Recently I was rereading the story of Abraham in Genesis, seeking its inspiration. While he is often referred to as the Father of Faith, Abraham certainly had several episodes of doubt and lack of faith in his life (see, for example, Genesis 15:2–4 and Genesis 17:15–19). Yet Mary Baker Eddy wrote of him, “This patriarch illustrated the purpose of Love to create trust in good, and showed the life-preserving power of spiritual understanding” (Science and Health, p. 579). I love the thought that it is divine Love’s purpose to create trust in good!

About 18 years ago, I had an experience that, not unlike Abraham’s, led to victory over doubt and unfaithfulness. Through the teachings of Christian Science, I am now able to look at it with the goal of seeing Love’s purpose in—and of realizing what God is communicating to me about—life. And like any good Bible story, the experience will surely be teaching me for years to come.

I had a mental breakdown and was diagnosed with bipolar disorder. The doctors said that the disease was incurable, that it would become more severe as I aged, and that medication would be required for the rest of my life to control the symptoms. The diagnosis was devastating. I had never even heard the word bipolar before, but as the doctors continued to describe the symptoms, I found myself agreeing with their assessment.

I had been a Christian Scientist all my life, taken Christian Science class instruction, worked diligently for the local Christian Science branch church to which I belonged, and experienced many, many healings. I had prayed on my own and with the support of practitioners for relief from the bouts of depression that had troubled me since high school and had always found freedom, or so I thought. 

Now a doctor was telling me that what I had called healings were merely the natural course of an illness. Feeling like a complete failure as a Christian Scientist, I resigned from the branch church, The Mother Church, and even my Christian Science students’ association. In hopelessness and despair, I began medical treatment. The feeling that my reliance on Christian Science had betrayed me felt as incurable as the disease itself.

After a year or so on medication, I became dissatisfied with the side effects and began exploring alternative treatments: “energy healing,” regression analysis, hypnosis, exercise, acupuncture, nutritional supplements, chiropractic, meditation, the “Course in Miracles.” In each case, relief was temporary. Then I had a second breakdown. I returned to the hospital for another couple of weeks of outpatient treatment, which included new medications and hours of counseling. It had been several years since the first diagnosis and there were now new medications available that supposedly didn’t have as many side effects. I found that to be true for a while, but within 18 months, troubling side effects became apparent. So the doctor added another pill to my daily regimen. The monthly cost of the medications was $500–$700. Thankfully it was covered by my employer’s insurance program, but I was also painfully aware that this need for insurance would make it difficult to ever switch jobs.

What I can now refer to as my “Day of Reckoning” came in the car one Sunday morning as I was returning home from a weekend at a girlfriend’s place. Since leaving Christian Science, I had begun drinking socially. Even though the prescription drugs I was taking carried a warning not to consume alcohol, I frequently drank wine anyway. This weekend, however, the combination of drugs and alcohol made me feel really sick. As I was driving home, feeling stupid for ignoring those warnings, my thoughts were abruptly interrupted with two questions: “Where are you going, My child? How long are you going to keep this up?” The interruption was so unexpected—yet so clear—that I pulled off the road and stopped the car. The questions came with such authority that I knew they were coming from God and that there was no arguing with them. My answer was honest: “I don’t know, Father. Please tell me what to do. I’m listening.” What came next was a directive to call a specific Christian Science practitioner with whom I had worked many years ago. I did so as soon as I got home that evening. The healing started immediately.

“I never said you had to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. I am with you always.”

The practitioner listened patiently as I told him of my deep desire to be free of the medications and their side effects, as well as the fear of what would happen if I stopped taking them. He was unfazed, agreed to take the case, and reminded me that God loves me without reservation. He prayed with me for only a couple of days before the fear of stopping the medication lost its hold on me. And even though I never said a word about it to the practitioner, the desire to drink alcohol disappeared after our first conversation.

Then one day this question came to thought: “So, if you aren’t bipolar, what are you?” I shared this question with the practitioner, and he encouraged me to diligently seek an answer. So in addition to studying the weekly Christian Science Bible Lesson each morning, I started reading Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by Mary Baker Eddy from cover to cover. Especially meaningful were references in it to Eddy’s own search for healing, including forays into homeopathy, water therapy, and other therapeutic methods common in her day (see p. 152). Each day it became easier to believe that the ten years I had spent pursuing healing in every possible way were not wasted, but would ultimately “work together for good” (Romans 8:28). I can now see that as I tried each different therapy, I was gradually losing faith in the healing power of matter and the human mind. It wasn’t long before I again felt the childlike trust in God that had guided me for most of my life. I began to believe that God still loved me. I stopped taking the medication and kept praying. 

Within six weeks of beginning work with the practitioner, the concern I felt about returning to my branch church was overcome as the desire to worship God overcame the fear of what people might think. It was also tremendously comforting when I grasped the idea that Church, which Mary Baker Eddy defines as “the structure of Truth and Love; …” (Science and Health, p. 583), is necessarily infinite in proportion. I had never wandered from Church because there is no place “outside” of Church. The warm reception the members gave me proved that fact! I soon reapplied to the branch church, The Mother Church, and my Christian Science students’ association. In every instance I was accepted back with love and without questions.

One night soon after this, I was having a particularly difficult time sleeping and began to berate myself with harsh, self-condemning thoughts like: “You have a perfect husband, loving parents, beautiful children, money in the bank, a nice house. What are you crying about?! Pull yourself up by your bootstraps and quit whining!” I reached out to God with all my heart and told Him that I didn’t think I was going to make it. It all felt too hard, and I felt so alone. He quickly responded in this thought that came to me: “I never said you had to do this alone. I never said you had to pull yourself up by your bootstraps. I am with you always. Rest now.” That was the end of the vicious, self-tormenting episodes. From then on, if I did awaken at night, the verse of a hymn often came to mind to keep me company until sleep resumed.

There were other days when the challenge of the disease seemed insurmountable, but I was gradually learning what Eddy meant when she wrote that we must “watch, and pray for that Mind to be in us which was also in Christ Jesus; …” (Science and Health, p. 497). When it felt like I was getting out of balance or anxious, the Bible verse, “Thou wilt keep him in perfect peace, whose mind is stayed on thee” (Isaiah 26:3) restored me. I imagined God “driving” my thoughts, making gentle corrections to them, like one steers a car to keep it on the road. God always drove my thought to love—love for my husband and children, the love of my parents, the laugh of a friend, the playfulness of our dog. These moments gave me a glimpse of a love for life that was still alive beneath the mental anguish. Gradually, this love even replaced the feelings that Christian Science, the Science of Love, had somehow failed me.

The whole of Christian life is worshipping God—acknowledging His presence, asking Him for guidance, praising His goodness.

We can all take comfort in Eddy’s words, “If Christian Scientists ever fail to receive aid from other Scientists,—their brethren upon whom they may call,—God will still guide them into the right use of temporary and eternal means” (Science and Health, p. 444). As part of this healing, it was necessary for me to acknowledge and appreciate the “temporary means” of help, even as I became aware that God was now guiding me to the “eternal means” of Christian Science. The medical professionals from whom I’d sought help were kind and compassionate. I remember one psychologist advising me to remember that, while the symptoms of bipolar may be very convincing, they were never me; they were only the disease “talking.”

During quiet times at work, I would ask God what to think about. I kept a pad of paper at hand to write down things for which I was grateful, even things as mundane as the piece of paper on which to write! This discipline taught me that the whole of Christian life is worshipping God—thinking of Him, acknowledging His presence, asking Him for guidance, praising His goodness. Surely keeping our thoughts “stayed” on God is the forever joy of life.

The last time I experienced any bipolar symptoms was about ten months after I stopped taking medication. Feeling heavy with sadness and other signs of depression, I called the practitioner, then sat down to read the Lesson, which included the story of Jesus’ crucifixion and resurrection. When I got to these lines in Science and Health giving the inspired interpretation of the crucifixion, I broke down in tears: “The motives of his [Jesus’] persecutors were pride, envy, cruelty, and vengeance, inflicted on the physical Jesus, but aimed at the divine Principle, Love, which rebuked their sensuality” (p. 51). Jesus understood the motives and aims of his persecutors. He also knew without a doubt that God was his life. Knowing these things secured his victory. Understanding his victory secured mine. In that moment I knew that mental illness would not be victorious over my life. For the first time, I saw the impersonal nature of the bipolar diagnosis and knew it was not part of me or anyone.

The other idea that moved me to tears that morning was the recognition that Jesus had not used his brain (a personal sense of mind) to raise himself from the grave. That brain was as dormant as the body on the cross. It was divine Mind, God, that raised him and was raising me. With those realizations, I knew I was safe. I still do not have the vocabulary to fully explain the spiritual charge that went through me that morning. Fear was replaced with the feeling of being well—really, truly well. Christ Jesus’ selfless example touched me and made me whole, as it has millions of others through the centuries. He lived to show us the inspired meaning of Love, the strength of Mind, the power of Truth, the joy of Life. The Comforter, Christian Science, is with us today to give us the inspired word about our lives—the truth that redeems and resurrects us.

This healing took place more than six years ago, and I can honestly say that childlike trust and full-toned joy are all that remain of the experience. I feel as though I lived these words of Mary Baker Eddy’s Message to The Mother Church for 1902: “To the burdened and weary, Jesus saith: ‘Come unto me.’ O glorious hope! there remaineth a rest for the righteous, a rest in Christ, a peace in Love. The thought of it stills complaint; the heaving surf of life’s troubled sea foams itself away, and underneath is a deep-settled calm” (p. 19).

God made you to glorify Him. Nothing can interfere with His purpose for you. Know that you are living an inspired life. Let Christ reveal the deep-settled calm that is the bedrock of your being. Then, “make a joyful noise unto God …. Sing forth the honour of his name: make his praise glorious” (Psalms 66:1, 2).