Once Upon a Mindset
Week 8 of 52 Churches in 52 Weeks:
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Christian Science Society in Stevens Point, Wisconsin
Once upon a time, in a mindset long, long ago, I wondered why I could not find “The One”. When I’d be out and about, I would always see these loving couples holding hands, hugging each other, and fencing each other with their tongues. Then I looked at myself. Everyone seemed to be in love but me. Where was my True Love? I knew The One was out there somewhere. But where oh where could she be? One fine day, I was galloping along in life and came across a lovely young maiden. Like a Knight in Shining Armor, I rode in with my magnificent white stallion and saved her from the evil trolls who wanted to date her in high school. After the heroic rescue, our eyes locked and our hearts instantly melted upon seeing each other. I jumped off my steed, swept her off her feet, and then she professed her undying love for me based on my charming personality, perfectly symmetrical nose, and overly-exaggerated introductory paragraphs.
With a passionate desire in her eyes, she would look into my soul and be like: “Dave, I have been searching the depths of this unboundarious world to one day have you hold me in your strong grip. I…I…
“I love you.”
We would proceed to sample each other’s lips while softly whispering sweet nothings into each other’s ears. I would cup her hand and we’d prance in slow motion through a magical enchanted forest with lush green trees, bountiful flowers, and soft-flowing water streams surrounding us. Little animated birdies would fly around us, fluttering their wings in uncontrollable joy. One of the birdies would gently rest upon my shoulder and whisper into my ear, “You my sir, are the luckiest man on earth.” And I’d reply back: “Thanks bird.” Matter of fact, every anthropomorphic animal we knew would try to wipe their tears with ultra-soft Kleenox because the sight of our True Love was too emotional for dry eyes. Why? Because we made the perfect couple. Three words, three simple words solidified it all.
It’s amazing how when uttered for the first time, “I love you” can culminate a life span of emotions into a single moment. All the dreams, all the hopes, all the projected fascinations begin to manifest from thought to reality with just a trio of syllables. Feelings begin to dance, lungs join in rhythm, and heartbeats are shared.
This is how I recall the first six months of dating Ten (see: Some Christian Assembly Required). I was convinced she pooped cotton candy, sneezed glitter, and farted Glade lilac spring aerosol. She was perfect in every imaginable way in my fairytale dreams. Our lives were headed towards a Happily Ever After, except…
One day, I got a text from her:
“My mom has cancer.”
My heart dropped. Rainbows and unicorns suddenly evaporated and replaced by doctor visits and chemotherapy. The girl I loved more than anything in the world was now making plans to go wig-shopping with mom. I tried my best to be supportive through the difficult times, become Ten’s emotional shoulder so she could do the same for mom through her darkest moments. But the worst thing was, I had no control over the situation to make her mom better.
So I prayed.
I’ve never been a big prayer guy. One of the annoying things about prayer is you can’t just rub a magic lamp and expect God to jump out in a pair of Genie parachute pants and snap His fingers to grant the wish you so desire. Sometimes it takes patience… a lot of patience… and by the time you see the end product, it’s so far wedged inside a silver lining that it’s not even recognizable from the original prayer.
Though I didn’t share a last name, I became part of the family through it’s roughest times. I witnessed the breakdowns, the downtrodden moments, and questions that started with “Why God?” The family rolled up their sleeves, forged together, and as I remember one relative saying, “we’re going to shower heaven with prayers.”
I watched this family climb out of its darkest valleys, and when it was time for me to politely exit from their lives, they showed me the right way to live. In just a few short years, Ten outgrew her insecurities to fight for a worthy ideal, channeling power through her mother’s illness to head up the Relay For Life chapter of the local university to raise money for breast cancer. The night of Relay, the greatest takeaway from that night was when mom, high off life, stretched for my hand as she was Zumba dancing in front of everyone. At first, I was hesitant to venture outside my comfort zone. But then I realized something. To live as if we’re dying gives us a way to free ourselves from everything.
Then I whipped out some really bad dance moves.
Last week, I was disappointed to learn that the Christian Science Society was shutdown in my hometown, though the “Toilet Paper Church” sure made up for it. This past Sunday, I made an hour’s worth drive to Stevens Point, Wisconsin to visit the nearest Christian Science branch in my area. Odd thing was, it was just a few blocks from the UW-Stevens Point Quandt Field House where I had my Zumba dance all those years ago. It definitely crossed my mind driving by.
I had high expectations visiting Christian Science Society for week 8 of 52 Churches in 52 Weeks. Now granted, I wasn’t expecting to find crucifixes combined with a periodic table at the altar or anything like that, but I hypothesized that given the name alone, the denomination would bridge Christian beliefs with those of today’s modern day science. That would make sense, right?
Well, not exactly.
November 30, 2014–10:00 am Sunday Worship Service: Christian Science Society in Stevens Point, Wisconsin
I was met at the front door by Tom. He was an older gentleman who wore flannel and was a tad on the heavier side. He apologized that the entrance was dirty and gave me a retelling of the previous week where the church had a power outage. He lost me when he started discussing how many electric unit charges were involved.
“Do you have any bulletins?” I interrupted, since like most worship services, that little paper pamphlet will give a clue as to what to expect for the church’s processional. Tom replied back, “No, we don’t have any bulletins, but we do have a bulletin board.” I was half-expecting Fozzie Bear to pop-up and shout “Wocka Wocka Wocka!” at such a cheesy response. Instead, Tom raised his hand to the bulletin board like he was Vanna White and that I’d correctly answered a Wheel of Fortune puzzle. This was a moment I found socially awkward.
I escaped to the sanctuary which was considerably small, consisting of six small-sized pews on both sides of the main aisle. The pews, side walls, pulpit, “God is Love” centerpiece, everything was made of honey maple wood. “Would you like a quarterly?”, asked a very sweet ‘ole lady who served as usher. I said “sure” and she returned with the Christian Science Quarterly and a free copy of Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures by the 19th century founder of Christian Science, Mary Baker Eddy. I was a bit taken back that they would gift me a 700-page book after I was given toilet paper at the church visited last week.
The church population for this service consisted of seven people, two of which were female congregants who co-piloted the pulpit (apparently there is no pastor in Christian Science). Other than the sweet lady usher, Tom, and myself, there were two others in the pews. The Bible lesson for the day came from the Quarterly for November 24–30, 2014:
Ancient and Modern Necromancy, alias Mesmerism and Hypnotism, Denounced
I was trying to keep an open mind.
The sermon consisted of seesaw readings where one lady read several Bible passages in succession to what was listed in the Quarterly, then the other lady followed-up with selected passages from the Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures book, which was prefaced as containing “correlative passages” that were “spiritually imported” and “divinely authorized” from the 19th century mindset of “our leader, Mary Baker Eddy”.
When the readings started to get into animal magnetism and how “matter is a mortal error” and that sickness is made-up in our heads, I began to get to get uncomfortable, and it wasn’t just because of the readings. Tom was seated up front and had fallen asleep, which meant certain doom for him if he was hypnotized by the readings. I wondered about the other congregants on how they picked such a church as I wasn’t feeling inspired (especially after the readings of how animal magnetism exerted invisible evil matter). I don’t know if I fully comprehended what was being preached, but here I thought I was the only one who feared squirrels retaliating against me.
The service concluded with a reading of the final hymn, then the two female congregants said something. I don’t remember what they said since I was more in disbelief that they exited behind trap doors which were underneath the “God” and “Love” writings from the centerpiece.
After the service, I did some research on Christian Science (ok, more of a Wikipedia search, so sue me), and the most glaring difference between Christian Science and more accepted forms of Christianity is the philosophy that disease is a mental error rather than a physical ailment, and therefore the sick is most effectively treated by prayer alone and should avoid medical care. Apparently, I was the only one in the congregation who signed up on healthcare.gov this week for insurance.
The Christian Science Society was very accommodating for my visit and I can’t foresee other churches giving away a 700-page book to assist my understanding of a denomination. Looking through the eyes of a millennial Christian, I began to ponder if I had ADD due to the service structure as there was no interpretation, just an exchanging of passages. Additionally, I couldn’t grasp my mind around the dated scientific views like animal magnetism, especially when Baker’s words were perceived to be on equal footing as the Bible. It doesn’t help that my research suggested modern science has essentially debunked theories that served some capacity to the 19th century scientific framework that was founded in the Science and Health book.
After the service, my memory banks flooded back to when Ten’s mom was battling breast cancer. When she felt defeated and couldn’t find the inner strength to go much further, the family picked her up emotionally and spiritually to aid in the fight. While I would disagree with the Christian Science philosophy towards medical care (as the family was going to take advantage of the best available options to defeat cancer), I was reminded by the “showering heaven with prayers” line which is something that every Christian, regardless of denomination, can attest to.
I heard through the grapevine that mom did make a full recovery. To this day, she likely still has better Zumba dance moves. Before I had politely taken my last bow from their lives, the adversity the family had faced resulted in a stronger bond than the family I first met. In the end, I like to think my prayer contributed to that in a small way. For whatever it’s worth, the threat of dying showed me the art of living.
