Your Christmas Story

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Unity teaches that the Christ is the essence of God individualized in each of us. Yet most of us have accepted ideas of lack, limitation, and separation as the basis of our identity. Over time, these ideas take form—not only in our thinking, but in our bodies, our relationships, and our circumstances. The spiritual journey, then, is not about becoming something new, but about remembering what we already are.

The Christmas story describes this recovery of awareness through symbol and soul-language.

Mary represents spiritual receptivity—the intuitive dimension of consciousness that is open to the movement of Spirit. She is the part of us that knows life is more than survival and circumstance. Mary is the higher Self that listens inwardly and trusts what it hears. Without this receptive awareness, no spiritual birth is possible.

Joseph represents the intellect, but not as ruler. In the awakening soul, the intellect undergoes a quiet conversion. Once dominant, it becomes attentive. Once authoritative, it becomes discerning. Joseph learns to observe rather than control, to protect what is emerging without attempting to define it prematurely. He stands watch over truths that arise not from reasoning, but from the deeper regions of the soul.

The shepherds symbolize our capacity to watch over our thoughts and feelings. As they keep vigil by night, we are invited into conscious awareness—learning to notice what occupies our inner field. In moments of quiet prayer or reflection, we release what is unproductive and refocus our spiritual energy on what nurtures life, wholeness, and peace.

The wise ones from the East represent the soul’s innate wisdom. Just as the oak unfolds from the acorn, so the soul unfolds according to an intelligence greater than fear. When we commit to growth, the wisdom we need is revealed step by step. The gift is not given all at once—but always on time. This is your Christmas story. The Christ is not born once in Bethlehem, but continually within the receptive, attentive, and trusting human heart.

The Inner Alignment of Power and Intelligence

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Jesus’ teaching on faith that “moves mountains” is not a call to defy nature but an invitation to return to our inner center—the quiet place where divine power becomes strength and divine intelligence becomes light. True strength is not personal will but alignment with the Source from which all possibility arises. This week, the teaching on Power and Intelligence takes us deeper into that alignment, showing how the light of divine guidance directs the very power that sustains us.

When Jesus urges us to “believe and not doubt in the heart,” he is describing a shift in focus. The mountain symbolizes the problem that appears immovable. Faith is not pretending the mountain isn’t there; it is remembering that we are not defined by it.

The Genesis writer captured this inner movement with the first creative command: “Let there be light.” This was not physical light but the illumination of divine intelligence—the radiant clarity that brings order to chaos. Power provides the energy, and intelligence gives it direction. Together, they form the spiritual architecture of every breakthrough, every healing, every step toward wholeness.

Like King Jehoshaphat, we all know what it is to feel overwhelmed. His prayer—“We do not know what to do, but our eyes are upon Thee”—is the perfect union of these two qualities. He releases reliance on personal strength and opens to the larger field of divine guidance (intelligence). The battle shifts from the outer to the inner field. The moment fear dissolves, clarity arises.

When we affirm “Let there be light,” we are not asking for something new to descend from the heavens; we are awakening what is already present in the soul. Divine intelligence is omnipresent, waiting for recognition. Power is ever-flowing, waiting for direction. When the two meet, mountains move—not by force, but by realization.

In quiet prayer, let your focus return to your center. Breathe in power; breathe out strength. Then affirm the light of intelligence is making your next step clear. This is the mystic’s path: strength without struggle, clarity without strain, and guidance arising from the indwelling Presence that never fails.

The Accepting Prayer of Thanksgiving

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Last week, we explored the principle of Divine Order—the understanding that spiritual order unfolds naturally when we acknowledge it rather than attempt to force it. This week, we build on that foundation by focusing on a practice that aligns consciousness with that order: the accepting prayer of thanksgiving.

Thanksgiving is more than gratitude for what has already manifested. It is a spiritual state of receiving, a recognition that good is already in motion even when our senses have yet to confirm it. When we give thanks before the evidence appears, we shift from a mindset of striving to a mindset of trust. We are not trying to establish divine order—we are remembering that it is already present.

This is why Jesus taught, “Your Father knows what you need before you ask.” Prayer, then, is not information for God; it is preparation of the mind. Thanksgiving raises our expectation, creating a mental and emotional atmosphere in which the good we seek can be recognized and accepted.

Consider a moment in your life where anxiety overshadowed clarity. A request made from fear often assumes lack. A request offered in thankfulness acknowledges abundance. The same prayer can either close the heart or open it, depending on the consciousness in which it is spoken.

The accepting prayer of thanksgiving aligns us with spiritual reality:

•Divine order is already in motion

•Good is already unfolding

•We are prepared to receive

In this light, thanksgiving becomes an act of faith—not blind belief, but confident expectancy. We give thanks now because spiritual law is already at work. We give thanks now because good is seeking expression. We give thanks now because our role is not to create divine order but to cooperate with it.

Take a situation in your life that feels unresolved. Instead of pleading for change, affirm quietly:

“Thank you, Father, that divine order is now unfolding here.”

Let the feeling of trust do its quiet work.

An Act of Faith

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The Freeing Truth of Letting Go

There are times when life presses us to release what we’ve been clinging to—plans, relationships, expectations, or even the image we’ve carried of who we are. To the mind, letting go might feel like failure or loss. But to the soul, it is freeing.

Letting go is not doing nothing, and it’s not giving up. It is a quiet acknowledgment that our limited grasp of the situation cannot hold all the factors that belong to Divine order. When Jesus prayed in Gethsemane, “Not my will, but Thine be done,” he was not surrendering to defeat; he was surrendering to the Infinite Wisdom that sees the bigger picture that may be hidden from us. 

Faith begins where our ability to control ends. The moment we release our tight hold, something larger can move through us. The need to manage outcomes is replaced by a calm expectation that Love, operating through all things, is bringing forth what serves the highest good. Letting go becomes an act of trust in a power and a wisdom greater than our own.

We are not always quick to see or even imagine new possibilities, especially when we’re caught up in appearances. The tree releases its leaves before new buds appear. The same law governs the soul: release precedes renewal. We see this rhythm in operation throughout the natural world. The old is let go and the new takes its place.

To let go is to say yes to life’s deeper current. It is to affirm, even without visible proof, that divine wisdom knows the way when we do not. The act of release opens our mind and heart to unseen possibilities. We keep the door of our faith, our expectation open with the understanding that God’s infinite wisdom is paving the way for something good.

Faith, then, is not an effort to believe harder, but a willingness to loosen our grip—to trust that what falls away was never meant to imprison us. In that newly gained freedom, the soul discovers what it means to rest in God.

The Ripple Effect

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The spiritual awakening sends ripples through every facet of life. Relationships deepen, ordinary tasks take on new meaning, and a sense of well-being begins to infuse daily experience. This is what Jesus implied when he said, “Seek first the kingdom, and all these things shall be yours as well.” Spiritual realization is not an escape from life but a transformation of perception—life ceases to be a struggle for survival and becomes a creative partnership with the Divine.

Jesus understood how difficult this awakening can be. Knowing that few would find it, he emphasized the power of small shifts—a change of thought, a new perspective, a step toward trust. Even modest insights send ripples that expand into waves of transformation. His constant refrain—ask, seek, knock—reminds us that persistence is the key.

“You will know the truth, and the truth will make you free.” Freedom, he taught, begins with recognizing the inner source of strength and guidance. Those who depend solely on external rescue remain enslaved to circumstance. The miracle he offered was not spectacle but insight—a change of mind that releases spiritual energy into action.

His parables describe this process as gradual and organic: the seed becoming grain, the widow who refuses to lose heart, the field already white for harvest. The work is inner, yet its results appear outwardly as greater peace, clarity, and harmony.

Jesus’ teaching operates on several levels. On the surface, it speaks to the creative power of thought: thorns do not produce grapes. At a deeper level, it calls for direct awareness of the divine Presence within. Here prayer is not petition but realization—“on earth as it is in heaven.”

The Gospels suggest that many of his greatest works were unrecorded, rippling quietly through ordinary lives. The true miracle is not water turned to wine but fear turned to faith, resentment turned to love, struggle turned to peace. A single day lived free from anxiety may seem small, yet it embodies the essence of his promise: the kingdom of God unfolding in the midst of everyday life.

Calm Expectation: The Perpetual Prayer

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“According to your faith be it done unto you.” — Matthew 9:29

You have heard me say that faith is more than belief; it is expectation—a calm assurance that the cause we set in motion will bring a corresponding result. When we say, “I have faith in God,” we may unconsciously place the outcome beyond ourselves, waiting for divine involvement. But when we say, “I am working with divine law; therefore I expect results,” we recognize that we are participants in the process of creation.

We live in a universe of law. Every desire becomes a cause that must produce an effect. The clearer our cause, the clearer the result. If our desire is vague, our outcome will be blurred. Write your desire plainly. See it, feel it, give it form in thought. Then release it with calm expectation.

Know that you are working with law. With calm expectation of a corresponding result, you know that all necessary conditions will come about in proper order.

True faith does not strain. It does not plead or push. Like a seed planted in fertile soil, calm expectation knows that growth is already taking place. We do not dig up the seed each morning to check on its progress; we tend the soil and trust the process.

It is helpful to remember the phrase, “this or something better.” We often think we know exactly what form our good should take, but divine intelligence sees farther than we can. Many times, the “better” is not what we envisioned, yet it meets our deeper need.

Each morning, picture your desire fulfilled and give thanks that it is unfolding now. Each evening, rest in quiet gratitude that the same law continues its work through the night. Calm expectation is not idle waiting; it is faith at rest—an inward knowing that order is establishing itself.

Affirm often:

God, the living law within me, is now guiding me in all ways. Every step I take is the right step. I move through my life in confidence and peace.

This attitude keeps the heart open and joyful. In calm expectation, we cease striving and begin cooperating with the creative process of life itself.

Thank you, God, that this is so.

The Power of Silence

The Paradox of Power in Silence

It seems counterintuitive to associate power with silence. The squeaking wheel, after all, is the one that gets the grease. In the world of circumstance, there are moments when squeaking is necessary—when we must speak up, advocate, or act decisively. Yet the development of our spiritual awareness unfolds in an entirely different arena. Its work is done in stillness.

This “stillness” is not mere quiet. It is a shift of awareness—a turning from the restless surface of the mind toward the deeper current of life itself. The Psalmist’s invitation, “Be still, and know that I am God,” is not a command but an opening. It reminds us that knowing the Divine is not an act of intellect but of intuition. The Creative Life Force that sustains our being is ever present, but it works in silence, as a hidden, living fountain of energy.

The Restless Mind

Anyone who has ever tried to meditate knows how easily the mind resists stillness. We close our eyes intending to move into silence and find ourselves chasing thoughts, replaying conversations, or solving problems that do not need solving. Many of us have spent twenty minutes “worried with our eyes closed.”

This is the central challenge of entering the silence: learning to let go of thought patterns that have no real value. We are conditioned to stay on the mental treadmill, running hard but getting off exactly where we got on. What Jesus called “going into your inner room and shutting the door” is the act of stepping off that wheel—of releasing the outer noise to rediscover the quiet center that is always waiting.

When we touch that inner place, we emerge changed. We move into life with fresh enthusiasm and clearer vision. The external world has not altered, yet our relationship to it has. We respond from strength rather than react from fear.

Coming Home to the Center of Power

Silence is not escape from life; it is the re-entry point into our true home. In stillness we return to the center of our being, where all that is real abides. The “Father who sees in secret,” as Jesus said, rewards us openly—not with material prizes, but with the subtle grace of a life that begins to work.

Paradoxically, the time to be still often arrives when stillness seems impossible. We want to “do” something, to solve the upset that has thrown us off balance. Yet sitting quietly, releasing the urge to fix, is often the very thing that restores order. The silence re-centers us in the awareness that we are expressions of the Infinite—not isolated minds scrambling for control, but emanations of the same creative power that holds the stars in place.

The Modern Maze of Distraction

Technology has multiplied our distractions. We carry devices that promise connection but too often deepen our fragmentation. In earlier times, when the phone stayed in one place, we didn’t wonder where it was; now we feel uneasy if it’s not in reach. The more connected we become externally, the more disconnected we risk becoming internally.

This makes the commitment to silence more vital than ever. The silence is not opposed to life in the world; it is the grounding that makes life in the world manageable. It is where the noise of outer activity meets the still rhythm of the soul.

Experiencing, Not Thinking

The silence cannot be understood intellectually. It must be experienced. Reading inspirational books can be helpful, but reading about stillness is not the same as entering it. We may become addicted to uplifting words, returning to them like a pleasant habit, yet never touching the experience itself. The true invitation of “Be still and know” is to be still and know—to feel the reality of God, not merely to think about it.

This is not about solving problems. It is about solving the problem of the busy mind. When we drop beneath the whirl of thought, we encounter a different order of knowing—direct, wordless, whole.

Finding the Doorway of Receptivity

Emilie Cady likened the receptive attitude to a bird bathing in the sun. There is no effort, only openness. We do not make the light shine; we simply stop blocking it. Sitting quietly, we relax the body and center the mind. If thoughts drift, a simple affirmation such as “I am” can help restore focus.

Do not force anything. If the mind refuses to settle, get up and return later. The silence is never achieved through strain; it opens through willingness. The fruit of practice often comes in unexpected moments—a sudden wave of compassion, a surge of peace, a quiet joy that needs no reason. These are signs that the intuitive door is opening and the light of God is beginning to shine through.

The Inner Healing Flow

Myrtle Fillmore’s healing story beautifully illustrates the power of this inner awareness. When she heard the words, “You are a child of God; therefore, you cannot inherit sickness,” something awakened. She began to enter the silence daily, speaking gently to each part of her body, affirming that the life of God was active there. She wasn’t commanding healing—she was acknowledging a truth already in operation.

In the same way, when we quiet the mind and release stress, we cease interfering with the natural intelligence that sustains us. The body follows the mind’s lead: as thought becomes calm, the physical system relaxes, renews, and restores itself.

The Treasure Hidden in the Field

Jesus compared the kingdom of God to a treasure hidden in a field. The silence is that field. In discovering it, we “sell” everything we own—our stress-producing thoughts, our need to control, our limiting ideas—and trade them for the simple awareness of Presence. The intellect can grasp the logic of this; intuition alone can make it real.

This path does require discipline and commitment, not as burden but as devotion. We commit because we recognize the truth of what calls to us. If God is truly within, then the question becomes: How will I experience that?

The Direct Experience

Direct experience of the Divine is not reserved for saints or mystics. It is the birthright of every soul. Yet few seek it because they imagine it difficult or remote. In truth, it is closer than breath. We overlook it precisely because it is so near.

The spiritual life is not about becoming something we are not. It is about awakening to what we already are. As you sit in stillness, you may discover that the freedom you’ve been seeking was never absent—it was only veiled by thought.

To be still is to know. To know is to remember that the treasure you seek has always been within.

The Healing Method of Jesus

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Voice of the Mystic: Part 5

One outstanding feature of the ministry of Jesus was its healing aspect. “And many followed him, and he healed them all” (Matthew 12:15). While we’re given the impression that he healed by the hundreds, indications of the methods he used can give us some practical insight toward our own healing needs.

In some cases, he simply spoke the word of healing with such authority that the person responded. Healing affirmations grounded in the understanding that the soul is now whole, and this wholeness reflects in the body, can play an important role.

There were times when Jesus simply touched a person, or they touched him, and the healing occurred. In the case of a leper, this would be especially significant since it was believed that physical contact increased the chances of contracting the disease. This indicates that Jesus did not see disease as a power, but as an effect subject to the true power of God within.   

Maintaining a God consciousness through meditation and prayer was probably his greatest healing asset. He obviously had a first-hand awareness of God, which means he would see God in all people. Prayer was the calling forth of the God potential within those he encountered.

In many cases, he attributed the faith of the person healed as the true source of healing power. Faith is expectation. Those who shifted from doubt to high expectancy moved into the condition of wholeness.

Another interesting healing tool was that of the placebo, in his case, mud. Does mud have healing qualities? Probably not, but the belief that it does brought about change in some cases. Perhaps such an attitude can justify medications that help increase our faith.

A final healing element was the forgiveness of sin. Some who associated sin with disease were healed the moment they believed they were free from the scourge of sin. I think Jesus the soul as totally free of the consequence of sin. He was not forgiving sin. He recognized the person already free of sin.   

Any one of these healing elements may represent a tool we can apply to our own healing need.

The Moving Parts of Manifestation

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Voice of the Mystic: Part 4

“The kingdom of God is as if a man should scatter seed upon the ground, and should sleep and rise night and day, and the seed should sprout and grow, he knows not how. 28 The earth produces of itself, first the blade, then the ear, then the full grain in the ear.” Mark 4:26-28

In this parable of the sower, the man scatters seed, sleeps and rises as the mystery of germination begins. The earth then produces the result. Notice that even though each of these steps is presented sequentially, the intention is to call attention to the operational components within the single creative system.

Think of the running motor of a car. Many things are happening at the same time. Fuel ignites, pistons pump, oil lubricates, coolant circulates, oxygen is taken in, exhaust expelled. The running motor is not a future event; it is the present example of a perfectly orchestrated multitude of individual processes. 

In a similar way, Jesus is calling attention to the kingdom, not as a coming event, but as a present, dynamically responsive process. He does not bother to specify the type of seed planted because this universal, creative process will produce from any kind of seed. Neither does he associate the kingdom with the harvest. He is simply calling attention to the mechanics of the manifestation process. The kingdom functions like this entire assembly of components: the seed is being planted, the mystery of germination is taking place, a new crop is emerging. It’s happening now. What kinds of seeds are you planting?  

Unlike the running motor of a car, no one starts the manifestation process. It runs 24/7. The kind of crop we get depends on the kind of seed we plant. This is the heart of the lesson. The creative process is in full swing. How do we make sure we get the crop we want? We plant the seed of expectation. If you get up everyday thinking life is such a grind, you will not be disappointed. Life will give you what you expect. Brambles do not produce figs. If you begin lifting your expectations, planting new seeds open to greater possibility, this same natural creative process responds accordingly. The motor is running. The question now is this: Where do you want to go?  

Signals from Antiquity 2

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The wind blows where it wills, and you hear the sound of it, but you do not know whence it comes or whither it goes; so it is with every one who is born of the Spirit. 

The Greek word pneuma can reference the wind, spirit, or breath. Wind can be heard and felt but not seen. Spirit is understood as the animating force, the vital essence, the soul of all living beings. We cannot see it, but we see evidence of its presence in everything from the blade of grass to the human being. Each breath we take, also invisible, is vital to our physical existence. From this we get that spirit is unseen but felt.

The Hebrew Bible’s book of Job connects the innate wisdom of the soul to the breath of the Almighty. “It is the spirit in a man, the breath of the Almighty, that makes him understand.[1]

The main thing I get from this saying is that the full wisdom of God is present and working in and through me now. We do not have to know how the answer to our need will come about, we only need to know that the Father is working, and I work, and greater good is unfolding.

If I have told you earthly things and you do not believe, how can you believe if I tell you heavenly things? 

The parable employs the symbolism of earthly things to illustrate heavenly things. The notion of a new birth is lost on the intellectually trained Nicodemus. His education does not allow him to make the connection between the symbol and the spiritual abstraction behind the symbol, a problem Jesus also encountered with his disciples: 

13 And he said to them, “Do you not understand this parable? How then will you understand all the parables?[2]

What I want to make clear here too is that the Jesus sect was not pushing for a mystical approach to Judaism. They were pushing for a leadership that would blossom into the Christian orthodoxy we see today. As I’ve already discussed, I do not believe the early leaders of the Jesus movement and the more formal church that followed shared the mystically-based ideology.

No one has ascended into heaven but he who descended from heaven, [the Son of man].

How would this passage qualify as something a mystic would say?

The author of John or a later scribe includes the Son of man as an obvious reference to Jesus. Because the mystic would not bring attention to themselves, we shouldn’t think of this heavenly figure, he who descended from heaven, as a specific personality, but rather as a faculty of mind.

The material and spiritual realms, symbolized here by earth and heaven, are not two separate things, but two ways of expressing one thing, like steam and ice are the same water in two different states. The faculty of intuition is that which moves comfortably between these two realms. The intellect forms concepts about the spiritual domain, but only the intuition can move from the conceptual to the experiential level, or ascend into heaven.