#119: The Four Mighty Ones

The Four Mighty Ones

A Lecture in the Voice and Spirit of Neville Goddard

Man looks out upon his world and sees conditions that appear fixed and unyielding. He wonders why his days are as they are, why certain patterns repeat, why the evidence of his senses seems so stubborn and final. He does not know that there dwell within him four mighty ones whose joint action structures every experience that comes to him. These four are not four separate selves. They are four aspects of the one creative power that is his own awareness of being. They are the inner government that writes the play of his life and casts its shadow upon the screen of space. When he discovers them and lets them work consciously, he ceases to be the victim of conditions and becomes the author of his days.

The first of these mighty ones is he who suggests the theme. He moves in man as a wish, a desire, a feeling that something should be otherwise than it now appears. He is the producer who sets the entire drama in motion. Without his initial stir there would be no play, for he is the one who conceives what is to be expressed in the outer world. His language is simple: I wish I were this; I wish this were changed; I wish I knew the joy of that. He does not argue with the present fact. He simply feels the urge toward something greater, something more harmonious, something that satisfies the heart. This first mighty one is forever at work in every man, for man is a wishing being and cannot help but desire. Yet his work remains incomplete until the other three join him.

The second mighty one is the author who takes the general theme and makes it specific. He does not write the whole play. He writes only the last scene, and he writes it with such vividness and detail that it stands before the mind as a living picture. Where the first mighty one said, “I wish I were free,” the second says, “I am free, and here is the scene of my freedom.” He constructs in imagination the precise experience that would be his if the wish were already fulfilled. He sees the room, hears the voices, feels the touch of the thing desired. He does not hope that it will come to pass. He constructs the end as already true. This is the work of specification. Without it the theme remains vague and sleeps forever in the chambers of unborn desires. With it the wish is given a body of detail and becomes capable of performance.

The third mighty one is the director. His function is attention. He takes the scene that has been written and holds the mind steady upon it. When imagination wanders, as it so easily does, he brings it back to the script. He rehearses the scene over and over until the feeling of it becomes natural and easy. He does not force. He simply refuses to let the mind stray into the old, unwanted drama. His is the steady gaze, the controlled attention that keeps the dramatized vision alive in consciousness. Without him the beautiful scene written by the second mighty one would fade before it could be enacted. With him the vision is held until it sinks into the very substance of the soul. He is the one who makes the inner drama continuous rather than fitful.

The fourth mighty one is the actor. He is the one who actually performs the drama within himself. He does not merely look at the scene; he lives it. He walks in the feeling of the fulfilled desire until that feeling clothes itself in the tones of reality. It is said of him that his form is like the Son of God, for he is the human imagination in its active, creative power. He takes the script prepared by the author and the direction given by the director and makes it flesh. He feels the naturalness of the thing desired until it ceases to be a hope and becomes a present fact in consciousness. When he has done his work, the inner play is complete. The theme has been suggested, specified, held steady, and embodied. Then the curtain rises upon the outer world, and the shadow of this inner performance is cast upon the screen of space.

These four work as one. The producer suggests the theme, the author dramatizes it as fulfilled, the director holds attention upon it, and the actor enacts it until it lives. Their agreement is perfect, and what they agree upon must appear. You are told that two shall agree as touching anything and it shall be established on earth. Here four agree within the secret places of the soul, and their joint action is the law that structures experience. The world you see is not the cause of your condition. It is the optical construction, the shadow, cast by the play these four have already performed within you. All that you behold, though it appears without, is within, in your imagination, of which this world of mortality is but a shadow.

When these four are unknown to man, he suffers his play as though it were written by another. He looks upon his circumstances and believes they are independent of him. He blames the world, he blames other men, he blames chance or fate. He does not know that the men and women he meets and the events that surround him are players drawn into his drama because they are relevant to the theme he has dramatized within. They play their parts faithfully, believing they themselves initiate the action, yet it is the four mighty ones in him that have set the entire movement in motion. The world is not his enemy. It is his own inner performance made visible.

The river that went out of Eden to water the garden parted and became four heads. So does the creative power in you flow outward into expression through these four channels. They are the four faces, the four aspects of the one I AM. They correspond to the letters of the divine name that cannot be spoken but is lived whenever these four act in harmony. The first is the kingly power that conceives the theme. The second is the servant power that works it out in detail. The third is the attentive power that keeps the vision steady. The fourth is the divine power itself that enacts the drama and gives it body. Together they constitute the selfhood of man. They are not four gods. They are four functions of the one God who is your own awareness of being.

To become conscious of these four is to awaken from the dream of helplessness. You no longer cry out against conditions as though they were independent powers. You turn within and set these four to work upon a new and better play. You let the first stir in you a noble theme. You let the second specify its fulfillment in living detail. You let the third hold your attention upon that scene until it feels natural and easy. You let the fourth enact it until you walk in the very feeling of its reality. When this is done, you do not need to wonder how the outer change will come. You know that the shadow must conform to the substance. The world will draw to itself whatever is necessary to express the inner drama. Men and events will move to fulfill the play you have written, directed, and enacted within.

Many stop with the first mighty one. They wish and wish again, but never allow the second to specify the scene of fulfillment. Their desire remains a vague longing and never becomes a living picture. Others allow the second to write the scene but never call upon the third to hold attention steady. The vision rises for a moment and then fades into the old, unwanted drama. Still others reach the point of enactment but do so fitfully, without the steady direction that makes the performance continuous. Only when all four move as one does the inner drama become irresistible. Then the thing desired is not hoped for. It is already a fact in consciousness, and consciousness, being the only reality, must objectify it.

This is why you are told to believe that you receive when you pray. True prayer is the harmonious action of these four mighty ones. It is not a petition to a God outside yourself. It is the inner agreement in which the theme is suggested, the end is specified, attention is held, and the scene is enacted until it lives. When this agreement is reached, the father, who is your own awareness of being, rewards you openly. The outer world rises to meet the inner fact. There is no other way by which desire becomes deed. The four must work together, and they work within you.

The error of the world is the belief that the outer fact is the cause. Man sees himself as poor and believes the outer lack is the reason he remains poor. He does not know that the outer lack is the shadow of an inner drama in which these four have agreed upon poverty. Change the inner agreement and the shadow must change. There is no need to fight the outer fact. There is only need to let these four write, direct, and enact a new and better play. The first suggests the theme of freedom or abundance or health. The second constructs the scene of that freedom as already true. The third holds the mind upon that scene until it feels natural. The fourth walks in the feeling until it clothes itself in reality. Then the outer world, which is only the shadow, conforms.

You do not need to be a different man to do this. You need only to become conscious of the four mighty ones who already dwell in you. They are not far off. They are the very structure of your own mind. The wish that stirs in you is the first. The power to picture its fulfillment is the second. The power to hold attention upon that picture is the third. The power to feel it as real is the fourth. When you know this, you will no longer say, “I wish, but how?” You will say, “I wish, and these four within me will bring it to pass.” The how is not your concern. It is the concern of the creative power that knows ways you, as man, know not of.

All that appears without is a visual construction contrived to express a theme that has been dramatized, rehearsed, and performed within. The stage of the world is the screen upon which the inner play is cast. When you change the inner play, the screen must change. There is no other law. The four mighty ones are the only lawgivers of your experience. When you become conscious of them and let them work in harmony, you will look upon your world and know that it is the faithful expression of the drama you have enacted in the secret place of your soul. You will cease to blame and begin to create. You will cease to suffer your play and begin to write it consciously.

Tonight, as you enter the silence, let the first mighty one move in you. Feel the stir of a noble theme. Then let the second take that theme and write its fulfillment in detail. See the scene. Hear it. Touch it. Let it live before you as though it were already true. Then let the third hold your attention there. Whenever the mind wanders to the old drama, bring it gently back. Rehearse the scene until the feeling of it is natural and easy. Then let the fourth enact it. Walk in the feeling of the fulfilled desire until it clothes itself in the tones of reality. Do this without effort, without strain, without wondering how it will come to pass. Simply let these four do their perfect work within you.

When you rise from this inner action, go about your day in the consciousness that the play is written, directed, and enacted. You do not need to force the outer world. You do not need to argue with appearances. You have set the four mighty ones to work, and what they have agreed upon must objectify. The world may seem unchanged for a little while, but the shadow is already moving. In the days that follow, you will see men and events arrange themselves to express the inner drama. You will see the outer play conform to the inner one, and you will know that you are not a helpless spectator but the selfhood in whom these four dwell and operate.

This is the meaning of the four men who walked in the midst of the fire and the form of the fourth who was like the Son of God. The fire is the burning desire. The four who walk unhurt are the four mighty ones who, when they work in harmony, are not consumed by the flame but transform it. The fourth, whose form is like the Son of God, is the imagination that enacts the drama and delivers man from the furnace of his own unfulfilled desires. When you know this, you will no longer fear the fire of longing. You will call upon these four within you, and they will walk with you in the very flame and bring you out into the freedom you have dramatized.

You are told that the creature was made subject to vanity that he might become conscious of selfhood and its functions. The vanity is the belief that the outer world is the cause. The awakening is the discovery that these four mighty ones within you are the only cause. When this discovery is made, man ceases to execute judgment upon others and begins to rewrite his play. He realizes that all changes must come from the cooperation of these four within himself. They alone can alter the script. They alone can produce the change. And when they do, the outer world, which seemed so solid, yields and conforms.

Stand, then, in the consciousness of these four. Know that you are not one who wishes in vain. You are the one in whom the producer, the author, the director, and the actor dwell and work. Suggest your theme with feeling. Specify its fulfillment with vividness. Hold attention upon it with steadiness. Enact it with naturalness. And the world will rise to meet you, for it is only the shadow of the play these four have performed within the secret places of your soul. This is the law that cannot be broken. This is the power that is given to every man. And when you live it consciously, you will find that your experience is no longer a mystery but a faithful expression of the drama you have written, directed, and enacted through the four mighty ones who are your selfhood.