Author: Jason Zahariades

Living as the image of God is what it means to be truly human. We were created in the image of God and it has always been God’s intention that humanity would mature into the fullness of this image, which is fully embodied and demonstrated by Christ.

While this intention might seem impossible, we are never called to live like anything else. Our attempts to live as something else is the core of our corruption and distortion. Therefore, our healing and renewal, along with the entirety of creation, occurs as we relearn how to live as God’s image during the course of our normal daily lives.

The question that looms before us is “How do we do this?” After almost 25 years as a Christian, I am convinced that the Orthodox Church possesses both the fullest theological paradigm and practical process for learning how to incarnate Christ’s life and presence on earth.

This is why I resonate so much with a quote from Met Jonah that I recently posted. The primary reason for my joining the Orthodox Church is because I believe it is the Way to Christ’s likeness. And while I believe the Orthodox Church is the historical and apostolic church, for me that matters only in that it has helped the Orthodox Church to preserve the Way through the centuries.

A recent post by Fr Gregory Jensen has further stimulated my personal reflections. He succinctly summarizes his reflections about the future of Orthodoxy in America:

“Objective teaching about the Gospel, the Church’s worship (especially the Eucharist), and the human heart, all converge in Jesus Christ and the fruit of that encounter is the desire to evangelize, to bear witness to what we know personally. All four of these elements must be present. Where I suspect we have gone wrong is to neglect the formation of the human heart.”

I love Orthodoxy and all of its beauty. I love its history, its theology, its liturgy and its sacraments. Sure there are still points of contention that arise when my past Evangelical Protestant theology, practices and values are confronted with those of Orthodoxy’s. But I’m at home in Orthodoxy, even if my new home still stirs feelings of culture shock and homesickness now and then.

This is why I was thrilled to come across an essay by Met Jonah through Fr Stephen’s blog. The essay is entitled, “Do Not Resent, Do Not React, Keep Inner Stillness.” For me, this essay was a reminder and a refocus. It encapsulates the trajectory of my Christian life just prior to leaving professional ministry and my journey ever since. I still believe that as human beings created in God’s image, we are to join God in his mission to nurture and renew humanity and creation toward the fulfillment of his intentions. For me, this is what the last line of the Creed conveys, “I look for the resurrection of the dead and the Life of the world to come.” This line is not conveying a passive waiting, but an active anticipation as we lean into and live toward that future based on everything the Creed has previously affirmed.

So we live into God’s future, actively participating in God’s mission toward that future primarily by learning to be and live as God’s image. In so doing, we experience the healing and restoration of our human nature from which true embodied and everlasting love and goodness flow.

If you’re interested, you can also hear an hour-long lecture of the same material by Met Jonah on Ancient Faith Radio, entitled “The Spiritual Process.”

And if you’re interested in going a even further, there is also a five-part lecture series on the Met Jonah’s material at Icon New Media Network:

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, & Part 5

Sometimes I think my blog is simply a pointer to Fr Stephen Freeman’s blog. And that isn’t really such a bad thing since virtually all of his posts are “must -reads.” This one in particular is a great example. It’s a wonderful reminder of the daily journey toward our salvation and how that journey actually occurs. Please take a moment and read his post.

Last night was a terribly sad night. I found out that a friend, whom I haven’t seen in several years, died of Leukemia. From what I understand, he fought well and graciously. Yet, in the end, he leaves behind a wife and two kids to grieve and to journey through this earthly life without him. My friend was a caring, intelligent and worshipful man and he will be missed.

News of his death came via email as I was walking out of Vespers already filled with sadness as my two youngest children made their confessions in preparation for the Feast of the Nativity. The Sacrament of Repentance is a somber moment for me and it’s magnified when my children experience it. I’m not naive about my children’s sinfulness. I know intellectually and experientially that they are distorted and corrupted by sin. Yet as their father, it breaks my heart knowing their lives will be filled with the brokenness and agony of sin. As they journey through life, they will experience the regrets and results of their own destructive actions, words and thoughts. And while I can coach and nurture them, they will still bear the scars of death and sin.

Held within a vacuum, my friend’s death and my children’s (and my own) sins can easily yield to hopelessness. But we don’t live in a vacuum. In fact, these events converge while the Feast of the Nativity looms ever closer and the words of the Apolytikon of the Forefeast of the Nativity, which we sang all weekend, continue to resound in my thoughts:

Be thou ready, O Bethlehem; for Eden hath been opened for all. Prepare, O Ephratha; for the Tree of life hath blossomed forth in the cave from the Virgin; for her belly did appear as a noetic paradise in which is planted the divine Plant, whereof eating we shall live and not die as Adam. Verily, Christ shall be born, raising the likeness that fell of old.

I love the imagery of this hymn! The Tree of Life, which became inaccessible after the Fall, is again available to all. And this Tree has blossomed in the most unlikely place — from the womb of a young virgin in a smelly cave in Bethlehem. As we feast on this divine Plant, which is Christ, the effects of the Fall are reversed and death gives way to Life.

This is the vivid Reality in which death and sin are experienced. The final Word belongs to Life. “Verily, Christ shall be born, raising the likeness that fell of old.” We aren’t simply given a status of “righteousness” as though painted with a thin coat of whitewash. Rather, our very nature is reconstituted within the life and likeness of Christ. As St Paul states, “So if anyone is in Christ, New Creation!”

I absolutely love that! As we live in Christ, feasting upon him, who is the Tree of Life, we are being recreated into the human versions of God’s New Creation. And we confidently know that the One who began this good work of re-creation in us will bring it to completion until the Day of Christ Jesus (Phil 1:6). God became man so that man might become god.

This truth doesn’t diminish or assuage the grief and loss of my friend’s death nor of our own experiences of sin. In fact, death is currently allowed to coexist with Life. (Remember, even Christ’s birth was accompanied by Herod’s horrific murder of children.) But this truth does lift our sight, reminding us that there is exceedingly more beyond death and sin. And though it may be through tears and pain, we can join St Paul in proclaiming, “Death has been swallowed up in victory. ‘Where, O death, is your victory? Where, O death, is your sting?’”

I had heard the following quote in the recording of the lecture by Met Jonah. But I was reminded of it when I visited Steve Robinson’s blog. This is a great quote to use in a catechumen class. But it’s also a great reminder for the recently converted. I’m quickly approaching the one-year mark of my conversion and this quote is a very timely reminder of why I chose to become an Orthodox Christian.

“This process of becoming Orthodox is not something that you can do just after 6 months of catechesis and a little bit of chrism on your forehead. It’s a life-long process, because it’s being transformed into Christ. And if we can keep our focus that coming into the Orthodox Church is not about joining a new organization; it’s not joining ‘the right church’; it’s not ‘joining the historical church or the apostolic church’; or it’s not ‘joining the right church instead the wrong church that I was in.’

“But rather, it’s an entrance deeper and deeper into the mystery of Christ. Then I think we’re on the right track. Because otherwise all we’re doing is getting stuck in our heads and caught up in judgment and condemnation. In other words, we’re just stuck in our passions and we might as well have not converted anyway, because we still haven’t left the world behind.

“Our task is to incarnate that life in Christ that is not of this world. We have to be in the world, but not of it.”

I believe Met Jonah is absolutely correct. Joining the Orthodox Church is not simply about finding and joining “the right church,” “the true church,” or “the historical church.” At its core, my decision to join Orthodoxy was about its vibrant fullness of the Christian faith that will ultimately enable me and others to incarnate Christ’s life in this world. I must not lose sight of this vision.

I came across a wonderful quote by St Theophan the Recluse. It provides a constant reminder of my inward condition. As one who enjoys theologizing and writing, I must be ever-aware that my words and thoughts easily evaporate into nothing. He says:

Most people are like a shaving of wood which is curled round its central emptiness.

Three years ago today, I had one of the most meaningful and fulfilling experiences as a father — I performed my kids’ baptism.

The baptism took place at the Live Oak Vineyard, where we had been attending for awhile. I want to thank Pastor Steve and Pastor Floyd again for letting this ex-pastor have one last “pastoral fling” and baptize his children.

I wrote about the experience HERE. I also posted a video of the baptism HERE.

Little did I know that our spiritual journey as a family would soon take us around a corner and into the Orthodox Church.

As I mentioned in my original post about my children’s baptism, the event is a powerful reminder to me that my children belong to Christ first and foremost. He will always be with them, even when I cannot.

And the event is also a reminder that my children are part of Christ’s Church. I am moved during Divine Liturgy when I watch my kids receive the Eucharist. I am thrilled by the knowledge that they will grow up in the fullness of Christ’s life that resides in the Orthodox Church.

There is a beautiful prayer in the Orthodox Prayer Book that I use when I pray for my kids. It summarizes their baptism and everything I could desire for them as their father:

O God, our heavenly Father, Who lovest mankind, and art most merciful and compassionate, have mercy upon our children, Thy servants, for whom I humbly pray Thee, and commend them to Thy gracious protection. Be Thou, O God, their guide and guardian in all their endeavors; lead them in the path of Thy truth, and draw them near to Thee, that they may lead a godly and righteous life in Thy love and fear; doing Thy will in all matters. Give them grace that they may be temperate, industrious, diligent, devout and charitable. Defend them against the assaults of the enemy, and grant them wisdom and strength to resist all temptation and corruption of this life; and direct them in the way of salvation, for the merits of Thy Son, our Savior Jesus Christ, and the intercessions of His Holy Mother, and Thy blessed saints. Amen.

In many Christian circles, the word “tradition” can evoke negative images. We might think of church board meetings where someone ultimately raises the argument, “But we’ve always done it this way.” We rarely think of tradition as something fresh and relevant for now. However, Fr Ted Bobosch does. And I agree wholeheartedly with him:

Tradition, like Scripture, is not  made holy by being carved into stone, but rather by being interpreted within a community, by being the heart of the community’s relationship to God and the world.  Tradition is thus alive and constantly relating to the world, not written in stone and frozen in some past understanding.  For St. Paul, Tradition is dynamic, creative, vivifying and renewing and keeps people focused on the goal – where God is leading us to, not the past and where we were.   Tradition is not the ship’s anchor, but its sail.   It consists not of repeating past teachings, but of interpreting God’s Word for the current generation.

Fr Ted then offers a lengthy quote by Sylvia C. Keesmaat that is worth reading. Bottom-line, Tradition sets our trajectory into the future. And “what gives a tradition its life is an effective interpretation for a new time and context.” This is worth some serious reflection.

Debbie posted a comment with some good questions in my previous post that I wanted to address. Since, I knew my response would be lengthy, I chose to respond in a new post rather than in the comments. Also, I may not be the most reliable person to answer these questions. This is simply my personal opinion and everyone is welcome to disagree.

Fr Stephen Freeman has a great often-repeated quote, “Jesus did not die in order to make bad men good – He died to make dead men live.” In this statement, Fr Stephen touches upon the real issue of our sin and distortion. Spiritual death — sin, corruption and death — is the devastating result of humanity’s rebellion and separation from God. All of humanity and creation have become broken and distorted. A destructive disharmony exists between humanity and God, between humans themselves and between humanity and creation.

The primary issue is our estrangement from God and its subsequent spiritual death. We are separated from the very Source of Life and therefore our very nature as human beings has become corrupted.

Therefore, our salvation is the renewal of the image of God in us through restored communion with God. Jesus is our Savior because he first vanquishes the death and corruption that enslaves all creation at the cosmic level and then invites us to appropriate this reality at a personal level through a cooperative life with God that restores communion with God.

This cooperative life with God is described in various ways in the New Testament. Jesus described it as denying yourself and taking up your cross. St Peter called it “participating in the divine nature.” St Paul described it as taking off the old self with its practices and putting on the new self which is being renewed in the image of its creator. He described it in another place as offering our bodies to God as a living sacrifice by not being conformed to the pattern of this broken world and by being transformed through the renewal of our mind.

In other words, the key to salvation or transformation is a life immersed in God’s grace that progressively discards our old nature and acquires the new nature, which Christ fully embodied. In Orthodox theology, we call this theosis. Here’s a definition from Orthodoxwiki:

Theosis (“deification,” “divinization”) is the process of a worshiper becoming free of hamartía (“missing the mark”), being united with God, beginning in this life and later consummated in bodily resurrection. For Orthodox Christians, Théōsis (see 2 Pet. 1:4) is salvation. Théōsis assumes that humans from the beginning are made to share in the Life or Nature of the all-Holy Trinity. Therefore, an infant or an adult worshiper is saved from the state of unholiness (hamartía — which is not to be confused with hamártēma “sin”) for participation in the Life (zōé, not simply bíos) of the Trinity — which is everlasting.

Theosis is a divinely empowered transformation of our nature through participating in the Life of God.

So what does this look like in daily practice? Moving further from theology and closer to practice, it is a life consisting of two simultaneous dimensions — an ascetical dimension and a sacramental dimension — both lived out within the overall life of the Church.

The ascetical dimension is struggling against our passions (our evil and distorted desires) with God’s grace. This is much more than behavioral modification, as important as that may be. For example, in 1Corinthians 13, we read St Paul describing love as not being easily angered. And so, many people expend a lot of energy not displaying anger even though they may be seething internally. That is not love. St Paul is not making a list of proper Christian behavior nor a description of how to act lovingly. Rather, he’s painting a portrait of what divine love looks like in human form when a person is genuinely transformed into the very love that God is. And that can only occur with God’s divine power.

So the ascetical dimension is a life of fighting and struggling as we baby-step our passions into proper order. This is practiced in cooperation with God’s grace and preferably under the direction of a wise spiritual father and within the collective wisdom of the Church. This is why fasting is a primary and almost universal ascetical practice within the Church. It is a practice that Jesus taught and that the Church has honed through the centuries. So we infuse our lives with this discipline and these small steps, when practiced wisely, help us struggle against our distorted wills in God’s grace.

Certainly, other practices may help. Regulating what we take in through our eyes and ears can be helpful, especially depending on what God is doing in our lives. But there are a couple things to remember as we engage in the ascetical life. First, we must remember that such practices don’t make a person a “good” or a “bad” Christian. We should never judge ourselves or others based on our successes or failures in these practices. Second, we can actually hinder God’s work in us by unwisely embracing practices that God hasn’t given to us. We can easily be crushed by joyless misery or swell with pride at our accomplishments. This is why the advice of a spiritual father and the collective wisdom of the Church is highly recommended.

The sacramental dimension is the mystical participation in divine grace. As Orthodox Christians, we have very specific Sacraments or Mysteries in which we participate in the life and grace of God. These specific moments, and in a more generic way all aspects of life, draw us into koinonia (participation in and shared lives) with God. Our lives are transformed into the likeness of Christ by the energies of God.

Like the ascetical life, there are a few important matters worth remembering. First, we must remember that transformation is a slow lifelong process. It is neither instantaneous nor experienced in great leaps and bounds. It will only be consummated in the New Creation. Second, the natural byproduct of transformation will be the dispassion of perfected love of God and others, not just modified behavior. Our distorted passions will be ordered and aligned with our healed will and soul. Third, we are not the ones who are overcoming our own sins. There is not a direct one-to-one correlation between the amount of our participation in the ascetical and sacramental life and our personal transformation. Only God transforms us. St Macarius wrote:

To uproot sin and the evil that is so imbedded in our sinning can be done only by divine power, for it is impossible and outside man’s competence to uproot sin. To struggle, yes, to continue to fight, to inflict blows, and to receive setbacks is in your power. To uproot, however, belongs to God alone. If you could have done it on your own, what would have been the need for the coming of the Lord?

Debbie voiced a desire that I believe many people share, “I want to see that kind of humanity [as embodied in Jesus] lived out.” But we must be very careful neither to shape that vision in our own image nor hold unattainable expectations for ourselves and others. Our eyes must always be turned inwardly to the kingdom of God within and not toward judging the success of others nor what we hope others may see in us.

In regard to training our children, we must help them live within the ascetical and sacramental life of the Church. We must also help them live within the world while simultaneously guarding their hearts from the influence of the broken world. Here is some instruction from St Basil:

Young people must be made to distinguish between helpful and injurious knowledge, keeping clearly in mind the Christian’s purpose in life. So, like the athlete or the musician, they must bend every energy to one task, the winning of the heavenly crown.

This includes helping our children (and ourselves) to form proper thinking, feeling, acting and relating through instruction, encouragement, prohibitions and boundaries. This isn’t legalistic as long as obedience or disobedience to all of this is not associated with being either a “good” or “bad” Christian or as somehow altering God’s love for us.

Again, I need to repeat that the primary issue in all of us, parents and children alike, is separation from God and the resultant spiritual death. So, the primary focus is always restored communion with God as we discussed above. And our role as parents is to make that available to our children, model it for them, encourage them to enter and pray, pray, pray for them.

Again, all of this is opinion and is subject to correction and change.

I would wager that most Christians easily associate Christ’s Incarnation with humanity’s need for salvation. It’s popularly recited, “God became man in order to save us.” In fact, I would even go further and wager that most Christians believe our need for salvation compelled God to become man. I’ve lost count of how many “gospel presentations” I’ve heard stating that God’s only course of action was to become human and rescue us. And I’ve heard the Incarnation reduced even further to such statements as “God became human just so that he could die for us.”

While such a statement contains a modicum of truth, I believe it misses the amazing truth of how our salvation is contained within Christ’s Incarnation. Certainly God became human to save us. And he saves us by becoming like us — the Word of God took on human nature so that we humans might participate in his divine nature (2 Pet 1:4). Or to quote St Athanasius once again, “God became man so that man might become god.” In other words, our salvation isn’t simply found in the several hours of Jesus dying on the cross. Rather, our salvation is found in the entire event of the Incarnation — from Gabriel’s pronouncement, through conception, pregnancy, and birth, through Christ’s entire life, through his crucifixion and resurrection and even beyond.

Because through the Incarnation, we discover the amazing reality of “God with us.” That is our salvation.

Our salvation is communion with God, who has taken on our nature and dwells with us. We have koinonia with him, which means we share our lives with him; we participate in him and he in us. And in that sharing of lives, we are being transformed into the likeness of Christ, who is not only the genuine image of God, but also the genuine image of humanity. Jesus wasn’t just God in a shell of human skin and flesh. He was fully God and fully human. And in the fullness of his humanity, Christ embodies the kind of humanity into which we are being saved.

So, through Jesus — the Word and Image of God incarnate — God is recreating and renewing his image within humanity. Yet this renewal requires the vanquishing of the death and corruption that continues to distort the image of God in us. Death and corruption must first be vanquished at a cosmic level, accomplished through Jesus’ crucifixion. That’s why we sing at Pascha:

“Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death. And upon those in the tomb, bestowing life.”

But the death and corruption that finds residence in our lives also must be expunged at a practical level. Christ died on a cross not so we could avoid one, but so we could take up one ourselves. The New Testament documents are replete with pastoral exhortations to mortify whatever belongs to the old nature and to begin practicing by grace that which belongs to the new nature, the renewed image of God as embodied in Christ. So in practice, communion with God requires both an ascetical side of dying to self and a sacramental side of participating in the divine grace. Through this process we work out our salvation and become by grace what God is by nature.

Spurred on by St Athanasius’ quote that I highlighted in my previous post, I have been reflecting on the Incarnation. I’m once again astonished at the magnitude of God’s work through Christ. It’s in that startling and mysterious event when God became man and heaven and earth uniquely merged that we find a realigning of humankind’s and creation’s conjoined trajectory toward salvation and restoration.

Truly, we discover our salvation in the Incarnation of the Word of God. As St Athanasius states, “He, indeed, assumed humanity that we might become god.” The Incarnation is intimately connected with the Image of God. We are being saved as we are reimaged into God. Our salvation is a forward movement in that we are not being saved backward into the original image of God that we find in the opening chapters of Genesis. Rather, we are being saved forward into the full maturity of the image of God as embodied in Jesus, the genuine human being.

And as the image of God that is depicted in Genesis was expressed through the proper stewardship of creation, the fullness of this image, as embodied in Christ and to which we ourselves are being saved, is expressed through a restorative and transformative stewardship of creation. We see this subtly demonstrated in the Eucharist.

During the Divine Liturgy, as we move closer to the Eucharist, the priest states, “Thine own of thine own we offer unto thee, in behalf of all, and for all.” Our offering experiences a threefold movement. First, our offering is given to us by God. God gives us wheat and grapes from the ground. He is the Treasury of good things and Giver of Life and we gratefully receive his benefaction. Second, our offering is the work of our hands as we present to him not wheat and grapes, but bread and wine. We do not simply offer back the raw fruits of the ground. As creation’s stewards, we cultivate, transform and return God’s gifts, mingled with our creativity and labor. Third, our offering is then transformed by God into his very presence and life — the actual Body and Blood of Christ — of which we then partake and carry into the world. In this way, heaven and earth merge in accordance with God’s original design.

Frankly, God could have skipped us in the process. Yet it has always been his intention that heaven and earth intersect through our creative cooperation with his will. We reflect his image into creation through our stewardship. We impart his life as we live in him, the Source and Giver of Life.

Simply put, as goes humanity, so goes creation. As humanity finds life in God, so creation finds life in God. As humanity fell and became distorted, so creation fell and became distorted. As humanity is rescued back into the life of God, so creation is rescued back into the life of God. In Christ’s Incarnation, God’s life fills human life. Then through human life, God’s life seeps into all of creation, reclaiming, reconciling and renewing every bit of space, time and matter from its destructive trajectory and resetting creation’s course toward the future God intended.

The threefold movement of the Eucharist forms a paradigm of our stewardship in the world as we are being saved and formed into the image of Christ. God graciously gives to us. We thankfully receive his gift, creatively and cooperatively develop it, and then humbly offer our work back to God. God then fills our offering with his very presence, transforming it even further so that it becomes a source of his life to us and to the world. This sacramental paradigm applies to all of the various areas and intricacies of daily life. In this way, we are the Body of Christ, his ongoing incarnation within creation.

A recent email conversation ignited within me a renewed interest in the Incarnation. Over the years, the elements of the Incarnation, much like the Image of God, have shaped large portions of my theological landscape.

Yesterday, I finished St Athanasius’, On the Incarnation. One line toward the end just about took my breath away:

In short, such and so many are the Savior’s achievements that follow from His Incarnation, that to try to number them is like gazing at the open sea and trying to count the waves.

That’s exactly what I’ve thought about the Incarnation. The Reality of the Incarnation is like a massive sea, mysterious and frightening, yet captivating and alluring. God takes on our humanity so that we might become god. Can you feel the splash of the mighty waves upon your face?

The repercussions of the Incarnation are like seismic vibrations rumbling through the bedrock of our very human nature as well as through all of creation. Creator God has become a human being and entered into the very time and space that he created in order to reclaim, reconcile and renew every bit of it back to himself. Can you feel the resonating tremors throb through your being?

I have been enamored with the theology of “the image of God” for the last several years. I am convinced this reality is key to not only understanding our purpose and destiny as human beings, but also to understanding and living more fully our identity in Christ. Fr Stephen’s post is a wonderful summary of the theology of the image. Here are a couple of highlight paragraphs:

“For St. Paul, Adam’s creation in the “image and likeness” of God is fulfilled in Christ. “The first man [Adam] is of the earth (in Hebrew, “of the earth” would be Adamah). “The second man [Christ] is of heaven” (1 Corinthians 15:47 ). It is this re-reading of Genesis that allows St. Paul to say that “just as we have borne the image of the man of dust, we shall also bear the image of the man of heaven.” The Genesis story of Adam is a prefiguring of Christ – in St. Paul the final meaning of Genesis is to be found in its fulfillment in Christ. The Second Adam (one of Paul’s names for Christ) is the true image and likeness of the Father – an image and likeness never fulfilled by the First Adam. Salvation in Christ is a “new creation” for St. Paul – in it, those who are saved are re-created and “conformed to the image” of Christ. Salvation as “conformity to the image” is clearly an important understanding for St. Paul – but sadly neglected by many Christians.”

“Christ is the true image of the invisible God – the God/Man who makes visible and tangible to us the God Whom we could not otherwise know. He is the Second Adam, the true image to which we shall be conformed. Apart from Christ, man lives in the image of the man of earth, the First Adam, and fails to live according to the likeness of God. In Christ, God makes us to become what we were always intended to become – the image and likeness of God.”

As a new Orthodox Christian, I have to admit that one of the most difficult things I’ve been learning to do is pray. This might sound strange coming from a Christian of over 20 years and from a professional pastor of 14 years. But it’s true. Becoming an Orthodox Christian doesn’t simply mean joining “another” Christian church. At the risk of sounding a bit melodramatic, becoming an Orthodox Christian means embracing a completely different Christian worldview. Believe me, the differences between Orthodoxy and Protestant Evangelicalism run far deeper than what one may see on the surface. But that topic will have to wait for future posts.

Because Orthodoxy is so different that Evangelicalism, my family and I are relearning how to pray. I remember theologian Gordon Fee once stating, “I can tell what a person actually believes by what they pray and what they sing.” That statement contains a lot of truth. As I have journeyed further into Orthodoxy, I’ve realized that what I used to pray for and how I used to pray as an Evangelical revealed some very faulty theology on my part.

One piece of advice Fr Patrick gave my family and me as young Orthodox Christians is to only pray using the Orthodox prayer book in order to relearn how to pray. He told us that we need to learn how to pray with the Church. Over the centuries, the Orthodox Church has learned how to pray so that their theology and practice are completely aligned. So, part of the life of Christ available in the Orthodox Church is learning to pray with the Church.

Using prayers written by someone else was almost scandalous to me as an Evangelical. In my old worldview, prayer was relational and relationships were spontaneous. Therefore, I had been taught to “pray from the heart” and to “talk to God like I would anyone else.” And while there is something valuable with this instruction, if I were to be honest, spontaneous prayer eventually devolved into something “less than” spontaneous. For example, prayers before meals and prayers for common requests eventually took on a rote nature. In effect, my prayer life was being formed by collecting and using “spiritually sounding” prayers that others had prayed or that I had prayed myself.

Now as an Orthodox Christian, I am truly appreciating written prayers. My mind and heart are being reformed (and hopefully transformed) by the prayers of men and women far more spiritual, intelligent and holier than me. Not only am I relearning sound theology as I pray, but I’m peering ever deeper into God’s mind and heart as I pray the prayers of those who have been immersed far deeper in God’s mind and heart than me. These prayers are helping me to find words to express myself to God, words that I would never have found even on a really good day.

So with that lengthy introduction, I wanted to say that I was pleased when I found a prayer by Fr Sophrony on Fr Stephen Freeman’s blog this morning. There is such spiritual depth and beauty to this prayer. This is one prayer that I will be praying over and over and hope to eventually incarnate over time.

O Eternal Lord and Creator of all things, in your inscrutable goodness you have called me into this life and have given me the grace of baptism and the seal of the gift of the Holy Spirit.  You have instilled in me the desire to seek your face.  Hear my prayer!

I have no life, no light, no joy, no strength, no wisdom without you, O God.   Because of my unrighteousness, I dare not lift my eyes in your presence.  But I obey you who said:

Therefore I tell you, whatever you ask in prayer, believe that you have received it, and it will be yours.  (Mark 11)

Truly, truly I say to you, if you ask anything of the Father He will give it to you in my name.   Until now you have asked nothing in my name.  Ask, and you will receive, that your joy may be full.  (John 16)

Therefore I now dare to approach you.  Purify me from all stain of flesh and spirit.  Teach me to pray rightly.  Bless this day which you give to me, your unworthy servant.

By the power of your blessing enable me at all times to speak and to act with a pure spirit to your glory;  with faith, hope and love, humility, patience, gentleness, peace, purity, simplicity, sobriety, courage and wisdom.  Let me always be aware of your presence.

In your boundless goodness, O Lord God, show me your will and grant me to walk in your sight without sin.

O Lord, unto whom all hearts are open, you know what I need and what is necessary for me.  You know my blindness and my ignorance.  You know my infirmity and corruption.  My pain and anguish are not hidden from you.  Therefore I beg you:  Hear my prayer and teach me by the power of your Holy Spirit the way in which I should walk.  And when my perverted will leads me otherwise, O Lord, do not spare me, but force me back to your way.

Grant me, Lord, to hold fast to what is good by the power of your love.  Preserve me from every word and act which corrupts the soul, and from every impulse that is unpleasing in your sight and harmful to the people around me.  Teach me what I should say and how I should speak.  If it be your holy will that I be quiet and make no answer, inspire me to be silent in a peaceful spirit that causes neither harm nor hurt to my fellow human beings.

Establish me in the path of your commandments, and until my last breath do not let me stray from the light of your ordinances.  May your commandments be the sole law of my being in this life and for all eternity.

O Lord, I pray to you:  Have mercy on me.  Spare me in my affliction and misery and hide not the way of salvation from me.

In my foolishness, O God, I plead with you for many and great things.  Yet I am ever mindful of my wickedness, my baseness, my vileness.  Have pity on me!  Cast me not away from your presence because of my foolish presumption.  Increase rather in me the right presumption of your grace and grant that I, the worst of people, may love you with all my mind, all my heart, all my soul and all my strength, as you have commanded.

By your Holy Spirit, Lord, teach me good judgment and sound knowledge.  Let me know the truth before I die.  Maintain my life in this world until the end that I may offer worthy repentance.  Do not take me away while my mind is still blind and bound by darkness.  When you are pleased to end my life, give me warning that I may prepare my soul to come before you.  Be with me, Lord, at that awesome hour and assure me by your grace of the joy of my salvation.

Cleanse me from secret faults.  Purify me from hidden iniquities.  Give me a good answer at your dread judgment seat.

Lord of great mercy and measureless love for all people:  Hear my prayer!  Amen.

(With editing by Fr. Thomas Hopko)

I had a wonderful meeting with Fr Patrick yesterday afternoon. I cannot adequately express my joy at having a spiritual father whom I consider both wise and safe. In addition, I never feel I’m receiving spiritual advice that has not first been hammered out in his own life. Fr Patrick is a trustworthy fellow sojourner on the path to salvation and life in Christ.

Yesterday, he reminded me of a very simple truth that has been resonating in my mind all night and morning. He said that the place of personal transfiguration is where God’s divine energies and our personal repentance meet. This “equation” for spiritual formation is neither a magical formula nor an instantaneous event. It requires both the discipline of an ascetic life and an abundance of time as we cooperate with God’s grace. But this simple equation basically summarizes the life of the Orthodox Church. The life of the Church through its Scriptures, services, sacraments and stories of the saints, is aimed at helping us by both developing personal repentance and exposing us to God’s divine energies.

I’m particularly captivated with Orthodoxy’s focus on repentance. Frankly, constantly hearing about repentance when we first began attending the Orthodox Church rubbed me the wrong way. Repentance is not a popular concept in American Christianity. It’s often associated with the “Woe-is-me-Beat-myself-up” mentality of abusive and destructive religion. It took some time for me to purge that image out of my head.

But that’s not repentance at all. Repentance literally means “to change one’s mind.” It’s used during the New Testament time in a similar way as our modern phrase, “Think about it.” To repent is to hear an alternative to one’s agenda or course of action, to carefully weigh the consequences of both, and ultimately to recognize the wisdom of the alternative and lay down your inferior agenda. Repentance isn’t just changing one’s mental perspective but it’s the actual transformation of one’s mind and subsequently, one’s life. When you embrace the superior alternative, it begins to transform your values, perspective and behavior. It’s a complete shift of worldview.

St. Isaac the Syrian correctly defines repentance as “to be transformed in the renewal of the mind.” While it can include remorse or confessing to breaking a law, repentance is ultimately the process of becoming one in heart and mind with Christ. Therefore, it is something we do through the rest of our lives.

So spiritual formation in the Orthodox Church is to be constantly confronted with the superior way, truth and life that is Christ himself, to be encouraged and urged to weigh the consequences of my self-destructive patterns of thinking, behaving and relating in light of the better way of Christ, and to lay down my way and to take up my cross and follow Christ. And this entire process is soaked in God’s divine energies.

“But whenever anyone turns to the Lord, the veil is taken away. Now the Lord is the Spirit, and where the Spirit of the Lord is, there is freedom. And we, who with unveiled faces all reflect the Lord’s glory, are being transformed into his likeness with ever-increasing glory, which comes from the lord, who is the Spirit.” 2 Corinthians 3:16-18

It is this way that the Church is therapeutic, healing and repairing us of our brokenness and distortion. It is this way that the Church is like a gym, training and honing us into holiness.

Our family is blessed to have Fr Patrick O’Grady as our priest. So I’m pleased to announce that he has a brand-spanking new website! A friend of mine has been building it for him and it went live yesterday. Mmm… I just love that “new website” smell. Go check it out HERE.

Today is the Feast of The Elevation of the Venerable and Life-Giving Cross. I found a wonderful quote on Fr Ted Bobosh’s blog that I thought was worth sharing:

“Only the cross can meet the suspicion of escapism: God gives hope not by promising to pull us into a different world but by offering us a fresh beginning in this world, by himself coming to a place of the very sort we are tempted to escape, a place where suffering, opposition, and senseless conspire to make life appear utterly futile and unbearable.  Only the cross can meet the suspicion of optimism in human nature: God gives us hope by meeting us not at the lofty summits of human achievement but at the point where all purely human hopes have shrunk and collapsed; it is here that exhausted human hope can be remade out of inexhaustible possibilities of God’s love.  Only the cross can meet the suspicion of violent domination: God gives us hope not by defeating the powers of darkness with some equivalent act of violence from above but by submitting to them and bearing their force from below, not by an imperial force that crushes from on high but by a love that absorbs evil in the depths.  This is the way of Golgatha, God’s wisdom (1 Cor. 1:18-25).”   (Jeremy S. Begbie, Resounding Truth)

For twenty-three years as a Protestant, theology was basically an exercise in abstract doctrinal formulation. One was correct in theology if one assented to a pre-determined set of doctrinal bullet points. In this light, theology is about opinions. Surely, educated opinions, but opinions nonetheless.

During the last few years of my journey as a Protestant, I took this practice to its most logical conclusion. Burned too many times by embracing doctrines, ideas and opinions simply because I was told they were true and I must embrace them, I set about constructing my own theological system. Drawing heavily upon NT Wright and other theologians that I respected, I built a theological construct with which I could live.

One of the first things I realized on my way to becoming an Orthodox Christian is that theology is not viewed as matter of opinion in Orthodoxy. Nor is it about formulating an abstract religious belief system. In Orthodoxy, theology is life. As a Protestant, a theologian was one who usually had acquired the appropriate academic training. However, as an Orthodox, a theologian was one who had developed purity in prayer. In fact, there is an Orthodox adage, “The one who has purity in prayer is a true theologian, and the one who is a true theologian has purity in prayer.”

Frankly, that leaves me out. I spent too much time and money pursuing the academic side of theology and too little time praying. Obviously, this was a disappointing epiphany. But when I think about it, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I’m glad theology in the Orthodox Church isn’t left in the hands of people like me — men and women who have spent more time with their head in books rather than before icons in prayer.

A new post by Fr Stephen Freeman makes this crystal clear. In it he says:

Fr. Georges Florovsky, of blessed memory, once wrote that doctrine is “a verbal icon of Christ.” That statement may not carry much weight with the non-Orthodox – but should come as a profound revelation for contemporary Orthodox believers. What we find in the teaching of the Church is not a collection of “right opinions” but a verbal representation of Christ, similar to the representation found in the holy icons. Again, the non-Orthodox may not perceive the power in this statement – but it is an important way for Orthodox Christians to remove themselves from the position of valuing opinions and restore them to the position of holding doctrine in its proper veneration.

Orthodox theology is a verbal representation of Christ. This is HUGE! This removes theology from the realm of academics, theory, and opinions and places it in its rightful place within the obedient life of the Church. And this truth requires a significant transformation within me so that I learn to yield my opinions to the teaching of the Church and embrace the representation of Christ that is revealed within that teaching.

Among the strangest, yet most wonderful things I have encountered in Holy Orthodoxy are the holy icons. They are stunningly beautiful. And intellectually, I had no problem accepting their place in Orthodox worship and  spirituality. However, learning to venerate the icons as an integral part of my own participation in Orthodox worship and spirituality was a significant and awkward hurdle as a former Protestant.

Interestingly, my children led the way for me. After several visits to St. Peter’s, my kids asked if they could join the parish members in venerating the icons. Since our family was exploring Orthodoxy together, how could I deny them this experience? While several of my evangelical red flags were flying high, my children seemed to have no qualms with crossing themselves, bowing before and kissing the icons. As our family journeyed through our first Lent, I made a decision. I didn’t want my evangelical reservations, which had no place in Orthodoxy anyways, to prevent me from experiencing the fullness of Lent and the approaching Holy Week. So after one of the services, and with a great amount of trepidation, I joined the other parish members in venerating the icon. It felt like everyone was watching me. In hindsight I know that was not true. Veneration of the icons is a very personal moment and each person is given their appropriate privacy.

Now, almost 18 months later, I cannot imagine worship and prayer, even life in general, without the icons. The icons are the thin veil between the dimensions of earth and heaven, points of communion with God. Each icon is an expression of the incarnation, the presence of God embedded within material and flesh. The icons depict the cloud of witnesses who have attained the fullness of Christ and are now interceding for my salvation. As I gaze upon the icons, I gaze upon reality of the risen life in Christ within those who are my fathers and mothers and my brothers and sisters in Christ, without whom my journey to salvation would be impossible.

So that’s my personal experience with the icons. The catalyst for this reflection was a wonderful explanation of icons by Fr Stephen Freeman. Again, Fr Stephen hits one out of the park. While his post is not an exhaustive explanation and may not alleviate the evangelical misgivings of idolatry, it is a great introduction if one is trying to understand the role of icons in the Orthodox life. Here’s a great quote from Fr Stephen’s post:

The veneration of the saints in the Holy Icons is a lesson to the heart of how to venerate Christ in every person (who is made “in His image” [icon]).

Frankly, knowing the hardness of my own heart, that lesson alone is worth everything.

In my last post, I mentioned that I was reserving my 600th post to talk about a major milestone that I was approaching.   It would have been more correct to say that Debbie and I were approaching.  In a few days, we will be celebrating our 20th wedding anniversary!

I’m absolutely flabbergasted by this. It seems like we were just married a few years ago. But then I look at the size of my children and reality strikes.

When I reflect on the past twenty years, I am keenly aware of how fortunate I am. I have not only found someone who agreed to marry me, but someone who has chosen to be my best and most intimate friend. Virtually every evening, after the kids have gone to bed and Debbie sits next to me on the couch to unwind from the day’s activities, I am stunned by the fact that this beautiful and brilliant woman has chosen to spend her life with me; to spend that day with me; to spend that night with me.

Debbie has seen me at my worst. She has witnessed and borne the wounds of my bad decisions, my immaturity, my evil heart and my dismal failures. And despite all of this, she still chooses to love me, to trust me, to believe in me and to share her life with mine.

For those who have not met Debbie, I wish you could spend some time with her. She is gorgeous. She is intelligent. She is witty. She is funny. She is compassionate. She is courageous. She is spiritual. She is wise. She is virtuous. She is caring. She is sacrificial. She is optimistic. She is forgiving. She is generous. She is gentle. She is imaginative. She is loyal. She is an amazing person. (Oh, and did I mention she’s a Sci-Fi geek too!)

Forgive me for indulging a bit, but I absolutely love taking walks with Debbie with her hand in mine. I love looking into her eyes. I love it when she flashes me that smile that is for me alone. I love laughing with her, holding her, watching her.

When I look at Debbie, I am very conscious of how rich a man I am. I have been privileged to have spent most of my adult life with my best friend. I often imagine the kind of person I would have become without Debbie in my life. I know I would have become a self-absorbed and immature little man at best. But because God graced me with such a wonderful woman, I am confident that I am becoming a better man.

I have thoroughly enjoyed starting a family with Debbie and watching our four children mature into beautiful human beings. I see their mother’s winsome character in their lives and hope they come to realize how fortunate they are. And while I’m saddened at the thought that my children will eventually grow into adults and move on with their own lives, I’m comforted by knowing that Debbie will always remain at my side.

In fact, so much has shifted and changed in our lives. I have lost jobs and started jobs. We have changed churches and explored different forms of Christianity. We have watched friends move or die. We are watching our parents grow old and our children grow up. But through it all, our friendship and marriage has been the one constant unto which I have held.

I look forward to growing old with Debbie. I don’t know what the future holds for our lives. But I know that through the good and bad and through the joys and struggles, our love will surpass everything.

I love you, Debbie. I loved you beyond belief on our wedding day and my love has only grown over these twenty years. You’re everything to me and I pray God grants us many, many sensational years together. Happy Anniversary!

As always, Fr Stephen’s recent post is filled with accessible spiritual insight. Really good stuff. It’s a wonderful reminder of the power our “mere” thoughts, words and prayers possess, especially as we live in a culture that has trained us to naturally look at everything with a critical eye.

But for me, the highlight of Fr Stephen’s post was the introductory quote by The Elder Porphyrios:

Man has such powers that he can transmit good or evil to his environment. These matters are very delicate. Great care is needed. We need to see everything in a positive frame of mind. We mustn’t think anything evil about others. Even a simple glance or a sigh influences those around us. And even the slightest anger or indignation does harm. We need to have goodness and love in our soul and to transmit these things.

We need to be careful not to harbor any resentment against those who harm us, but rather to pray for them with love. Whatever any of our fellow men does, we should never think evil of him. We need always to have thoughts of love and always to think good of others. Look at St. Stephen the first martyr. He prayed, ‘Lord, do not hold this sin against them’ (Acts 7:60). We need to do the same.

Our goal is love. Spiritual disciplines, the various church services and the other vibrant resources of the Orthodox Church are wonderful traditions that have carried the life of Christ from the first Apostles until now and will do so far into the future. But the life of Christ is love.

“Lord, may I one day echo St Paul’s words:

I have been crucified with Christ and I no longer live, but Christ lives in me. The life I live in the body, I live by faith in the Son of God, who loved me and gave himself for me.

Lord, your life and your love in me and through me.”

Fr Stephen’s latest post is definitely a “must-read.” The following is but one of many great quotes in this post:

“To gather together in the Liturgy is to enter a new life.”

Read the entire post HERE.

I couldn’t let this pass… One of my favorite Orthodox writers, Fr Ted Bobosh (Am I Saved?) quoting my favorite theologian, NT Wright, about one of my favorite topics, the Church as Christ’s physical body on earth. Too cool!

Read it HERE.

I remember telling Debbie a couple months back that one of the reasons I love Holy Orthodoxy is that it’s a faith so vast and rich that I can never outgrow it. Fr Stephen Freeman’s recent post made me think about my comment and give thanks to God for leading me to this beautiful faith.

Christ is Risen! Truly He is Risen!

Today we celebrate Pascha. This is the day Christ rose from the dead, surprising creation with the inbreaking of God’s New Creation. Death has been trampled by death. God’s glorious future has dawned. His throne is moving from heaven to earth (Rev 22:1-5). And all of us may join him in both experiencing and contributing to the renewal.

The following is the climax of the short, yet stirring Paschal sermon of St John Chrysostom:

Hell was in turmoil having been eclipsed.
Hell was in turmoil having been mocked.
Hell was in turmoil having been destroyed.
Hell was in turmoil having been abolished.
Hell was in turmoil having been made captive.

Hell grasped a corpse, and met God.
Hell seized earth, and encountered heaven.
Hell took what it saw, and was overcome by what it could not see.

O death, where is your sting?
O hell, where is your victory?

Christ is risen, and you are cast down!
Christ is risen, and the demons are fallen!
Christ is risen, and the angels rejoice!
Christ is risen, and life is set free!
Christ is risen, and the tomb is emptied of its dead.

For Christ, having risen from the dead,
is become the first-fruits of those who have fallen asleep.

Glory to God!

Today  He is suspended on a Tree who suspended the earth over the waters.

Today  He is suspended on a Tree who suspended the earth over the waters.

Today  He is suspended on a Tree who suspended the earth over the waters.

A crown of thorns was placed on the head of the King of angels. He who wore a false purple robe covered the heavens with clouds. He was smitten who, in the Jordan, delivered Adam. The Groom of the Church was fastened with nails, and the Son of the Virgin was pierced with a spear.

Thy sufferings we adore, O Christ!

Thy sufferings we adore, O Christ!

Thy sufferings we adore, O Christ!

Make us to behold thy glorious Resurrection!

With epic simplicity the Gospel records that, on coming to the scene of the horrible end of His friend, “Jesus wept” (John 11:35). At this moment Lazarus, the friend of Christ, stands for all men, and Bethany is the mystical center of the world. Jesus wept as He saw the “very good” creation and its king, man, “made through Him” (John 1:3) to be filled with joy, life and light, now a burial ground in which man is sealed up in a tomb outside the city, removed from the fullness of life for which he was created, and decomposing in darkness, despair and death. — Very Rev. Paul Lazor, Orthodox Church of America Website

Today is the last day of Great Lent for Orthodox Christians. Tomorrow begins the journey through Holy Week, climaxing with Pascha on April 19.

Our family is preparing to attend a special service tonight that marks the transition from Great Lent to Holy Week. It’s called The Service of Little Compline with the Canon to Lazarus the Righteous. It anticipates tomorrow, Lazarus Saturday, when we celebrate Christ raising Lazarus as a taste of the soon-arriving Resurrection of Christ.

There’s a portion in tonight’s Canon that I love. In the hymn, Hell is personified at the moment when Christ raises Lazarus:

“I implore thee, Lazarus,” said Hell, “Rise up, depart quickly from my bonds and be gone. It is better for me to lament bitterly for the loss of one, rather than of all those whom I swallowed in my hunger.”

“Why dost thou delay, Lazarus?” cried Hell. “Thy Friend stands calling to thee: ‘Come out’ Go, then, and I too shall feel relief. For since I swallowed thee, all other food is loathsome to me.”

“O Lazarus, why dost thou not rise up swiftly?” cried Hell below, lamenting. “Why dost thou not run straightway from this place? Lest Christ take prisoner the others, after raising thee.”

I love it! Because of Christ, Lazarus gives Hell a four-day tummy-ache. The life of Christ gives Hell indigestion. And releasing Lazarus brings little relief. For in less than a week, Hell will swallow the Undying One. And the life of God will surge forth releasing all from Hell’s gullet.

You can almost hear the Paschal hymn whispering from the future:

“Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life!”

Fr Ted Bobosh has an excellent post about the limitations of our empirical knowledge in regards to the physical universe. I chuckled at the quote by astrophysicst Robert Jastrow:

“At this moment it seems as though science will never be able to raise the curtain on the mystery of creation.  For the scientist who has lived by his faith in the power of reason, the story ends like a bad dream.  He has scaled the mountains of ignorance; he is about to conquer the highest peak; as he pulls himself over the final rock, he is greeted by a band of theologians who have been sitting there for centuries.”

What we do know, as Fr Stephen Freeman states in a recent blog, is “from the very beginning of creation everything made has been made for the purpose of being united together with Christ.”

And I absolutely loved the extended quote by Sergius Bulgakov that formed the bulk of Fr Ted’s post. Whether we contemplate the moment of creation or the eschaton, we are peering into a mist. And any attempts to describe the vague shadows we view in the mist surpasses our human language to express. That’s the mystery and beauty of God’s handiwork.