Storm. Now, I will never forget Churchill’s resounding pronouncement, “…this is the
lesson: never give in, never give in, never, never, never, never—in nothing, great or
small, large or petty—never give in except to convictions of honor and good sense.”
Churchill was speaking to his compatriots both at home and at battlefronts on foreign
shores. London was being bombed by the Nazis and thousands of the British were killed
or wounded, thousands more suffered from food rationing, loss of significant income, and
unremitting worry over how they could survive one more day. How is it possible to not
be deeply affected by Churchill’s words that reminded them of the inner strength,
optimism and perseverance that comes from their faith in a Higher Power?
Never give in. As a Science of Mind practitioner, I have worked with many over the
past decades who needed this reminder during their own moments of faltering faith,
moments that required hard decisions. Some faced life and death situations not unlike
those who still experience the traumas of war. Some were in the throes of a life-
threatening illness, loss of job, failure of a marriage, or financial ruin. Some dealt with
rejection, loneliness, or the inability to end their own addiction to a substance that could
temporarily soothe the agony that crippled their will to live joyously.
Never give in. Never give up. Not for any reason.
I have already recounted a few of my personal trials and a few of the distractions that
worked continuously on my willpower to put me off course; but, on contemplation now, I
know none of them compare to those of the millions who suffer paralysis or the
amputation of limbs or who have daily travails that originate from a lifetime of poverty,
starvation, persecution, oppression or torture. When their mental anguish seems far worse
than the physical crisis, too many of these tortured souls resort to the abusive use of
drugs, alcohol or overeating, purposeful starvation, cutting, or even suicide. I can
compare the overpowering need to deaden the mental pain even for an hour.
Sugar-filled carbohydrates. That was my substance abuse. At the time of every
personal distress—each of which seemed serious and insurmountable to me—I gorged
and piled on the pounds. Just as the millions of Americans and British needed a reminder
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from their leaders of the critical importance of a deep and abiding faith during the war
years, I learned how to seek Divine wisdom to conquer the reason for my mental anguish.
I couldn’t do it on my own. I needed help. Only when I experienced the profound effect
prayer and faith had on my future, and subsequently on the futures of those closest to me,
did I find my way out of the pity pit. Pity is a strong word and many readers are likely to
protest.
Think about it. If we hate the way we
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