Chest pain and weakness healed

One Thursday morning early in 2007 I was substituting in a bridge game at our community clubhouse when I began to feel ill. I felt a tightness squeezing my chest and left arm.

I’ve been a student of Christian Science for more than 50 years, and have come to rely on it to meet my every human need. I’ve never been disappointed, and I knew I was safe in God’s loving care this time, too.

I was the only Christian Scientist among this group, so I prayed silently. I was grateful that no one apparently noticed my distress. I didn’t want to frighten or burden others. When the game was over, I slowly made my way outside.

By then, I felt very weak and in pain. When I came to the end of the railing alongside the building, I could no longer stand upright, and I sank to the curb. It was windy and cold, and there was no one in sight. I had only another hundred feet or so to traverse to reach the sanctuary of my car in the parking lot, but it might as well have been a hundred miles.

One of the things I’ve learned in my study of Christian Science is that all symptoms of disease are nothing more than false evidence. And false evidence is really no evidence at all. Although the situation appeared bleakly real, I knew it could never truly be real or become real.

I live my daily life aware of and rejoicing in “the scientific statement of being,” elucidated on page 468 of the textbook of Christian Science, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, by Mary Baker Eddy. Part of this important statement declares that “Spirit is the real and eternal; matter is the unreal and temporal.” And so, despite the pain and weakness, I didn’t feel afraid as I sat on the curbside. I knew that God was my very Life, that I was one with His eternal presence, and that my present human needs would be met. I could “stand still and see the salvation of the Lord,” as I remembered both Moses and Jahaziel had counseled the Israelites in Bible history (see Ex. 14 and II Chron. 20).

As I huddled there, praying to know what to do next, a young woman, an employee of the club, suddenly came around the corner of the building. She helped me to my feet. With her arm to lean on, we made our way to my car, and I assured her I would just sit there until I knew I could drive safely. I spent the next ten or 15 minutes in prayerful trust and gratitude for what I knew would be a continuing step-by-step revealing of God’s perfect care.

Then the club’s security officer came by and tapped on my car window, inquiring if I was OK. The young woman at the office had asked him to check on me. I assured him that I was feeling better, and he offered to escort me home safely. Evidently he was satisfied with how I looked, moved, and spoke, and so left me at my door, with my thanks for his kindness.

But once inside, the symptoms overtook me. I prayed to know if I should call someone. The answer that came was yes. The only family member who might be available was my son-in-law.

“I need you,” was all I could say when he answered his cellphone. He said he’d be on his way. His answer gave me such a surge of strength, joy, and confidence in God’s continuous care for me.

I then called a Christian Science practitioner for support, and he, too, offered to come and see me.

All I wanted to do was get into bed, and even this seemed like a pretty iffy possibility. My son-in-law soon arrived, and I was so grateful for his presence and for the practical help he provided.

I never made it into bed, I’m happy to report. When my son-in-law left, after the practitioner’s arrival I at first sat in a chair beside the bed while he gave me Christian Science treatment through prayer. Then we moved to the living room so he could be seated more comfortably. We talked about spiritual truths with each other, enjoying the opportunity to do so. I don’t remember our speaking much about the nature of the apparent problem—just about the Science of spiritual being. We realized that a healing is always a correction of a false belief, not of an actual physical condition, and that the body—the embodiment of human thought—had no choice but to improve in obedience to corrected thought, which is in line with the divine.

I also understood that God had “not given us the spirit of fear; but of power, and of love, and of a sound mind” (II Tim. 1:7). “Fear hath torment,” said John (I John 4:18). Fear and its torment are therefore no part of any of us at any time, under any circumstance. It may seem to be a part of us—it may claim very insistently to be—but it can never be, because we are the exact likeness of God: perfect in form, in function, and in feeling.

After a while, I was able to go to the kitchen, where I prepared food for myself and a beverage for the practitioner. I had no fear of being alone when he left. Somewhere along the line, the pain and tightness had loosened and then disappeared from my chest. The reality of fear and all its false evidence was being disproved and dispossessed.

I spent a comfortable evening studying Science and Health, and my joy returned. Step by step the order and grace of God’s law of love established itself in my thought. I slept well that night.

The next day I was scheduled to meet friends for lunch, and it took very little debate with myself to decide that I could go ahead with those plans. By the end of that weekend, all that was left of that particular experience was profound gratitude for its proof of the goodness and power of God’s great love for His beautiful creation, including me. The symptoms have never returned, and it has now been a year since the healing took place.

I view this entire experience as just another opportunity to glorify God, to demonstrate my inseparable oneness with all that God is. I think of it as a Christian demonstration of the Science underlying all being, and not just of my own.

Carol Patrick Wagner | Lake Quivira, Kansas, US