I am the librarian of a Christian Science Reading Room in a busy downtown area of a city in central California. Assisting visitors in their search for spiritual insights and guidance has been rewarding. Each interaction, whether helping someone find a publication like the Journal, or engaging in a meaningful conversation, has left a lasting impression on me.
Several years ago, at a time I had been praying specifically about violence in our cities, two men dressed in black—one of whom was wearing a ski mask—came into the Reading Room. Since it was a warm day, I had left the front door propped open a little to be more welcoming and to show we were open for business.
Although I was alone, I was able to remain composed. Looking up from my desk, I quietly asked the men, “How can I help you?” There was no response. I could see a look of fear in their eyes. Perhaps they didn’t know what to say or were afraid to answer.
I had been praying specifically about violence in our cities.
“I’m going to have a cup of tea; would you like a cup?” I offered. They were clearly bewildered by the invitation, but they sat down across from me, and I served them tea in my china teacups. Still, they said nothing.
As I spoke to them in a reassuring tone, suddenly they started crying and began to pour out what was in their heart. They said they’d been released from prison two months earlier and had been living on the streets. They weren’t accepted anywhere they went in the city and they couldn’t find jobs.
I did not ask what kind of crime they had committed or anything personal. Rather, I reassured them that God doesn’t hold any of us to past sins because He does not create or know sin, or a sinner. God sees us as His sinless, beloved children. We are never separated from His love or the kingdom of heaven. Knowing this enables us to move forward with pure motives and not repeat past mistakes.
I then shared with them Mary Baker Eddy’s discovery of Christian Science over one hundred years ago, which brought to the world this magnificent truth. The men perked up and appeared to be listening, digesting the ideas I was sharing. Then they got up to go, commenting that they had walked by the Reading Room many times and were so glad they had finally come in. Before walking out the door, they turned around and said, “Thank you.” I said, “Please come back and share your good news with me.”
Then a most wonderful thing happened: A few days later, the two men returned and said they had both found jobs. They were so happy.
The two men returned and said they had both found jobs.
A week later, a visitor to our Reading Room told me that he had recently been talking to a stranger about his problems at one of our local coffee shops, when the stranger suddenly put up his hand and said: “Stop! Go to the Christian Science Reading Room and talk to the lady of light” (he meant me). I asked the man who the stranger was, and he said: “He is the parole officer for the two ex-convicts that you helped!”
There’s more. Last week, now four years later, as I was about to close the Reading Room at the end of the day, I noticed a well-dressed man walking toward me. He stopped to talk and said, “I am a retired parole officer and I came by to thank you for helping to turn around peoples’ lives.” I told him I had simply seen the real, spiritual identity of the two men. He commented that he, too, got great results by treating prisoners with dignity. I said, “Thank you.” We then exchanged polite goodbyes.
This experience was a wonderful reminder to me that everyone who serves so selflessly in Reading Rooms around the world is truly a “lady”—or man—“of light.” Christ Jesus said of his followers, “Ye are the light of the world. A city that is set on an hill cannot be hid. Neither do men light a candle, and put it under a bushel, but on a candlestick; and it giveth light unto all that are in the house. Let your light so shine before men, that they may see your good works, and glorify your Father which is in heaven” (Matthew 5:14–16).
