THE PSALMIST KNEW SOMETHING ABOUT SPIRITUAL ZEAL. But that doesn't mean he was a religious zealot or ran headlong, scattering his fire with untempered zeal —the zeal that rushes about, full–tilt and unfocused with wild fervor. Rather, in psalms like this one, he expressed a deeply felt—but exuberant—joy: "Thou [God] hast turned for me my mourning into dancing: thou hast put off my sackcloth, and girded me with gladness; to the end that my glory may sing praise to thee, and not be silent" (Ps. 30:11–12). Here his voice rings with vitality and confidence, with a universal freshness that transcends the centuries.
Mary Baker Eddy also knew about zeal. In fact, in the Glossary to Science and Health, she explained that zeal has two meanings in the Scriptures—one spiritual, one mortal: First, the spiritual: "The reflected animation of Life, Truth, and Love." And the second, matter–based explanation: "Blind enthusiasm; mortal will" (p. 599).
Well, I know I'm not the only one who has run amok at one time or another with blind enthusiasm. Or tried to torque things my way with some of that mortal will. But I've found that neither of those strategies lasts. In the long run, neither one really gets me anywhere. But that first explanation—that's the zeal I know I've got in unlimited abundance. And everyone has those wonderful qualities of joy and vivacity and wonder, all of which come naturally because their source lies in Spirit. That's the real zeal that vitalizes and animates our moments, our hours, our days. The same zeal that moved the Psalmist some 3,000 years ago to sing in gratitude for his own existence and for his Creator—for Life, Truth, and Love.
