Editorials

We were standing in front of the leopards' habitat when I happened to overhear one of the zookeepers talking with a visitor. He mentioned how much he loved the animals he helped to care for.

It isn't easy being a steward of God. That's what I felt, with every step I took up the steep staircase chiseled into the ancient rock that is Areopagus—the hill on top of a hill in Athens, named after the Greek war god Ares, or Mars.

Unjustly accused. Beaten in public.

Who of us hasn't wondered what God knows about our lives? There are moments, most likely, when we want Him to know everything. We think that if He knew we were doing all that we could to help someone, or that we were feeling desperately in need of help ourselves, this knowledge would cause Him to give us His blessing.

Years ago I heard a story, a parable of sorts, and the lesson has stayed with me. The story goes something like this: In the early years of European contact with the New World, a ship set sail on a trading expedition across the Atlantic.

The author shares how the demonstration of man's life in God is the demonstration of man's immortal, spiritual identity and individuality.

In recent years scientific research has suggested that specific genetic patterns are associated with specific behavioral patterns. In other words, that an individual's behavior is largely determined, or at least mightily influenced, by codes written into his or her genes.

Many today believe that death is a friend that will lead to a much better life. Yet the overcoming of death is basic to the teachings of Christianity, and there would surely be no reason to destroy a friend.

People usually think of themselves as prepared for change—until it happens. An employment opportunity opens up in another part of the country, and at first it seems like a wonderful new beginning.

That phrase, "the glory of human life," is in a sentence that has held my interest ever since I first read it years ago. The sentence is in a pamphlet called No and Yes by Mary Baker Eddy.