly, we have to act according to those intuitions to the best of our ability. You might think of it as acting up to your highest sense of what's right. If we make that choice--to do what seems the most right to us--every time we have to make a decision, it can make for some pretty peaceful days.

Just think of it: it's the difference between going to bed at night fretting over what you didn't get done or what you could've done better, or instead, even if things didn't go quite the way you'd imagined, feeling satisfied that you did your best. And when you look at it that way, the decision is simple.

I will cry unto God most high; unto God that performeth all things for me. --Psalm 57:2

[Divine] Love inspires, illumines, designates, and leads the way.  Right motives give pinions to thought, and strength and freedom to speech and action.  --Mary Baker Eddy, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, p. 454

An instANTaneous experience

In my recent thoughts about my neighbors in the insect world, I've been reminded of a pretty definitive experience I had a few years ago. Since this is so long overdue, I'll save the recent thoughts for later posts.

So, picture it! I've just bought a lovely townhome and am approaching the end of my quest to furnish it. I'm on the search for the ever-elusive "kitchen table." I have an eat-in kitchen, and although it's not where I intend to eat, it's this big empty space and I would like a practical way to fill it. A table and chairs seem the thing. But I don't want to spend a lot of money, and I want something with character. I am happy to find a wooden "porch table" and four chairs at a nearby antique dealer. The price is right, and I take them home. I set them all out on my back deck to initiate my plan to give them even more character: a good sanding and a coat of spray paint. 

And this is where the real adventure begins. 

As I'm sanding one of the chairs, I pause and look at the other pieces of furniture. Much to my dismay, I see a steady stream of ants filing in and out of the table top. This is when a barrage of not-so-helpful mental suggestions begin, uncannily, to file in and out of my thought. Fortunately, I am already in the habit of refuting these aggressive types of thoughts with what I know to be true about God and His kingdom.

The first to attack is self-condemnation. Posing as my own thought, it chides me for being so hasty to buy a table and chairs that had been setting outside on a lawn for an amount of time I naïvely didn't even think to ask about. It berates me for failing to check for evidence of insect activity or rot. And it questions, Did I even really need this table and chairs? Self-condemnation essentially asserts that I have created this problem and am stuck with the consequences. But this suggestion is stopped in its tracks once I recognize it as an impostor. When we're working with God, there's no such thing as "stuck."  "The things which are impossible with men are possible with God" (Luke 18:27).

So now that I'm no longer blaming myself, the suggestion is that the problem is real and thus in need of fixing. And in moves a virtual can-can line of potential material solutions: Smoke. Extreme cold. Upending the table. Shaking it. Poisons. Sprays. Lures. So many products on the market for pest removal! So many tantalizing promises of zapping the little boogers and ridding my pretty project of them . . .

And right as the can-can line finishes its number, in steals the doubt that any "solution" will actually work: those little ants are in that table. How could I ever be sure they were all out? Would I really want to bring the table into my house knowing they could be lurking?

And that's when the light really breaks through. These are all just distractions. They need to be, and can be silenced with the truth. So I head up to my office to work with this week's Christian Science Bible Lesson. I know that's where I'll find the ideas to neutralize this situation. I open up the Bible and the first thing I come to is this:

Am I a God at hand, saith the Lord,

and not a God afar off?

Can any hide himself in secret places

that I shall not see him? saith the Lord.

Do not I fill heaven and earth? 

saith the Lord.

 (Jeremiah 23:23-24)

Then two "thoughts of peace," as it were, come gently to me.

1) Hey! God can see everywhere! Even into a teeny tunnel in a table! Of course, He can only see the good that He made (see Genesis 1:31). So something bad can't be hiding out of His sight. In fact, He (and His goodness) are actually filling all space. And I don't have to do anything to make this true. 

2) That means I don't need to "get rid of ants." Just like every other case in Christian Science, I'm simply correcting thought. And me correcting thought is really me listening for the true ideas from God that replace the wrong thought--and this replacement is what restores harmony, brings healing. God is "at hand." Right here. Right now.  . . . So, I think I'm done here . . . ?

I tentatively head back down to the deck to resume the project. I figure I should not look at the place where the ants have been--because I know that I need to focus on thought, not matter, for my evidence of a resolution, what I would call a healing. I wouldn't want to discourage myself if I were to look and not yet see the evidence of the correction I felt in my thought. It might throw me off . . . But I can't seem to resist!--I LOOK--and what do I see?

No change from before. 

However, in a moment of self-surprise, I realize I am not discouraged. I have prayed. I have known the truth. The healing is imminent. I am going to stop looking at the table and just get on with my work . . . 

But I just know it's been healed!! So I look at the table again before no more than five minutes has passed--and what do I see?

One table.
ZERO ants.

Where there had been a steady stream up and down one of the table legs (down and UP, mind you), there are none. I look closer and see evidence on the wood that insects have invaded, but I see no insects.

I'm almost in disbelief, but I know better. This really just happened. Because that's how Christian Science works.

Looking back on this, I can see it was (yet another) Psalm 23 kind of experience.  I'm sure you'd agree . . .

The Lord is my shepherd; I shall not want.

He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters.

He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name's sake.

Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death [limitation], I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me.

Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies; thou annointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over.

Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the Lord for ever.

All finished on the deck, ready to bring them in

In their new home