In her poem “Mother’s Evening Prayer” Mary Baker Eddy reassures us of God’s omniscience, omnipresence, and omnipotence when she writes, “His arm encircles me, and mine, and all” (Poems, p. 4). Set to music, it is one of the most comforting hymns in the Christian Science Hymnal.
This tender statement is an affirmation of the protection, affection, and watchfulness with which our loving Father-Mother God cares for His creation—for each one of us as an individual spiritual idea of God. It affirms the complete care of every aspect of our experience, and of the universe that includes all of God’s spiritual ideas. The truth in this line of the hymn embraces our entire experience and defines the total control that God has in every circumstance.
To look more deeply into the power of that poetic statement, we need to learn more about the true nature of our relationship to God. The Bible and the writings of Mrs. Eddy provide guidance as to how to understand and apply our knowledge of the protection the passage describes—God’s constant, all-encompassing care.
Me
The first element of divine protection involves understanding the idea of “me.” Our first reaction in considering the identity we call “me” is conditioned by our so-called human experience. It is to think of “me” in physical or material terms. In Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mrs. Eddy describes it this way: “The material body, which you call me, is mortal mind, and this mind is material in sensation, even as the body, which has originated from this material sense and been developed according to it, is material” (p. 416). So how does God, who is Spirit, protect the mortal “me”?
The answer is that there is no mortal me; the only real Me is God, infinite Soul, whom we each reflect as His spiritual image and likeness. We need only to understand this clearly and deeply to demonstrate it in our lives. Anyone who has learned the basic requirement of the First Commandment knows this. Adherence to that commandment protects us through our relationship to the divine Me.
Science and Health explains it this way: “Question. — What are the demands of the Science of Soul?
“Answer. — The first demand of this Science is, ‘Thou shalt have no other gods before me.’ This me is Spirit. Therefore the command means this: Thou shalt have no intelligence, no life, no substance, no truth, no love, but that which is spiritual” (p. 467).
As we affirm this relationship, we can not only see how the divine Me is the origin and basis of our real, spiritual identity or “me,” but how this Me can only love, embrace, and encircle its own creation and idea. In Christian Science we discover that consistently knowing this fundamental truth protects, guides, and heals us.
Mine
A scene in a popular animated movie depicts a leading character, a fish, entering a harbor. Hundreds of seagulls are perched everywhere, claiming their right to whatever food is available. They call out, “Mine. Mine. Mine. Mine.”
“Mine” conveys possession or ownership, but it also refers to that which we love and want to protect—family, friends, community. In material terms, this can be whatever is valued by an individual.
In the hymn “Mother’s Evening Prayer,” mine may refer to the people we love and the things we hold dear. Trying to hold on to or protect material things or other people (“mine”) on our own frequently ends in failure. But just as there is a higher sense of “me,” there is an analogous spiritual “mine.”
We have the promise of divine protection and direction as we acknowledge God as our source.
In the Bible, Jacob learned this (see Genesis, chapters 25–33). He coerced his elder brother Esau into selling him his birthright; then, hearing that Esau planned to kill him, he fled to a relative a great distance away and there, through many years of faithful service, amassed a fortune—the mortal “mine.”
After some time, God told Jacob to return to his own family’s land. While journeying there, he learned that Esau was coming to meet him with four hundred men. That night, in great fear, Jacob asked God for help, and there ensued a mighty mental struggle, during which Jacob eventually saw that he needed to give up the human sense of who he was and what was his—the mortal sense of identity and substance—for a spiritual sense of Life and Love, God. He persisted in the struggle until his name was changed to Israel. He had “seen God face to face,” and it redeemed him. Now, Jacob’s only “mine” was that which he had as God’s reflection.
Jacob sent a huge gift to his brother, and Esau met him with love, insisting that he, too, had abundant gifts, and the two were reconciled. Once Jacob saw that “mine” was what God was and gave, his life and all that he had were wrapped in God’s care.
We also have the promise of divine protection and direction as we acknowledge God as our source. We reflect His abundance. Nothing can harm our demonstration of God’s goodness. Christ Jesus referred to this when he said, “I am come that they might have life, and that they might have it more abundantly” (John 10:10).
All
So often we think of all as the material universe after the Big Bang, the extent of life on our planet Earth, and even the totality of our life histories. But the chaos of the cosmos and of the human experience can make this existence fraught with doubt, fear, and uncertainty. Like the mortal “me and mine,” mortal life, employment, civil society, national well-being, global and local environment, are all transient and finite. But just as there is a truth—a spiritual concept—to be found for “me and mine,” there is a higher sense of allness that is God and His expression.
Mrs. Eddy speaks of “the entireness of God, good” (Science and Health, p. 293)—of God as All-in-all, everything, wholeness, all-harmonious. And the application of this to our lives shows that His encircling arms encompass this allness—no one could ever be or is now outside of this allness.
We can demonstrate this in our lives. Many years ago I worked at a government research center. Two small groups shared a coordinator and a single building. My group’s work was almost exclusively at this center, while the other group was on the road 90 percent of the time.
Our management tasked me with redesigning our space to include a briefing room. This meant that office space had to shrink. Since my group was there every day, I felt that we should have adequate office space and the other three could share a space. Our coordinator strongly felt we should all be treated equally, and arguments ensued. The tension in the office grew and was almost intolerable.
This coordinator and I represented many differences, including gender, race, culture, and education, and it seemed that all of this was part of the animus of the situation. Though our office was small, this was my “all”—my microworld. I needed to understand that the “everlasting arms of Love” were “beneath, around, above,” as a hymn puts it (John R. Macduff, Christian Science Hymnal, No. 53). And that these arms of Love encircled my “all.”
Late one afternoon, I turned to God to be led and to listen. The thought came to read a copy of the Christian Science Sentinel that I had brought to work that day. In it was a beautiful article on God’s love for man, and the need to fully express divine Love in our lives.
A great sense of empowerment in Truth came to me, so I went out to the coordinator’s desk and asked if I could speak to her in my office. The tension was so thick I could literally feel the hair on the back of my neck standing up. I asked her if I could read her something. She said yes, and I read a paragraph from the Sentinel article that described our duty and opportunity to see and be the activity of Love. I explained to her that, while I didn’t always live up to that standard, it was my life goal to try.
I felt the tension melt away. Love was my refuge. I asked her if she had any more ideas regarding our office situation and suggested a compromise. In a few minutes it was all settled. Then, a wonderful thing happened. As we stood to go, she spontaneously hugged me. I simply thanked God for His allness and grace.
Mrs. Eddy’s poem referred to here begins, “O gentle presence,” and it is a constant source of comfort. As one puts into practice what Christian Science teaches about our relationship to God, one can find that His arms truly do encircle “me, and mine, and all.”
