Follow the rainbow

It was a bright but rainy afternoon when I decided to take a stroll along the seafront near my home on the south coast of England. I had often found walking a useful time for engaging in deeper, prayerful thought, and on this occasion I had a decision to make. In a few weeks time, there would be a weekend event for young Christian Scientists in the north of the country. Should I go? Was it worth the effort? Did I have better things to be doing?

Now I realize that, in the grand scheme of things, this may not seem like a decision of earth-shattering importance. No doubt it pales in comparison to decisions about jobs, school, finances, or relationships. Nevertheless, I really wanted to do the right thing, since I was concerned that a poor decision could lead to some serious regrets. Perhaps my own human will, pride, or a sense of lack were obscuring the right answer. In any case, I could see I needed some inspiration to help lift the fog.

Happily, previous experiences had helped me see how divine wisdom and grace become apparent as I turn away from the human details, away from the pros and cons, and commit myself to hearing God’s direction. So often, I’ve found, my prayers help me to see something beyond just the answer to my questions. As my thoughts turn outward, decision-making becomes less me-centric and more God-centric.

So now, as I considered these questions prayerfully, my thoughts began to lift. And almost as though my whole being was following the direction of my thoughts, I found myself looking up. I couldn’t help but notice that the weather conditions were ideal for rainbows, and before I had walked very far, I found myself surrounded by the most extraordinary rainbow I’ve ever seen. It was a vivid, complete double arc, and it appeared to be no more than a few yards away. As I walked, it moved right along with me, as if it were specifically guiding me to continue in the direction I was headed—up to the high cliffs at the end of the coastal route.

Eventually the rainbow faded and disappeared, but as I reached the headland, I pondered whether there was a deeper meaning to this unusual sight. As I did, I recalled that I’d attended a summer camp the previous year, whose name, Arc-en-Ciel, means “rainbow” in French. And I remembered that at that camp there were some overseas visitors who had travelled a long way to attend. All of them had enriched the event through many selfless contributions.

Here my thoughts lifted even further. I began to see that I had been asking myself all the wrong questions. Instead of focusing on What will I gain from being there?, I realized that a far better question was: What could I contribute? Immediately, the weekend took on a new and higher purpose. I could go to give. I had something to share.

With that, it became immediately clear that it was right to go, and I called up one of the organizers on my cell phone. They still had a place available, and only a few weeks later I spent a very inspiring and productive weekend up north—making new friends, sharing ideas, and generally having fun.

In her book, Science and Health with Key to the Scriptures, Mary Baker Eddy discussed the “test of all prayer” and defined this “test” this way: “Do we love our neighbor better because of this asking?” ¹ I think that question can be applied to decision-making as well. I see now that following the rainbow that day was a metaphor for following God’s promise—a promise that I could make a choice based on what would give me the most opportunity to bless others. As a result, I was indeed blessed myself.

These days, whether I have a big decision to make, or a relatively little one, I find myself going back to that question. It’s my own sort of “test”—of my motives for asking the question, and the rightness of the path I’m being guided to follow. What will enable me to best help my fellow man? That “rainbow” is a sure guide in any decision we face.