Extraordinary Quiet

I have a sweet sense of peace after having finished Peel’s book.  I love his “Personal Testament” chapter and especially his recounting of the “turning point” in their family’s history, which he describes as having been “one of constant illness, medication, operations, hospitalization, and precarious convalescence”. (See page 184.)

His mother had just begun studying Christian Science when his father was, in the opinion of the attending physician, in need of immediate surgery if his life were to be saved.  But, in response to the mother’s gentle question as to whether the father really wanted the operation or wanted to rely wholly on God, he “gasped out God”, whereupon Peel’s mother “sat down beside his bed and bowed her head in prayer”.

Meanwhile, what the ten year old Robert felt tells the story: “I stole downstairs, greatly shaken, for in spite of all the illness we had had in the family I had never before seen such stark suffering, and my father’s groans seemed to fill the house.  But a few minutes later they stopped, and a period of extraordinary quiet followed.  It was a quiet that seemed filled with perfect peace and assurance, a quiet within and without oneself, like nothing I had ever experienced before.”

“Shortly afterward my mother came downstairs and quietly said, “It’s all right; he’s sleeping.”  Within an hour, he himself emerged, perfectly free and fit, and called the hospital to cancel the appendectomy.”

There is a wonderfully helpful article in the November 2012 copy of The Christian Science Journal which gives me the same feeling of quiet.  The article, by Stephanie Johnson, is titled “Being for the Christ”.  In it she describes an incident involving her three-year old son who was hit in the eye by a tennis ball.  She writes: “Immediately I scooped this little man up into my arms and held him tight, whispering in his ear that all was well and that God’s love was with him.  At the same time, what was “whispering” in my ear was the truth that I had been conscientiously practicing: “Be for the Christ.””

After assuring the player who had hit the tennis ball, and his concerned wife, that all would be well, the crowd dispersed.  She writes: “When my son settled down, he asked what had happened, so I told him he’d been hit by a tennis ball.  But I didn’t want to leave that mental picture on the table for either one of us.  It came to me to begin again from a spiritual perspective.  ...I said “Before that man raised his arms to hit the tennis ball, the Christ was here and divine Love reigned.  When he hit the ball, the Christ was the only power behind that action, and the ball was served with love.  Before the ball reached you, God’s love was already wrapped around you, protecting and comforting.  The Christ-love that was behind that serve was all that ever touched you.”

Now the stillness:

“My little fellow was absolutely calm.  He was not crying nor was he in pain.  ...There was never any discoloration or swelling of any kind on my son’s eye...”  (Read the whole article CSJ Nov 2012, pages 53 – 55.)

These incidents remind me of an occasion when one of our daughters was suffering, and we called a Christian Science practitioner, who came to our house to pray.  The other two children sang hymns at the piano and there was the most beautiful sense of calm.  Our daughter was soon sleeping peacefully.  That was the end of the suffering.

Julie Swannell