It's Monday morning. As I sit down at my desk, I notice that the office could really use a good cleaning. And tonight, I think, I definitely have to go grocery shopping. Seven a.m. and my day is already filling up with things to do, with issues that need attention or resolution. I'm starting to feel as though my universe revolves around ... me.
To top it off, I've got this intense pain in my lower teeth and jaw. The pain is like a magnet, pulling my attention onto my problems and how I'm feeling. I'd noticed the pain a little bit in recent months. But the last few weeks it's been getting pretty bad. And one of my front teeth is starting to look discolored. I realize I need to pray about the situation some more.
I realize I can do more for myself by learning more about God's nature than by fixating on a condition He knows nothing about.
Years ago, I was healed, through prayer, of trouble with a sensitive tooth. So when the pain in my mouth began this time, prayer-based treatment seemed the logical route. I'm learning that I can expect complete and permanent healing by relying on God as my only Physician. But though I've prayed with regularity and persistence about this issue, the pain continues. The last few days it feels like all I've been able to think about are these teeth and how I want them to be healed.
I keep praying, though, and something occurs to me. Perhaps what I need to change isn't my teeth but my life focus. Maybe the teeth are just a distraction. I'm not saying God is asking me to ignore the situation. But what I'm hearing from Him is that I'll do more for myself by learning more about His nature—and putting that understanding into practice by helping others—than by fixation on a condition that God knows nothing about.
This isn't a new concept. In Second Corinthians, for example, I found the counsel that one should be "willing rather to be absent from the body, and to be present with the Lord." II Cor. 5:8. This humble desire to know God better is really what lifts you out of your problems because, through it, you start to see existence the way He does—as perfect and complete, not subject to disease or pain.
And so I think: To a larger degree than I have before, maybe I could focus less on myself and more on what God is doing. Perhaps I could give more thought to His universal activity. To His all-embracing love. The question it all comes down to is this: Could I do more praying for my family, friends, and neighbors? For the whole world? Yes, I think, I can. That sounds great, actually. Certainly better than worrying constantly about these teeth.
This isn't such a new take on life, I realize. I'm thinking of St. Paul now. So many of his letters in the Bible addressed the value of focusing on and helping others. He said at one point, "I have shewed you all things, how that so labouring ye ought to support the weak, and to remember the words of the Lord Jesus, how he said, It is more blessed to give than to receive." Acts 20:35. There's something awesome about opening yourself up to be an agent for good, for Love. The Bible suggests that doing so brings to light who you really are as the child of God—taking you closer to your nature as His image, and thus closer to lasting joy and well-being.
Further shifting or expanding my focus will take some effort. But I like this concept of prayer—not praying about a problem, but praying to open myself up to a whole world that needs my thoughts and prayers. Praying to see what God is doing not just for me, but for everyone. Wow! This big-picture prayer is teaching me the universal power of good. It's really showing me that Love is an unstoppable, irresistible force.
Seems to me that learning to love is the prayer we all need for better lives and better health, because this prayer draws us closer to God.
I remember something that Mary Baker Eddy wrote: "True prayer is not asking God for love; it is learning to love, and to include all mankind in one affection." No and Yes, p. 39. This is the prayer that I want. This is the prayer that I need. Seems to me that it's the prayer we all need for better lives and better health because it's the prayer that draws us closer to God. What I'm finding is that keeping my thought on Love—and on living love—is really how healing happens. After all, it's only in this way that I can tune in to what's real—that everyone is safe and whole as the likeness of Love.
It's a year and half later, now, and my story continues. I still regularly generate my to-do lists. But I think I'm seeing progress in keeping that expansive, outward focus. And my teeth feel great. The pain persisted for a few months, but it didn't keep me from looking outward. Rather, it encouraged me to. It impelled me to listen to God instead of to pain, and, as a result, to find myself able and more ready to help others. The blessings of doing so touched me, too. Within a few months, I was completely healed.
Today, my teeth look good. But perhaps more to the point, so does my broader view of the world.
