Shortly before I became a serious student of Christian Science, I was medically diagnosed with bipolar disorder, commonly described as manic depression.

According to medical opinions, a chemical imbalance could make me feel angry, sad, or even happy, at the drop of a hat. My behavior was often wildly irrational, and I can remember frequently crying for days on end. I’d become enraged over the smallest things; yet, in moments of relative calm, bigger problems wouldn’t faze me at all. They’d just wash over me, and my family and friends were left feeling puzzled about my response. Because I couldn’t afford the cost of expensive medication, I was left with virtually no treatment options. Or so I thought.

When I began to see the effects of Christian Science treatment in other areas of my life, I began to realize that complete cure through prayer was possible. I decided that making concerted efforts to spiritualize my thoughts would be my choice to treat the condition.

Little did I realize that the blessings as a result of this new commitment, would have me “kissing the cross,” as Mary Baker Eddy wrote in her poem, “Christ My Refuge”:

To me, this “cross kissing” was all about letting a tough situation transform my thoughts, step by step, and also becoming so grateful for the goodness that was permeating every facet of my being. I found that, throughout the trial, I was actually glad for the many opportunities I had to feel God’s love on a deeper level.

Because it didn’t make sense to me that an all-loving God would cause mental chaos, I decided to challenge this concept of instability and incurability, facing it head on. Any time I felt out of control and alone—with thoughts like “That person makes me enraged,” or “This situation makes me depressed,” or even “Being in this beautiful place makes me happy”—I reexamined the word makes. If I believed that anything wielded power over me besides God, those mistaken ideas had to go. Eventually, it became easier not to let this roller coaster of emotions get in the way of my peace.

Whenever reckless thoughts would confront me, I would correct them by mentally affirming that God alone made me, animated me, and that I continuously expressed His good nature. This wasn’t a willful exercise, but was simply honoring God and being obedient to the First Commandment from the Bible, about having one God, one Creator (see Ex. 20:3).

As time went by, I gained a purer view of my spiritual heritage and began to keep tabs on how I was identifying myself. Thoughts like “I am really angry” were purged and replaced with “I am peaceful and judicious because God is.” Whatever followed the “I am” in those sentences, had to describe a Christly quality. I was beginning to understand that what was spiritually true about me was the only truth to know. And I understood that witnessing this true state of being was a powerful prayer.

Crying spells and angry outbursts were gradually replaced with surrender to the fact of God’s present goodness. My prayers expanded to include others. Thoughts like “She’s so annoying” were corrected and brought into spiritual focus. Admittedly, when I was angry or troubled, the best I could honestly think at times would be things like “He may be so difficult for me to be around, but he’s working on building his character.” Purifying my thoughts, sometimes one by one, also meant that I was making myself obedient to the Christian demand “Thou shalt love thy neighbour as thyself” (Matt. 19:19). And approaching things from this standpoint had a decidedly healthy effect on my well-being.

A turning point in my prayers came on one of those days when I could hardly make it out of bed. I felt so depressed I couldn’t handle the idea of going into work. But people were depending on me to meet deadlines, so I couldn’t stay home and hide, as I’d often done in the past. I called a Christian Science practitioner, and we talked about God’s love. I can remember feeling warm and safe. At first I thought, “Wow! Wouldn’t it be great to call this guy each day and have him pray for me.” And then, a quantum leap happened in my thought.

I suddenly felt motivated to study Christian Science a little harder and try to gain the perspective that he had—I could have his confidence in God, too. It wasn’t about leaning on the practitioner’s personal understanding; the warmth I felt was the power of God’s presence. Back at work that same day, I had a period of feeling truly one with God.

In the weeks that followed, the symptoms associated with the depression stopped being so impressive, whereas before the possibility of my feeling free had seemed remote. Around that same time, I was inspired to join my local Christian Science branch church, become a member of The Mother Church, and take Christian Science Primary class instruction. All of this happened over a few years.

A whole new sense of what it meant to be satisfied was emerging. I stopped making mental deals with myself that limited my expression of God’s goodness—in other words, when I had thoughts like “I’ll be happy when and if this project is finished,” I’d pause and realize that I was constantly setting conditions about when it would be appropriate to be happy. The word want in my thinking also stood out. During those emotional swings when I’d felt euphoric, I often spent tons of money on things I couldn’t afford and had a tendency to be greedy. The dictionary defines want as to lack something requisite, or to desire something to make existence better. But as I saw that God was the source of all my supply, I was finding I couldn’t be deprived of anything essential. If God made me perfect, spiritually sound and whole, how could acquiring material things bring satisfaction? When I stopped wishing things were different, and started living in the “nowness” of God’s government, genuine gratitude developed. My spending habits adjusted accordingly.

Some ideas from Science and Health, a resource I turned to constantly, helped cement the idea that I didn’t have to accept the finality of a medical diagnosis about my mental health: “We are all sculptors, working at various forms, moulding and chiseling thought. What is the model before mortal mind? Is it imperfection, joy, sorrow, sin, suffering? Have you accepted the mortal model? Are you reproducing it? Then you are haunted in your work by vicious sculptors and hideous forms” (p. 248). I wondered why Mary Baker Eddy included the Christlike quality of joy along with sorrow, sin, and suffering. But as I prayed, it became clear that it is just as unreliable to consider good qualities as being at the mercy of material circumstances, as it is to consider bad qualities as being at the mercy of material circumstances. Joy is a quality of divine Mind, I realized, and is never subject to material circumstances. And God made us to express His joy continuously.

This process of actively spiritualizing thought took several years of disciplined spiritual growth. It wasn’t always easy, but faith that the Christ was in action guided me along the way. My journey included thoroughly reading and studying the weekly Christian Science Bible Lesson, as well as reading the Christian Science periodicals from cover to cover.

Then an interesting thing happened. I was so caught up in spiritualizing my thought and realizing the countless blessings this was bringing, that I eventually forgot the reason I’d begun doing the thought shaping and the daily praying in the first place.

About three and a half years after I’d been treating this condition through prayer, praying with a Christian Science practitioner often, and growing steadily stronger and clearer in my thoughts each day, I had a conversation with my fiancée, now my wife, whom I’d met at church. I wanted her to know about my “history,” and about the diagnosis I’d received years earlier. As we talked, I realized that it had been over a year since I’d experienced any symptoms of bipolar disorder. My heart was full, and I paused in amazement and awe. I was free.

It’s been over ten years since that conversation. And I’ve been rational and mentally healthy the entire time. Family members often remark about the positive changes that have happened in my life, and we’ve since maintained good relationships.

My inclination that a spiritualization of thought would lead me out of mental darkness had been correct. And I give full credit to God for it. My sole motivation in recounting this experience is to share my conviction that it’s everyone’s God-given right to be mentally sound and able to experience lasting joy.

This article was published in the July 14, 2008 issue of the Christian Science Sentinel. To learn more about this weekly inspirational magazine, published online and in print, visit HERE.