From loss to Life

When I was a young girl, I would often spend time with my father looking up into the stars at night, pondering the grandness of God. In moments like these, I felt especially close to my father, possibly because we felt so close to God together. The memory of those nights continues to teach me valuable lessons about the power of humility to reveal a glimpse of infinite Life.

An understanding of Life as God suddenly became imperative when my father passed on unexpectedly. After months spent oscillating between prayer and much struggle, I ultimately found that praying about loss and grief is really about uncovering another story: one that reveals that right where pain and loss seem to be, there is an open door to joy and transformation.

A statement by Mary Baker Eddy guided me unfailingly: “The heavenly intent of earth’s shadows is to chasten the affections, to rebuke human consciousness and turn it gladly from a material, false sense of life and happiness, to spiritual joy and true estimate of being” (“Retrospection and Introspection,” p. 21).

Even though I did not see it in the beginning, what Mrs. Eddy unfolds to us is the fact that there is only one infinite stream of Life, in which we all exist continuously – we cannot leave it. An estimate of life as material and mortal suggests that we can become disconnected and isolated from this stream. However, in spite of the pervasive notion that mortality is the nature of our existence, the struggles in human life can humble and nudge us to recognize immortality as our true life.

During the first months after the loss of my father, I feared that I had lost a part of my own identity as well as a palpable connection to divine Life. Despite daily prayer and a supportive environment, I slipped into paralyzing depression. Still, beneath the mental battle, I knew that through turning to God with my whole heart, I would find a new path.

One night, I knelt on the floor in anguish, reaching out to God for an answer. And an answer came gently and clearly. I was reminded of something my father had said to me: “You only overcome death through Love. You just love.”

For a long time, I had not fully understood this statement, but in that moment, it was clear. When watching the stars with my father, if I tried to find light in the dark space around the stars, it would never yield any shape or form. Similarly, I realized I was trying to find meaning and answers in death and despair. The answer was Love, which is spiritual and enduring and the only real substance, shape, or form.

By readjusting my focus and actions on Love, I realigned myself with true substance and Life so I could experience the fathering qualities of God. I learned that I could find the infinite, spiritual individuality of my father only when I looked to our infinite Father-Mother God, Spirit. As the Psalmist affirms, “With thee is the fountain of life: in thy light shall we see light” (Psalms 36:9).

In Retrospection and Introspection, Mrs. Eddy wrote of her own family history, which included several tragic events before she discovered Christian Science. But after describing these events, she wrote, “The human history needs to be revised, and the material record expunged” (p. 22).

To revise something is to alter it, often in light of further information. Over the following months, when I struggled with memories – either sad ones that created fear, or happy ones that created nostalgia – I would then let go of what did not express Love and Life and to keep what did. I found that this process took discipline and humility. It also brought peace, strength, and the deepest joy. And these are what have stayed. Today, I am free of grief and depression and feel the gentle invitation for a closer walk with God.

My closeness to my father continues to deepen, through closeness to our Father, in beautiful ways, and a spiritual joy and lightness have been restored. God always answers when we ask, and the door is always opened when we knock.

Adapted from an article published in the Feb. 22, 2021, issue of the Christian Science Sentinel.