In the fourth watch of the night, the church is only lit only by a few candles. Prayers are being said softly by the presiding hieromonk. Silence fills the air in the nave so that only his soft prayers to God can be heard by the ear that is attuned to listen. He who has ears to hear, let him hear those prayers and pray with the priest. The monks move with muffled steps across the solea without making a sound or any movement so as to distract the reverence of the service. They light a candle above the icon of Christ and another above the icon of the Theotokos before disappearing back into the wings of the church.

Orthros is in full swing and the chanters chant Psalm 50 (LXX) and the hieromonk emerges from the behind the altar and goes through the Royal Doors onto the solea. He is adorned in his priestly vestments with the klobuk veil draping down his back. In his hands he holds a well-worn fabric bound Gospel with a silver embossed icon of Christ in the center. The hieromonk takes his klobuk veil and drapes it over his shoulders. He tucks his hands under the phelonion so that his hands are completely hidden and holds the Gospel with his phelonion covered hands. Then like a larva ready to begin metamorphosis, he tilts his head down, he leans his shoulders forward, he bends his knees to lower himself, and lifts the Gospel in front of his face. None of his face, hands, or feet can be seen. None of him can be seen.

In his silk vestments, he has cocooned himself. All that is visible is the Gospel with the icon of Christ. The monks, nuns, and parishioners come to venerate the Gospel. I approach in silence and look upon the silver icon of the Lord Jesus. None of the priest can be seen because he has set his pride and ego to the side and decreased that Christ may increase. He is encased in a protective sheath with the Lord in front of him. His cocoon conceals his asceticism, his almsgiving, his virtues, his wisdom, his struggle. All that we can see is the icon of Christ which he holds in front of himself as he undergoes a transformation in his church silk cocoon.

Indeed, this is all that the priest wants others to see: the image and likeness of Christ. The priest doesn’t want to be seen, he doesn’t want to be known. He has determined only to know Christ and Him crucified.

I place my right hand on the soft worn fabric of the Gospel cover and with my unworthy lips, gently kiss the feet of Christ on the icon. The priest is motionless. The priest remains in a seemingly breathless silence as he waits for us all to venerate the icon of Christ while he himself is obscured from our eyes.

Then after the last person has venerated the icon of Christ, he emerges from his cocoon and throws back the klobuk veil off his shoulders. He stands upright and tall with the Gospel in his visible hands. By God’s grace, he is transfigured during the passing of time. By God’s grace, he is deified in the struggle to hold Christ up higher than himself. By God’s grace, he is divinized in the humility of only showing Christ to others. The priest turns his back to the nave and walks through the final Royal Doors with Christ.

Ding, ding, the bell rings as she pulls her car into the shop. It’s a small shop with only one bay for doing maintenance on cars, but the service here is second to none. If you want your car tuned up without any sales pitches or falsity, you come here. She steps out of the car and walks to the counter to check-in and speaks with the technician. He asks if she has an appointment and she affirms that she does. He asks what brings her in today and she describe that the car seems to be veering off course when she is driving. He asks if it’s consistent or only at higher speeds. She describes that it always appears to be pulling her off the road, but when she drives at higher speeds, then the veering is much more noticeable and significant. If she didn’t hold the steering wheel tightly with an angle to the right, then this vehicle would take her off course into a devastating situation.

As she speaks and the technician listens to her, he discerns the problem. He listens, asks clarifying questions and she shares additional details regarding the off-course bent of the car. He finally suggests that an alignment is in order and gets her permission to work on the car. He asks her to wait while he begins the work he was called to do. The only reason the woman was able to know that her car’s alignment was off was because she was able to perceive it through the windshield. If the windshield had been totally covered in grime, she would not have known to get it re-aligned because she could not have seen outside the car while driving. For when the windows and windshield are fully darkened with mud, nothing can be perceived. To break through that kind of grime would require someone willing to have their car washed anew and a light that can break through the darkness revealing their need for cleansing.

The technician prays as he works that God would give him the wisdom to understand and help here. He prays for the woman and her car. He checks the thrust angle of the car and gently tries to adjust the rear components to bring the thrust line back to zero. Doing this will ensure that the car’s propulsion forward is on the God-intended true centerline. He begins measuring the angles of the wheels. The first inclination might be to address the symptom, but perhaps the alignment issue could be stemming from another place on the car. First the camber, then the toe and followed by the caster. As he looks into the angle of the wheels, he knows how to adjust the angles without pushing too hard. Will the car let him fine tune it to manufacturer specifications? He modifies the control arms to adjust the camber and casters. Will the tie rods push back? He adjusts the tie rods to the correct toe. Almost there. Now he retests to see how the car responded, but it wasn’t ready to be fully re-aligned. He gets back to work and gently uses shims and bolts to fine tune the angles. Now he retests and ensure the wheels are aligned. While it’s not manufacturer perfect due to the wear and tear on the car, it’s as close as it will get today.

He returns to the woman and lets her know that she is ready to go. She asks how much the alignment service will cost since this is the first time she has ever come in the shop for this mysterious service. He replied that it cost nothing. She wears a confused expression on her face. He explains that he is only a servant and witness here, but the shop owner offers this freely to all. If people will allow him, he will help them change the course of their wheel’s alignment to what is proper and right. He encourages her to return to the shop when the alignment is not where it should be.

She hugs the technician from joy and then jumps back in her car and was surprised to see that the the windshield and windows had also been cleaned. That was curious because she hadn’t seen him wash the car. What a nice surprise. She drives out of the shop and the technician waves goodbye. As she drives away, he prays.

It was a normal, blue sky sunny day walking on the sidewalk next to a busy road with an interstate coming up overhead. I walked next to what appeared to be a homeless man going the same direction as me with a large gauze covering his eye as he pushed his trolley down the sidewalk. I struck up a conversation with him as we walked. I asked him what happened with his eye and then he described to me how he was suffering from squamous cell carcinoma that would eventually take his life. He removed the gauze and I saw the horror of the aggressive cancer taking over the side of his face and entirely covering his eye in physical blindness.

I asked why he had not gotten it treated and he began to describe how the doctors would not treat him because he didn’t have money. I countered that an emergency room visit would require treatment. However, emergency room visits ended up in referrals without treatment for him and those referrals resulted in dead ends because he had no healthcare insurance and no money to pay for services. So he bided his time.

The described lust for money over the care of a human life, even if he be a homeless transient man disturbed me and I told him so. He then began to describe to me how when someone sins, they miss the mark. As they continue to commit these sins, they increasingly miss the mark and stray further and further from what God intended thereby changing how they see the world. So that is how these people could treat him with such coldness.

He said this without malice, but in a peaceful understanding of how sin changes us. I stopped in my tracks to hear this man speak such wisdom as we approached an underpass with the interstate overhead. How did he understand that sin was missing the mark and with continued misses, the archer would get further and further away from the target God had intended for him?

In the dark shadow of the underpass and I asked him if I could pray for him to which he accepted. I was unsure of what I would pray about, but I opened my mouth and closed my eyes. As I addressed the Creator of heaven and earth and then mentioned this man, he interrupted and said,

“Don’t pray for my body. Pray for my soul.”

I hadn’t planned on praying for healing, but I did as he asked and prayed for his soul. I lifted up a simple plea for God’s forgiveness and mercy upon this man. For God’s remembrance of him in His eternal kingdom. While I lifted up words to my Lord and my God, this man chimed in and said,

“Now you are praying.”

I was so deeply moved by his surrender to death. He did not seek an extension on life. He did not seek a miracle, healing, or for better times. He sought God’s forgiveness and mercy on his soul so that he might live eternally in God’s presence. He was abandoned to life in the pursuit of Christ.

I marveled, took a moment to pause after the prayer, and the finally told him,

“You have an Orthodox Christian spirit about you.”

He smiled back at me and said,

“Yes, I do.”

How did this homeless man filled with squamous cell carcinoma, shunned from medical intervention, deprived of human kindness come to find a humble surrender to God’s will? Who taught him how sin takes us off course away from what God had intended? How did he come to treasure the mercy and forgiveness of God over the attachment to this life? Though I approached him that day thinking I could offer him some company and encouraging words, I ended up being the one who was humbled. I ended up being the one who was taught. I ended up being the one left in wonder of how God works in our lives.

The man walks about in the soft light of the day along the port. The gulls cry as they fly overhead and land on the empty docks to see if there is some easy catch of food to be had. The man angrily shoos the gulls away and walks along the docks to see what is for sale. Per usual, junk. Can’t these people find any decent quality stuff to sell. He argues with the people about the condition of the goods. He demeans them for any slight offense whether that be the quality of food, the speed of the service he receives, the lack of communication, the over communication, the craftsmanship of the wares he purchases, the decor of the business establishments, and the appearance of the retail workers. Everything offends him and nothing pleases him. His standards demand something so much higher than what this lousy port has to offer.

When the man returns to his own work, he does it all himself. He always tells people if you want something done right, you have to do it yourself. Rather than letting other people try and fail so that they can learn, he would rather scold them for not doing it as well as he does it. The work of his hands is perfection in his eyes and when it’s less than perfection, he is gracious with himself, but not with others.

He goes home and his children annoy him with their incessant questions. His wife has prepared a meal, but she doesn’t know what he likes and always manages to make it the exact opposite way. Why can’t she just listen and do it better? She never pays attention to what he needs. Why can’t the children be more sensible? Do they have to be so loud? He wolfs some food down and decides to spend time at one of his favorite places in this port town - the rooftop bar.

Here they play the music he likes, they have spectacular views of the sunset, the staff are kind, but not too nice. They are dressed stylishly which don’t invite his critique. The food and drinks are expensive, but are of excellent quality. The guests here dress to impress and talk of their travels and accomplishments. They feign interest in one another, but deep down their care for others is motivated by the love of self. They only connect with those that will help them climb the ladder, they befriend people they can coercively use, they show affection to people only to please themselves.

While at the rooftop bar far from the lowly people on the docks and his family, he finds a moment of enjoyment. It’s so good to be waited on hand and foot. It’s so good to have people interested in hearing what he has to say. He relishes the attention. He craves the service. He longs to be worshipped though he’d never say so himself. He inhales deeply and his chest swells as he looks down on the people below. He’s a cut above the rest. This is the pride of life.

But there is a commotion on the docks. The people are all gathered around someone who is sharing good news. The crowd down below grows and grows until it’s a throng of people. He can’t hear what is being said, but he wants to know. This is a displeasing predicament. Does he lower himself to go down there and find out what all the bustle is about or does he stay atop his rooftop bar and remain in the dark? He asks one of the servers to go down and find out what is being said. She leaves the rooftop bar and goes down onto the docks and he watches her chat with the people in the crowd. They make gestures to the open ocean and point to the docks. She asks them questions and they nod their heads. They gesture with their arms of something grand in scale and again point to the docks.

She returns back to the rooftop bar and tells the man the news that she has heard. A magnificent cruise ship is coming. No one has ever seen anything like it before. Nothing on earth can be compared with the glory that is to be revealed. It is the greatest pearl of all the oceans. The people say that you haven’t lived life until you’ve lived on this cruise ship.

The man is intrigued and asks how he can board this ship. She explains that the captain of the cruise ship is coming to port and inviting everyone to celebrate his only son’s wedding. It is a celebration not to be missed and he wants all people to come. This is bewildering to the man. Even more bewildering is how the server responded to his skeptical questions:

How is it that the captain is inviting everyone? Yes, he has invited everyone.

Is there room for everyone if everyone said yes? Yes, there is room for everyone if everyone boarded the ship.

This is ridiculous, it can’t really be true or else the man would have seen this ship? It is true, she assures him, and the time is coming soon for the ship to arrive.

This ship can’t really be as good as it sounds if everyone is invited including the homeless, the sick, the poor, the unintelligent, the common? Yes, this ship is beyond compare and the captain wants everyone to partake in his son’s wedding.

Why would the captain and son want all of the riff-raff to board his magnificent cruise ship? The guests who had originally been invited declined to come to receive the captain’s son with joy, so he has invited anyone and everyone to come.

The man despised this proposal. These people are coping about a better life so that they can have a bit of escapism from their mundane existence. They have to have something to hope in or believe in because they can’t accept their own mistakes or the harshness of life. Those who are sick and dying want to dream of a better life. Those who are homeless want to dream of a first class, luxurious sailing away from their current circumstance. Anyone with good sense or even a bit of education would see this is a foolish notion. This life is all you’ve got and you’ve got to make the most of it. He stays on his rooftop bar, trading an inheritance of immeasurable value for a bowl of selfish desires. He tilts his glass of denial bottoms up. It’s delicious in this moment, but it can’t last forever.

Day after day passes on the rooftop bar, year after year, and no sign of this cruise ship. The man smirks to himself grateful that he didn’t believe that nonsense. When unexpectedly he hears shouts of joy behind him. He turns round to look and he sees something in the distance coming from the east. He had been looking west this whole time because the rooftop bar offered the best view of the sunset, but the ship was coming from behind him and caught him unaware. He had been living his life feeding his ego, pleasing his eyes, hardening his heart, and looking towards the setting of his life not expecting a majestic ship to come from the dawn’s horizon. But here it was. Or rather, here it is.

As the cruise ship pulled into the port, he was filled with awe. He had to find a way to board this ship. He ran down from the rooftop bar and told no one of his plan, not even his wife or children. If he was to board this ship, he’d have to do it now because the people were already queuing up to board. He asked one of the people in queue how he could board the ship and they indicated that he must go through the only gate.

And so it was, there was a single gate blocking access to the ramp and everyone on the docks was queued up to go through the gate. In that gate stood the captain’s son. Ugh, the son was just as common and dull looking as everyone else. There was nothing extraordinary by the look of him, no attractiveness that anyone would desire him, no clout about him. Even his clothes were simple and uninteresting. The people kissed his hand, embraced him, wept on his shoulder, and the man found this repulsive. He would never put his lips on that son’s hand let alone humble himself before this bridegroom to ask for permission to board his father’s glorious ship. This whole business of going through him and paying homage was pathetic. They treat him like he is the Son of God or something. The man didn’t need to wait in this queue and he certainly didn’t need to pay his respects to the son. He just needed to find another way to board this ship without being noticed and then he could blend in with all of the other guests.

He looked the ship over from the docks and he spotted a Jacob’s ladder on the side of the cruise ship. Eureka! That was his ticket to board the ship. This seemed like the best idea to him and it was now or never. He looked back at the son to see if he was watching him about to leap into the water and then the man had a moment of hesitation. He saw the server who had brought him the good news about this ship years ago. Even she had left it all behind and was going through the gate. He watched her approach the captain’s son and then the son turned and looked directly into the man’s eyes.

With locked eyes and seeing the grace the son offered to him, he doubted his plan to evade the son and enter the ship like an intruder. What if he was wrong? Maybe he should just go talk to the son and tell him how he’s struggling with all of this. Turning his attention to the ladder again, this way seemed right in his own eyes plus he didn’t have to humble himself before the son.

Three long horn blasts with each one knocking on the door of his heart. The man took one last look at the son. A final bellowing horn blasted that made the docks under him rumble and the man took the final leap of his life.

He jumped into the frigid waters and it took his breath away. His heart stopped from the sheer coldness of the ocean and he swam to the side of the cruise ship. Fortunately, the waters were calm today and there was no wind, so he was able to catch hold of the Jacob’s ladder and begin the high climb up. The cruise ship towered above him hundreds of feet into the air. Up, up, up he went and no one else followed him on this route. It must be because only he was clever enough to have thought of it. Finally, he reached the lower deck and was aboard the ship.

Ah, he was so satisfied with himself. He looked back and saw people going up the gangway to the top deck. He inspected the best way up as he didn’t use the ramp which would lead to the grand staircase, so he used the stairwells instead. Stairwell after stairwell and at last he reached the top deck. It was superb. Stunning beauty everywhere unlike anything he had ever seen before. There were tables set everywhere for an exquisite dinner party, music was being played by the most enormous orchestra he had ever seen, songs were being sung angelically and antiphonally on starboard and port. He sat himself down and began eating the food. He paid no mind to the other guests around him and he ate ravenously without regard for others except for his own appetites. Tearing at the food with his hands and teeth as if he were something not fully human. Never had food or drink tasted this good, but never had the light shined so bright. The guests around him were exasperatingly kind and good to one another. They had so much joy with one another, but he had none for them. They all sat in each other’s company at the table with him, but he sat alone in his own company. Their hearts were full of love, but his heart was tragically devoid of it. They had communion and fellowship with one another, but his pride had isolated him from it.

The cruise ship had set sail and the port was far, far behind. No chance of ever swimming back there now. But that didn’t matter; he was smooth sailing in most sublime place any person could imagine. It was faultless except for a couple things. The light here was actually painfully bright. It seemed pervasive across all the decks. It reflected off the water, the deck, the dinnerware, the cutlery, the clothes of the guests around him, everything reflected this blinding light. Sunglasses wouldn’t do him any good here because it was so radiant. He had left everything behind when he plunged into the ocean to board the ship by another way. This ship had filled him with awe, but now he was awfully uncomfortable. He would have preferred to be in the shade of the night.

The other thing was the hospitality of the captain and son as they made their rounds. The people loved to be in his presence and the captain and son loved having them on the ship with them. They were so loving, so joyful, so peaceful. The guests were not at all repelled by the light that emanated from them, but instead leaned into it. This reminded the man of something. What was it? Ah, he recalled having seen a painting of the last supper where a disciple leaned onto Christ. It was like that. Their pure souls were agape to receive the light with an absolute trust that had no reason to lean away. They loved him. And they were so unlike the man. It was revolting.

While the man had been pondering this, the captain with his attending crew members approached his table. The man wanted nothing more than to get away from him as far as possible. He was thinking about taking a plate of food in search of a darker spot on this ship if that were possible, but the captain spoke to the man before he could try and slip away. The captain asked,

“Friend, how did you come in here without a wedding garment?”

The man looked at his own clothes which seemed just fine for this party and then he looked at everyone else around him. And he saw it. The garments of their life were clothed in humility and righteous acts. They were illuminated, but his own clothes had this dull darkness of pride. The guests whom he had seen on the port had all been transformed and they all looked on the captain and his son with adoration. They looked on each other without ego, without competitiveness, without selfishness. But he could not bear to look on them. He had no words to explain himself and his unlawful entry. He was speechless. He was afraid. He knew that whatever he answered would be the wrong answer and so he made a shrugging gesture of uncertainty and befuddlement.

The captain was most disappointed and spoke to the crew. They lifted the man out of his seat and pulled him away from the table and hauled him out of the wedding party as if he weighed nothing. Now he was really starting to regret the decision of ever trying to board this ship. He should have done things differently back on the port. He should have demanded of that son to let him in on his own terms. Now he realized that there was not going to be any place for him on this once-in-a-lifetime voyage, but he didn’t want it anyway. Tears streamed down his face as his heart was filled with anger at the captain, rage at the captain’s son, and fury at the unworthy people on this top deck. Who do they think they are anyway? He gnashed his teeth at them as he was thrown overboard. As he fell from the ship he had no remorse, no love for the captain, no love for the son, no love for anyone, but himself. He didn’t want that infernal light on him, he didn’t want their insufferable love, he didn’t want the eternal grace of this place. He wanted to be as far away from it as possible. And so his regrettable disembarking wish was granted.

Another week goes by and another week of living paycheck to paycheck. A man can’t get a break like this and everything is getting more and more expensive. Payday has arrived and luckily it falls on the day when there’s a big lottery jackpot. The deposit is in the bank, cash in hand, and then another lottery ticket bought. He never wins the lottery other than some petty cash, but he sees the pictures of happy jackpot winners on the lottery website. Maybe he will make that life changing win one day. Maybe today will be his lucky day.

He checks the numbers and sure enough it is his lucky day. He gets a nice payout from this one. Not enough to change his lot in life. Not enough to quit a job over. Not enough to go on a spending spree, but enough to gamble a little bit higher stakes. He’s riding out the dopamine rush and headed to the casino on a Saturday night. He can test out his skill to rake in some real cash. He plans to have a good time, deluding himself with gulps of bad judgment and overconfidence. With a bit of luck, he will be rich after this night.

What he fails to realize is that he does not have to seek riches by chance; he has access to the greatest wealth in human history. But it’s not of this world. However, he’s not looking for that right now. His vision has been obscured to only look for worth in material things. He would rather have the perishable wealth that can be cashed in for decaying possessions, fleeting comforts, and every sinful passion he could dream of.

He pulls the levers of hope, but emptiness pours out. He rolls the dice of chance, but it’s already loaded against him. He sits at the table and hits for a higher number, but the next unpulled card is already going to make him go bust.

He is deceived. He forgets the house always wins. He smells the perfumes, the money, and his imagination is tantalized by the opportunities. The endless noise in his ears imply others are winning around him. His eyes gorge on the advertisements of supposed winners and make him greedy for more. Somehow… he fails to understand how much of this place is just an illusion, a dream.

With the time of his life, he earns money which he inserts into the machine while the corpulent god of avarice laughs and takes his life from him. He’s bought in. With both hands, he slides his stack across the table to raise the bet only to get handcuffed by the avaricious passion. He is cuffed to the table to stay in the distracting fantasy, to play the game, and is promised wealth beyond his wildest dreams. The man is imprisoned in an endless desire for more of something that can never satiate what his soul really longs for... freedom.

Hours fade into days, days into months, and months into years. It’s the same old game with the same old rush of excitement, the frustration of losing, and another winning hook to keep him spending a little bit more money, a little bit more time, a little bit more of his life. There are no clocks on the walls here. There are no clear signs of how to leave. He reflects on the countless weekends spent here over the years and he realizes that he's straight flushed away his life. He is a prisoner of sin.

The house arrest has made him sick to his soul. He wants to be healed, but doesn’t know what is the cure. He wants to escape, but he can’t find the way out of this maze. He wants to be free, but he’s paralyzed by this wretched greed. He lowers his head, his tears fall onto the spinning wheel, the sounds fade, the colors blur, and the shuffling stops.

A new Man not of this place, not entrapped, not enslaved, but wholly free, sits beside him at the table and looks into his eyes with compassion and understanding. The imprisoned man doesn’t know how to ask the question, but his heart is internally crying out. For some inexplicable reason, it seems that this new Man knows the groans of his soul and the words he’s struggling to find. So the new Man asks the imprisoned man,

“Do you want to be healed?”

“Sir, I would leave this place, but my soul is paralyzed by this greed and I have no one to help me.”

The new Man pauses and the silence fills the place. There are no distractions between them. Everything folds away and the imprisoned man humbly longs for nothing more than to be healed, to be set free, to be rid of these passions by the One who is wholly free of them. Then the new Man says,

“Stand up, get your coat, and leave this place.”

The man who had been cuffed by greed found that he now had the strength to stand up and pull himself free with the help of this new Man. He is finally unchained from this nightmare.

With the first taste of victory over what has so long controlled his life, his thoughts, his desires, his ambitions, he sheds tears of joy. He clearly sees that the new Man before him is the Way out of this place. He is the Life-giving Physician he’s been looking for. The man’s soul never found a chip of truth in this place, but this God-Man, this new Adam… He is the Christ, He is the Truth. Christ leads him to the exit and as they walk into the light, the man knows his journey to true freedom is only the beginning… a new beginning.

All those years, I didn’t know He loved this much.

All those years, I didn’t know He humbled Himself this much.

All those years, I didn’t know He suffered this much.

All those years, I didn’t know a love without limits like this.

All those years, I didn’t know a living faith like this.

All those years, I didn’t know a history of martyrs like this.

All those years, I didn’t know she was so worthy of praise.

All those years, I didn’t know she was higher than the angels.

All those years, I didn’t know she interceded before her Son.

All those years, I didn’t know the apostles’ succession never ceased.

All those years, I didn’t know the abundance of Divine grace here.

All those years, I didn’t know this was the fullness of the faith.

The coldest part of winter is behind us and springtime is soon to follow. I always enjoyed the crispness of the winter air because it made me miss the warmth of the summer sun. This time of year the Praetorian are scattered around the empire and I am stationed in Nicomedia.

In the early hours of the morning, I rose up from my bed, knelt facing the east, and prayed before the Most High God with prostrations, praise, and adoration of Him. For because of Him I have been called out of darkness into His glorious light. I have been promoted up the ranks and was given the command of 1,000 men under me. He has allowed me to find favor in the sight of my superiors though I am only the age of thirty. I have been spared in many a battle and the Lord protected me from the fiery darts of the enemy. Many victories have been given into my hand, but no credit can be given to me. The Lord has saved me countless times and it is to Him that I lift up my song of praise and thanksgiving.

I arose to change into my uniform and I continued my daily prayers. As I put on my tunica, I asked for Him to clothe me with mercy, kindness, humility, meekness, and long-suffering. When I put on my leather caligae, I asked to be made ready with the gospel of peace. I fitted the lorica segmentata over my chest and shoulders asking the Lord to fasten it as a breastplate of righteousness. My red sagum had a beautiful fibula embroidered on it and I asked to be wrapped in zeal for the Lord. I armed myself with a gladius to my side and a sidearm of a pugio asking for the sword of the Spirit. On the table sat my galea which was unique from the other Praetorian as it had a transverse crest signifying my role as Tribunus. I placed this on top of my head and asked for God to armor me with the helmet of salvation.

I crossed myself and walked out of my quarters ready for the day. Immediately upon exiting my quarters, one of those in my cohort had already made ready my white horse. It stood tall, confident, brilliant, and brave. He has been with me through many battles and even though he is a war horse, he is my horse. I walked up to him and whispered in his ear,

“Did you remember to say your prayers? Holy, holy, holy is the Lord of hosts;
the whole earth is full of His glory.”

His ears pricked forward as I said this morning prayer with him and then I mounted him. I looked around at the city which was beginning to bustle and the sun was just breaking over the horizon. My lorica segmentata and galea had been polished the night before by one of my Praetorian and now reflected in the light of the sun.

A small retinue rode up to me, gave me their morning report, and would accompany me as I toured the city. This is a traditional practice to show a display of military presence and reassure the security of the city to the people. Me and my retinue took off and it was going to be a glorious day. I turned my horse and started to walk towards the east. The hoofs of our horses clap on the stones and the breeze blew behind into my sagum so that it trailed behind me.

First we went round the walls of the city in a perimeter lap and soldiers saluted as we went. As we passed through the poorer part of the city, I slowed my horse’s gait whereas other Praetorian would normally go quicker to avoid interactions here. The children ran out to greet me and walked alongside my horse. Their faces were bright with smiles, they waved, they cried out to me, and showed me new tricks they had learned. The men stopped their work and waved to us. The Praetorian with me were annoyed by this delay, but they would have to wait for me as the senior ranking Praetorian. The older women rushed out of their homes and coming up next to me grabbed me by the hands, kissed them repeatedly, and thanked me. Some of them poured out their hearts as they looked up telling me of their plights, their troubles, and asked for any help I could offer, any prayers I could lift up on their behalf. I reassured them, I comforted them, I squeezed their hands in mine, and treasured their faces on which the love of God so brightly shined.

We continued our patrol and after the perimeter had been encircled, we went up towards the center of the city. The buildings became larger, more regal, and more impressive. By the time we had reached the city center there was already quite the bustle.

But this morning was different. Normally we would see people talking and moving about in all directions, but the large majority were gathered at the Forum. Me and my retinue road up to the Forum to see what the commotion was and I could see quite a stir of discussion around a document that had been nailed up for all to see. I asked what the meaning of the commotion was and a citizen replied,

“It is an edict from the Emperor.”

Not wanting to appear uninformed due to my role as Tribunus, I paused in silence, but I also needed to know what had the citizens in a stir as this could become disorderly. I looked over at my Praetorians and they shrugged. I gave a nod of my head for them inspect it and report back to me. One of them dismounted and walked through the crowd of people as I sat on horseback watching. As I waited, the cool wind blew and making the leather and metal of my armor feel colder on my body. My horse wanted to pull to the left and leave the Forum, but I pulled him back in line and he shifted his body back into place. The Praetorian returned to and walked up to me and said,

“Tribunus, I report that the Emperor is going to burn down all the Christians churches, burn their holy books, and forbid them from meeting. If they disobey, they’ll be killed. You should lead your Praetorians to the temple of Mars so that we can offer sacrifices to the gods.”

My brow furrowed in disbelief and I scanned his face and then looked over at the people and the edict hanging up in the Forum. Many of the people were looking back at me. The world seemed to pause its progression of time for a moment and all seemed quiet. I dismounted and then walked over with authority and composure to the edict and the sea of people parted for me as I walked up to it to read it with my own eyes.

Emperor Diocletian had indeed ordered that all churches and places of Christian worship be razed to the ground. All Scriptures, books, and sacred writings were to be surrendered to the magistrates and publicly burned. Secretive meetings of Christians who are found out faced the penalty of death. Anyone serving in the imperial court who refused to obey would be stripped of their rank and privileges. Any Christian slaves were not allowed to be freed. Anyone serving as soldier, officer or official of the Empire would have to procure a libellus that they had offered a sacrifice to the gods.

This can’t be happening. Who has convinced the emperor to do such a thing? What wrong have the Christians done to him or any of the citizens of the Empire? As if we were a seditious, evil sort of people who were breaking his laws and terrorizing his people? This is unjust. This is cruel. This is evil. He has lost his mind and I will tell him to his face so that he might see reason.

I pulled the edict off the nail and ripped it clean in two. Everyone in the Forum fell silent and stared in horror. I angrily squeezed the two halves of the edict in my hand and marched out of the Forum and mounted my horse in haste.

The Praetorian next to me said,

“Tribunus, don’t do this. You’ll provoke the anger of the gods and the Emperor himself.”

I whipped round in my saddle to him and said,

“It is the Emperor who has angered the One True God and I will tell him myself.”

I turned my horse away from the Forum and dug my heels into his side and off we went straight towards the emperor’s residence with the ripped edict clutched in my hand with the rein. I wanted the horse to gallop, but there were far too many people to gain that kind of speed, so I had to restrict myself to a canter and my retinue followed behind me. My heart pounded with the thuds of my horse’s hooves hitting the stones and I felt every rush of blood through my body from my heart.

I had to abruptly stop my horse because a man was pushing a giant wheel through the street. The man stopped and looked at me fearing that I was about to charge into him, but I signaled him to keep moving. While I waited, I heard the crack of a whip to my right. In the smithy, I saw a man testing out a new scourge with metal tips and another pulling out red hot irons from the furnace. The blacksmith’s hammer kept coming down on the anvil, strike after strike after strike.

I turned my attention back to where I was going and I could hear my retinue pleading with me to turn back from this madness. The way was clear now and I charged ahead without giving them a response. If I stopped and waited for them they would either detain me or try to arrest me. This was to be the only outcome whether I waited for them or spoke before the emperor, but at least if I spoke to the emperor I might have a chance of turning him back from enforcing this hellish law. I arrived at the emperor’s residence and Praetorian guards stood outside the front steps. I dismounted quickly and handed the reins to one of the guards and said,

“Whatever happens, take care of this horse as if it were your own.”

“Yes, Tribunus.”

I walked past the guards and into the emperor’s residence. I sped through the entrance courtyard which was covered in idols of the deities, manmade fountains, and thorny vines growing up the walls. By this time of morning, I knew he’d either be in his administrative chambers or the aula regia and I made the snap decision to charge into the aula regia. As I entered the large audience hall, one would normally be impressed by the workmanship of the stones, the columns, the windows, the draperies, the busts, the tiles, and the mosaics. It was like being transported into a royal kingdom all in one room and at the opposite end was stationed on an elevated platform the throne of the emperor which was occupied.

Without pausing, I continued my walk with a salute towards him and as I moved closer, I paused about 15 feet away from him and bowed and then said,

“Hail Augustus, I report.”

I looked up at him and then he nodded a consent for me to proceed and said,

“Tribunus, what is your report?”

I removed my galea and kept it at my side under my left arm and with my right hand I raised up the ripped edict in my hand and said,

“This is my report! Imperator, you have unjustly ordered the persecution of those citizens practicing the Christian religion. The razing of their churches, the burning of their scriptures, the removal of their office, denying them freedom from slavery. What crime have they committed? How have they wronged you? What threat to the empire do they pose?”

Emperor Diocletian looked at me bewildered. I am sure that this was not at all the report that he expected to hear from one of his Praetorian and nor was he accustomed to being questioned in such a bold way. He paused as he pondered the situation and then opened with a question,

“Tribunus, surely a man of your rank doesn’t waste pity on these fools? Surely you are not one of them? For how can a man so favored by the gods be a Christian? You know as well as I do that these people do not sacrifice to me or any of our gods. By allowing them to persist in their dissidence and rejection of our gods, they are inviting the punishment of the gods and robbing the Empire of the glory that is to be ours. Surely, every Tribunus in the Praetorian understands this, and, do you not?”

I was about to respond when I noticed another man coming from the back left of the room into the audience hall and he moved closer to the emperor and was dressed quite princely. The emperor paid him no mind and did not even acknowledge his presence. I turned my attention back to the emperor and said,

“Emperor, I have served you faithfully all these years with diligence and courage on the battlefield. I have fought valiantly for you and this Empire and would have willingly laid down my life for you, my Empire, my brothers, my sisters, my family, the poor, the weak, the helpless, even for the good of all. In all these years I have served at your command with distinguished honor. My own Christian faith has never hindered me in my service to you, the Empire, or its citizens. I implore you now to revoke this edict and see how we Christians are law abiding citizens who loyally serve our Emperor and live peaceably with our fellow man. Consider my own life as an example of such loyalty.”

The princely man whispered to the emperor, but the emperor did not offer any form of acknowledgment that he knew the princely man was beside him and advising him. The emperor then said,

“Tribunus, I know of you and your valor. I know of your goodness to the people. I know of your loyalty to me and the Empire. But to refuse an edict signed by my own hand puts you at odds with me and the gods to your own peril, it will ruin you as you will be dishonored among your brethren, and you will be dismissed from my service. You may not love the gods in your heart, but you are commanded to offer sacrifice to them and to lead your Praetorian to do the same. Defiance will not be tolerated. You know as well as I do that it always leads to rebellions. You have only to look at the barbarians to know that sparing dissidents always ends up in a revolt and it will be no different with these Christians. So rather than see you be dishonored and shamed, I want to exalt you. A man of your stature and reputation deserves to be recognized. Offer your sacrifices before sundown today in the sight of all people and I will address you as Legatus legionis…”

He let the words hang in the air so that I could consider the offer of stepping up from commanding a cohort to a legion. It would be unheard of for someone my age to be a Legatus legionis and to command 5,000 Praetorians. The wealth and influence that would come with that would be substantial. I looked on him intently to see if there was any chance of his heart being moved to revoke the edict, but pride was his necklace and violence was his garment. He had set his mouth against the heavens and his tongue struts scoffing words as if he created the earth himself. I had no desire for this offer of betrayal, but he read my silence as a hesitation and followed with,

“And if you serve me and the gods faithfully in the years to come, I will appoint you as a Praetorian Prefect. Put this folly behind you and lead the Empire into its former glory with me. The world can be and will be yours.”

“Imperator, you offer me all of the treasures of the world, but these are not to be compared with the riches of knowing the One True God. If I should gain the whole world by renouncing my Christian faith, then I will lose the only thing worth having… which is Christ.”

The countenance of the emperor fell. He seemed internally conflicted as if he didn’t understand how someone could say no to such an offer. But then I saw his expression change and his gaze began more intently malicious as he said,

“George, are you really going to be a fool and die over this?”

I responded with calm resolve,

“I would die 1,000 deaths for Christ and still never betray Him for He has never betrayed me. For it has been my God who has strengthened my hand in battle, who has deflected the enemy’s fiery arrows, who has upheld the horse which carried me through torrents of battles, who has strengthened me to slay the dragons of darkness. Indeed, Christ is the only thing worth having and He is the only thing worth living for. All of my work has been for His glory. You can take my life, but He holds my soul!”

The guards in the audience hall widened their eyes and looked in the direction of the emperor. The emperor burned with anger for being defied and his hands clenched into fists. I can see that this earthly emperor thinks he can intimidate and persecute Christians into renouncing their faith and thereby thwart the power of the Christ. This mortal emperor thinks that by killing Christians he can kill the true God, the living God, the everlasting King. But Christ has already conquered death by His own death. He is the resurrection and the life.

My eyes shifted left and the prince standing beside the emperor bore the expression of unrepressed hatred. He seethed and gnashed his teeth at me. As furious as the furnace of Nebuchadnezzar, his face blazed with wrath against me, against all Christians, but most of all against Jesus. Christ is the One whom he waged war with. Though he will try to strike me down along with my brothers and sisters in Christ, he really wishes he could strike down Christ… but he cannot. He is one who motivated the Pharaoh to kill the sons of the Hebrews to prevent their imminent freedom. It was he who nurtured Haman’s desire to destroy God’s people. He is the one impelled Herod to strike down the sons of Bethlehem in an attempt to kill the True King. Yet this evil prince of darkness simply cannot strike down Christ.

The hall began to fill with wave after wave of onlookers. These were no ordinary onlookers. They were imperceptible to the emperor and the guards in the audience hall, but indeed they were the audience in a cosmic colosseum. They had come for a show and to give their approval of what would happen next by spurring on the emperor and guards. They were dark, twisted, and only interested in serving their own will by deceiving everyone into the destruction of everything. A sense of dread falls down into the pit of my stomach.

The guards in the audience hall were ordered to strip me of my armor and weaponry and I did not resist them. They first removed my gladius and pugia and then they detached my sagum and took the galea out of my left hand. The red sagum which had been my honor fell to the floor like a piece of meaningless fabric. The world had woven and embroidered that red sagum for me. The world had told me that I possessed power and prestige and robed me in its beauty, but when I stood firm for my love of Christ, the world cast me off in an instant without any love or remorse. Her offerings of power lay on the floor worthless as the guards trampled it underfoot like it were only piece of cloth ready to be thrown out.

I maintained an unwavering eye contact with the furious emperor. Though they disarmed me, my heart and mind was steadily armed in prayer. Though they stripped me, I had put on Christ. Though they intended for me to die, I will live with Christ.

Finally, the guards took my leather caligae off my feet, so that I stood barefoot on the tiles. Then one of the guards took it and using the sole struck me across the face. With a mocking laugh he said,

“Looks like you’re going to need new shoes.”

The guards laughed and the onlookers jeered at me and reveled in my pain and humiliation. They erupted into wild, maniacal delight to see human suffering. They were lustful for injustice. They were greedy for pain. They were ravenous for death.

Another of the guards was encouraged by this and swung his fist into my jaw and the first guard then struck me in my stomach so that I bent over in pain. I looked down at the floor and saw the blood from my mouth drip onto the tiles. I raised myself up slowly without retaliation and noticed someone was approaching from behind the guards. It was a Man of gladsome light, a joyous light of glory. The onlookers saw Him and were dumbstruck and aghast. As He moved closer I could see the Man’s face and I knew Him and He knew me. His face is indescribable. What man can He be compared to? He is the radiance of God’s glory. There is none like Him.

The hideous onlookers shriek in terror at His presence and fall back in chaos. Their cosmic colosseum collapses like the temple of Dagon and they flee from Him. They cannot endure to be near His humility and they tremble in fear at His power. The evil prince of darkness who had dared to show his hideous face is now petrified and flees from the hall. That imposter prince has already lost and will befall the most tragic unending end. His days are numbered. He knows that we know his time is running out. Christ has won.

As I am led away in chains to the prison, the holy blessed Jesus Christ, looks on me with love and compassion and in that moment I see in His eyes all of the sufferings He endured for me. The profundity of His love cannot be measured. He has renewed my strength so that I will not grow weary. Despite all that they have planned for me, He is my ever-present help. I know that whatever happens next, I can endure it for Him, because of Him, with Him.

Christ is the only thing worth having. Christ is the only thing worth living for. Christ is the only thing worth dying for when one is offered an ultimatum to renounce Him or die for Him. The riches, the power, the fame, the pleasures, the comforts of this world are not to be compared with the glory that will be revealed in us who are in Christ. For if we are faithful unto death, we will receive the crown of life.

I am lost for words. How can I even tell of the harrowing things I saw? How can I even describe the awful things I heard? How can I even make someone understand what I perceived in that place, that space, so far from everything that God had wanted for us?

I had made my bed in death, in Sheol, and He was there and He called me by name. On the wings of the morning and across the uttermost parts of the sea, I travelled incomprehensible distances to obey His voice. The Word of God said to me, “Come forth!” Straightaway I was restored to life by the sound of His voice. God breathed the breath of life into my nostrils and I lived. My eyes opened in obedience to the Lord of Powers. My heart, which had been hard as stone, was made soft by His miraculous love. My blood, which had been cold, was now warmed by the light of the Son. My lungs, which had not breathed in four days, inhaled as if I had been born again. The smell of my body had been transformed from death to that of incense. By His grace, I was made alive, made whole, restored to the life He intended me to have and healed by the power of His command. Even though I could not see for my eyes were covered by some cloth and my arms were bound by strips of cloth, I stood on my feet and walked towards my Creator, to the Giver and Restorer of my life. My mortal breath was hot on the cloth in front of my face. My feet could scarcely move for how tightly wound the strips of cloth were around my legs, but my feet knew the way out of this place. My grave had been opened and I had been raised up. The small rocks shifted under the weight of my feet as I stepped out into the light.

I heard gasps and the screams of joy and then people began to touch my arms to feel me and then they held me close. They reached up and took off the cloth covering my head and then the first thing I saw… was Him. He who called me out of darkness into His glorious light. He is the True Light. He looked into my eyes and I looked into His. My sisters held onto me with joy, touched my warm cheeks in disbelief, kissed my face with their tears-soaked lips, and spoke to me with voices quivering in wonder. My sweet sisters asked me things such as if I wanted something to drink, something to eat, somewhere to rest, some different clothes to wear. Martha and Mary’s loving voices were only a faint echo of Christ’s love for me. I loved Him with all my heart, soul, and strength for because of Him I had passed from death to life.

Though surrounded by people, I was alone in His presence and surrounded by His glory. As He looked on me, I fell into a pervading silence. Even though the palaces of hell were already being shaken, my heart was sorrowful for the souls I had seen there. However, within His gaze was a sorrow far more vast as it spanned all time for all the souls who would refuse His mercy and lovingkindness. I looked on Him in astonishment. Who is this Man of sorrows? Surely He has borne our griefs and on His shoulders He carries our sorrows. He has allowed me to share in only a fragment of His sorrow for mankind and now I think I shall never smile again.

What could I do from now on? I could not possibly go back to being the man I used to be. What could I say? Surely there is no subject in this world that interests me like it used to. How could I care about my clothes, the food I would eat next, the political developments, the gossip of my neighbors, or the lucrative ventures to be had? These earthly things have lost their flavor to my palate and now there is only one thing left to do now: I must proclaim this Son of Man - the Son of God to all people. I must teach transgressors His ways that they may return to Him. I must strengthen those in their faith in Him. I do not wish for any soul to enter that place that I had seen, but my heart aches for them to place their hope in Him Who is the Resurrection and the Life. Having been restored to life on this earth, how could I possibly go back to living for myself again? Indeed, Christ is the only thing worth living for. Having been dead and buried before, how could I ever fear death again? For if I live, I live to the Lord, and if I die, I die to the Lord. So whether I live or die, I am the Lord’s.

Walking in the night without illumination, I thought I knew the way. I followed the trail and remained steadily on course and then I felt the branch of a briar bush touch my hand softly, but it did not alarm me. I kept walking in the way that was right in my own eyes. I knew I should seek the Light instead of walking in darkness, but I continued headlong onto the path. In the distance, the Light shined in my night. When I looked at the radiant Light, I could see.

Once I began to ponder how I might walk in this holy Light, the thorny briars grabbed hold of my arms and legs. Now I could see them; the path into their trap was easy to follow and spaciously wide. The way out was narrow and leaving was going to be difficult. Though they had allowed me to walk in their midst without any interference, they would not allow me to leave without great deterrence. I could retreat back into their twisted arms or I could push forward towards the humble Light. I started to move away from them, but their thorns sunk into me. They beckoned me to accept the embrace of their ensnaring arms of destruction. They promised me no trouble if I stayed. They promised me no pain if I remained. They promised me no end to my desires if from the forgiving Light I walked away. With their lying lips, they promised me everything in exchange for everything.

But freedom in the True Light called to me and I was ready to answer that call. I wanted to lose everything here that I may gain the only thing worth having there. How could I throw away the freedom before me to stay in these worldly chains? Indeed, I wanted to be set free.

Without negotiation, without wavering, without hesitation, I plunged forward towards the transformative Light. It showed me the way and offered me new life. I kept my eyes on it careless of how the thorns ferociously tore at me. They held my feet, they ripped my clothes, they drew my blood. They could not restrain me if my heart was set on the Light. They could not detain me if my mind was purified by the Light. They could not intimidate me if I placed my hope in the Light.

I no longer belong to the briar’s unending night, but walk as a child of the Light.

What words can I say to the Potter? How can I tell Him how I ought to be made? How can I tell Him what to do and when? He needs no knowledge from me. He needs no counsel from me. I am the one who needs Him, yet He wants to work with me.

Though He could do all things by His all-powerful hand, He takes delight in working through His heavenly and earthly creations. Though He needs not my prayers, He listens to them so that I may align my will with His will. Through this divine communion of prayer, I am humbled in His presence. The hardness of my clay heart softens to His regenerative water on the wheel. Imperfect as I am, He could cut my pot off the wheel of life with His just cord, but instead He patiently guides me to give way to His molding.

My pride is pushed down and my will begins to be hollowed out to the touch of His hand in my life. I am spun round and round through the same temptations and with each rotation I am transformed a little more than before as He shapes me through the trials. My compunctive tears add a purifying water on the wheel and I am overflowing with love for my creative Potter. His goodness and mercy are upon me and I see the work of His hands everywhere. Undoubtedly I wish to remain in His house all the days of my life as He continues to shape me.

Yet… I love Him so imperfectly, so feebly, so unequally compared to His love for me. He pours out His love and mercy into my unworthy cup and I cannot contain it all. The immeasurable dispensation of His grace overflows into the wheel of my life. And this life has meaning, it has purpose, it has worth because of His love. Unworthy as I am, I do have one request of the Potter:

Would He expand the borders of my heart that I may love Him more? Would He enlarge my heart with His holy hands by pushing the walls of my cup outwards? Though I be filled to the brim and overflow, I wish to know a love for Christ greater than I have ever known.

In the darkness of the night, he climbed towards the mountaintop to where the light never ceased to shine. The light on the mountain of mercy was from a church and it’s light could not be quenched by the pressing darkness. His heart led him to climb higher and higher to reach it. Upon nearing the summit, he decided to find rest and saw a nearby cave that was darker still.

Stepping into the cave, immediately it was illumined by light. He descended down the steps and continued deeper until. To his dismay, he saw that his shoes had acquired much mud along the journey. These were far too unclean to take into the church, so he had to do something about it before he dared to set foot in the church. In the depths of this cave, there was a natural fountain with flowing water, he began rinsing his shoes and standing with his bare feet on the rock.

Layer after layer of mud was washed off of his shoes, but it seemed to be endless. No matter how hard he tried, he could not remove it entirely on his own. The thought then occurred to him that he was too dirty to venture into the church and he should leave this place and try again another time. However, this didn’t seem like wise counsel. If he left, he would no doubt acquire more mud on the journey back down. Should he ever attempt to return, he would once again return with even more mud than before. No, it seemed like that it had to be now.

He kept scrubbing and finally resigned himself to the fact that he could not wash away all the mud. When he looked down to put on his shoes again, he was horrified to see his pants were just as muddy. He then began to carefully scrub the mud marks on his clothes, but these stains weren’t going to come out. Sigh. There is mud on his shirt, on his coat, on his hands. What if he caused other people to become mud-stained because of what he tracked in to the church. Oh, this thought he could not suffer, he had to be clean, he must be clean. He could not endure the thought of leading someone into mud.

He put on his shoes and was about to leave the cave when he decided to rinse his face. As he cupped the water in his hands, he saw his reflection in the water like a mirror and indeed his face had been darkened with the marks of mud. His horrors had been revealed to him and he fled the cave. The light of the church called to him and his feet thudded across the sand colored stones as he ran. Terror attacked his soul that he was one of the five virgins who was locked out of the banquet and he ran quicker. With fervent prayers that the Lord would not shut him out and that the doors of repentance would be open to him. His prayers were heard and he opened the doors and entered the church.

He went inside the church reverently maintaining composure and knelt on the marble floors facing the altar. The time in the cave had shown him who he really was inside and out. He shuddered at the sight of the man he had become in both thought and deed. Lifting up his heart to Christ and with bitter burning tears he said, “Νίψον ἀνομήματα, μὴ μόναν ὄψιν. Wash my sins, not only my face.” His heart was broken before the Lord and crying out for His purifying grace.

In the dimly lit church, he crossed himself in awe of God. There were angelic chants to his left and his right. There was the smell of heavenly incense as the priests censed the altar and offered up prayers to God. His eyes rested on the icon of Christ as he awaited the opportunity to partake of the Holy Communion and he contemplated how he wanted to be like Christ; no longer as the man he saw in the cave’s revelatory self-reflection. He opened his mouth and received the mystery of True Food and True Drink and all of his senses were engaged in worship of the Most High God.

He wanted nothing from Christ, but Christ. To be like Him. To be with Him.

Glory to the Father and to the Son and to the Holy Spirit.

Open to me the doors of repentance O Giver of Life; for my spirit rises early to pray towards Your holy temple, bearing the temple of my body all defiled. But in Your compassion, purify me by the loving-kindness of Your mercy.

Now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen.

On a cold winter day up in the mountains, a boy was on holiday in a small village. There was no snow in the mountains yet, but the air was cold enough to see your breath and the boy had on a light coat, but not heavy enough to keep him warm for long in this weather. His lively family was laughing and chatting in the holiday cottage they were staying at, but he wanted to slip outside to pray. He told his family he was going to go outside to which they said it was too cold for that. He then revealed the real intent of his heart to go pray at the nearby church and then they paused, looked at each other, and gave permission instructing him not to be gone long.

This trip shouldn’t take him all that long. His heart was enraptured by the things of God and when he saw that little church up the narrow street, he wanted to go there. The church he had observed on the way into the village was preserved for historical purposes and not used for services anymore except for special occasions and this wasn’t one of them. He walked through the village called Panagia and up to the historical church, but he found all the doors locked. He peeked in through the cracks of the old wooden doors for any sign of someone being inside, but it was dark inside. He tried the doors again to be sure he didn’t need to pull the doors harder. They didn’t budge this time either.

He turned to leave in disappointment and then the wintery rain began to beat down on his light coat. He pulled up his hood and walked down the street where he spotted a cross peeking above the rooftops. “A cross up there must mean that there is another church nearby,” he thought to himself. So he walked more briskly down the winding street, turned left, and there it was: a much bigger church that would definitely be open for prayers.

He tried the door nearest him, but it was locked. His heart was struck with sadness, but he held out hope that the other side would be unlocked. He walked round the back of the church and to the other side. He found the side entrance with tall double doors. He just knew this one would open to him because his heart had led him here to pray. With both hands he pulled on the handle leaning his weight back as he did. But the door did not open. He pulled harder, but the deadbolt locking the doors refused to open to him.

A pang of anguish punctured his soul. He walked to the front corner of the church, but before rounding the corner, he was overcome with sorrow. With his back to the church wall, he slid down to the ground and shed tears as he prayed,

“How am I supposed to pray in the church if all of them are locked to me? Where am I to pray?”

With his head bowed low, he heard a woman ask him,

“Why are you crying?”

Without looking up at her because his face was red with shame and wet with tears, he buried his face in his knees and said,

“Because I wanted to pray in the church, but all of the doors were locked.”

As he finished the words two car doors slammed and footsteps were heard not too far away. She told him to “look” and he lifted up his face from his knees and peered round the corner of the church and there was a man with his wife at the front door of the church. The man inserted a key into the front door and with a click, click, the door was opened. The woman kindly told him “come” and offered her hand. Without looking at her face, but fully trusting her like a mother, he took her hand and she led him through the doors of the church.

Once inside, he let go of her hand and grabbed a beeswax candle to light it, but there were no other candles lit because the church had only just been opened. No matches to be found either. He looked round to see where he could light his candle, stepping over the floor tile formerly broken by a horse’s hoof, he spotted a flame in front of the iconostasis. The man who had opened the church with his wife was lighting a candle in front of the icon of the Theotokos. He walked up silently and lit his candle from that one. He carried his light and lit the candle in front of Christ and prayed for the world.

She worked hard all day long. The work was grimy in the restaurant kitchen as she scrubbed the dishes. Rubber gloves and dish soaps that can cut through any grease. She cleaned the dishes with metal brushes and sponges, rinsed them, and set them to the side. It was dinner time and there was a steady flow of dirty dishes which seemed to outpace how quickly she could wash. If she stopped for a break, the kitchen would come to a halt from all the piles of plates and bowls and cutlery. The kitchen is a rowdy place of tempers and unforgiving words, but she peacefully focuses on her work without judgment. She used her forearm to wipe the sweat on her forehead and prays for her coworkers and the dinner guests in silence.

The restaurant finally closes and she continues to clean the remaining dishes and then also cleans the countertops, floors, and more. It’s 10 o’clock and the lights go out. She’s headed home after a long day in a loud, hot kitchen and drives back in the darkness with some hymns playing very softly and some prayers being uttered quietly on her lips.

Once home, she sees her family has already gone to bed. Her younger brother and sister are fast asleep and she blows them kisses from the door so as not to wake them. She goes into the family kitchen and begins making meals for the following day for her brother, her sister, and herself. This was a task she took on years ago and even though her parents had tried to reclaim it once she started working, she refused to let it go because she appreciated being of service to her family. Acts of service made her feel… at home.

Lunches made and packed and put in the fridge, she checks the time. It’s well past 11 o’clock now. Her body is exhausted and is telling her to hurry up and shower, then go to bed. But her heart is telling her to talk to the one she loves the most and has been missing all day. She throws on a light coat, turns out the lights in the family kitchen, and quietly slips out the back door of the house. With arms crossed, she walks out onto the deck and descends down the steps onto the narrow paved path behind her house which leads into the woods. She looks back at her home and no lights have been turned on; so she must not have woken anyone up.

She walks on her family property past sweet smelling rose bushes, trees waving in the wind, and amidst the song of the crickets. The way is illumined by her father’s sun-powered lights along the path. She finally reaches her meeting place and there in the stillness and the quiet, she begins to pray. With focus, she descends in prayer and goes to a place where distractions from the day can no longer reach her. The thoughts of yesterday, the current day, or the day to come, aren’t able to distract her. The intrusive thoughts above fly overhead, but they cannot reach her here. She has taken a descent into pure prayer and total focus on Christ.

In this place, she pours out her heart without words and tells Him everything. She confesses her love for Him. She sings in adoration of His glory. She is washed clean from the day by the tears streaming down her cheeks. She sees Him not with physical eyes, but with faith she knows He’s there. She is in His presence and He hears her prayers.

I recently visited a monastery which took my breath away. It was all sand colored stone with red tiled roofs and domes with crosses atop. The ramp leading up to the monastery was also made of stone with a trellis overhead and life bursting forth out of the winter season. There were geraniums, bougainvilleas, and more life being planted. Flanked on either side were pools of water and a baptismal font to the left that was in a gazebo-styled peninsula surrounded by this man-made lake. Inside the monastery there were stone passages narrow enough for one person and around each corner there was another view of the cross. The church within the monastery was built over a cave and sat within the center of the monastery as the centerpiece of life. Inside the church there is an ancient cave which had been used for worship dating back 1,400 years ago. The monastics there had been martyred without any historical details for us to know their names, but only recently was this site rediscovered and being revived into its former glory. The land surrounding the church was built up in multiple levels with all types of trees bearing abundant fruit in its orchard.

Upon speaking with the monks I learned the more recent and inspiring story of this monastery. Some 14 years ago a man had given his life over to sinful passions and the use of drugs to the point of nearly destroying himself. People were scared of him and wanted nothing to do with him. At the end of his rope while in the hospital, he got a visitor. It was an Orthodox Christian monk-priest who found the man in a wild drugged state and not in his right mind. The hieromonk told him,

“Your father was a builder, so you know how to build things too. I need you to build a chapel on top of a cave for me.”

Without any form of judgment or attempt to evangelize the man, the hieromonk took him under his wing and believed in him. While the man worked on the church, the hieromonk taught him about Christ, repentance, how to resist the temptations and with time, overcoming the addictive and enslaving passions. After seeing the work of his hands on the church and starting to lead a repentant life, he found the confidence and courage to keep building, and building, and building. More and more people came to help in the effort. The once wild man was given the Christian name John for John the Baptist. God transformed his life from unruly and destructive to self-controlled and peaceful. From lonely and abandoned to married and loved. From having no one to care for to having three children with his wife. First he and others built the church, then the rest of the monastery with small lakes and bridges and walkways through gardens. The people all worked together to create something with John that was bigger than themselves. They built it for Christ so that everyone in the community could come there and pray, worship, and find a solace.

He and many others with him built that monastery with their own hands. In fact, the monks told me that the people built 80% of the monastery with 20% of the effort being done by the five monks. While the monks could have gone fundraising to companies and bigger institutions to raise money and finish the monastery quickly, they refused to do that. They wanted to work with the people so that when it was complete, they could say that it was built by the people.

Years ago I had misunderstood monasticism to be too withdrawn and potentially not fulfilling the call to go and baptize all nations in the name of the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit. I had thought that the funds given to them were supporting a lifestyle for monks to be isolated from people and thus missing out on their evangelistic calling. Yet, over time I learned how very integrated with the community they really are and how welcoming they are. Their churches have even more opening hours than our own local churches. They feed the hungry, they pray for the sick, they house the pilgrims, they share the Gospel message with those who want to know, and pray for everyone in the world. Some monasteries even double as orphanages or places for people to seek spiritual deliverance. This monastery and many others I have visited are not withdrawn and they are not closed off from the world. Instead they are a light upon a hill which cannot be hidden. Their selfless light calls out to the world to come to Christ.

I was invited in to the refectory to eat with them and was fed like a king by the local women who sat at the table with me and the hieromonk. There was love and kindness which could not be faked. There was no false hospitality in anyone’s eyes or service. In fact, they were zealous for good works. When I tried to help, they did not want me to do all the helping. They wanted to share in the works of service so that everyone could have a hand in serving one another. It was like a musical chairs of serving one another with sincerity and love. They were innocent as doves and good as they come. But while I ate in their refectory, John continued to work outside.

I visited him while he mixed cement and laid stones and spoke with him about his work. He was so full of joy and happiness. Having seen the depths of darkness, there seemed to be nothing that could steal that light of Christ from him now. I asked him if he was buying the supplies and he was reluctant to offer it up, but eventually he told me that it was not his company buying the supplies, but his everyday money. I learned from the monks that God had transformed him into the joyful man I now see. People had once been afraid of him, but now they trusted him. They would call him up to do construction work for them. Christ had transformed him from a man that people avoided to a joyful man that the community adored. John’s offering to God was his skill as a builder, his money for supplies, and the sacrifice of his time. As I left the monastery, I marveled to see the Holy Spirit leading the work of the people. I can only imagine what it would be like to participate in a liturgy with them one Sunday in that tiny cave.

I was reflecting recently with my wife about the call to forgiveness to which we have been called to.

Matthew 6:14-15 - For if you forgive others their trespasses, your heavenly Father will also forgive you, but if you do not forgive others their trespasses, neither will your Father forgive your trespasses.

When someone hurts, wrongs, harms, or injures us or someone we care about, we likely don’t feel inclined to forgive them. We might even think that by withholding our forgiveness we are in some way punishing them and inflicting our own form of justice upon them. This rarely causes the other person to understand that we are attempting to silently punish them. The end result is that we inflict damage to our own soul, not theirs.

Yet, we have been called to something greater than unforgiveness, grudges, or resent. We have been called to lay aside ourselves and to forgive others.

Matthew 18:21-22 - Then Peter came up and said to Him, “Lord, how often will my brother sin against me, and I forgive him? As many as seven times?” Jesus said to him, “I do not say to you seven times, but seventy-seven times.”

It almost seems unfathomable to think of someone offending us an innumerable amount of times and then we willingly, patiently, forgive them every time. However, we see just that in the life of Christ during His ministry. A triumphant example of God’s forgiveness is when He was crucified on the cross and He sought the forgiveness of those who wronged Him. We see the same manifestation of forgiveness in the words of St. Stephen as he was being martyred when he prayed that the sin of his murderers not be held against them. Again, in the life of St. Dionysios of Zakynthos who forgave his brother’s murderer and did not turn him in for justice, but spared his life. And again, St. John the Almsgiver, the Patriarch of Alexandria, one time remembered how there was a grievance between him and a priest. So he left during a church service to seek the priest’s forgiveness in the matter. Only then did the patriarch return to the church and finish the liturgy.

All of these events demonstrate not only unconditional forgiveness, but that this radical forgiveness cost them something. It cost St. Stephen his own life to follow Christ and to forgive his persecutors. It cost St. Dionysios the opportunity to enforce justice because he chose forgiveness and mercy instead. It cost St. John the Almsgiver some reputational damage as people around town would have speculated why he left the church to seek someone’s forgiveness.

These individuals sat down and counted the cost of serving Christ and choosing to forgive without any excuses or limitations. They would have had to been living out a life of forgiveness each and every day leading up to these remarkable moments. For example, St. Stephen would not have been a revengeful man and then suddenly become a saintly forgiver in the face of martyrdom. No, he would have been working out his salvation each and every day through his life of service, forgiveness, and love. St. Dionysios could not have forgiven his brother’s murderer if he was frequently harboring grudges against people for how they wronged him. No, he would have been tested in this virtue over and over until the point of demonstrating mercy and forgiveness to the worst offender. And St. John the Almsgiver would not have been so receptive to the Holy Spirit’s leading to seek out forgiveness if he had been previously quenching the Holy Spirit and justifying himself whenever there were misunderstandings.

Do we as followers of Christ understand our calling to forgiveness? Have we sat down and counted the cost of how much we may be asked to forgive others just as Christ has forgiven us of so much? Have we counted the cost of how hard it might be, could be, and will be to become like Him?

It might be easy to overlook the suffering that these saints had to endure and the internal anguish they might have felt in these moments of turmoil. What horror to endure being hated and stoned to death. What heart-wrenching sorrow and fury to meet your brother’s murderer who seeks safe harbor from you. How humbling to seek out the forgiveness from a lowly, local priest. Yet, these saints were fully human as we are and would have no doubt considered the easy way out, the path of least resistance, or the option that was most self-satisfying. Instead, they chose to follow Christ on a daily basis, they persevered through the trials, they let God’s grace work in their lives, and they let God lead them to radically forgive and seek forgiveness.

It cost these saints dearly, but they were willing to be transformed into the image and likeness of Christ one degree at a time, one day a time, one trial at a time. They knew they were being called to be like Christ over everything else. Being called to forgive one another as God in Christ forgave them.

Every day I build a life of repentance and with my own hands I tear it apart.

What wretched thorns beset me day after day and how I wish I could pluck them out.

How can I approach the chalice with these sinful lips and not be condemned?

Am I not a sinful, unworthy man?

Only You, O Lord, if You are willing, can make me clean.

Only You, O Lord, if You are willing, can purify me.

Only You, O Lord, if You are willing, can save me.

If You but touch these lips, then my iniquity will be taken away.

If You allow me to partake of Your Mysteries, then I will be healed.

If You abide in me and I abide in You, then my life will be fulfilled.

I was visiting a monastery and having an unhurried, deliberate, edifying discussion with one of the monks about prayer. After every question, he thoughtfully remained silent, and then carefully chose his words. When my time was coming to an end at the monastery, the monk asked me to visit another monk back home. He said that it was okay if I forgot his name, but don’t forget the name of the other monk that I needed to speak to. He reiterated the importance of the other person’s name and how his own name wasn’t important to remember.

Well I didn’t forget either of their names and off I went not thinking much about the last comment. He must have known it was better for me to find the right person and even if I forgot his own name. His fellow monk would put two and two together and know who I was talking about.

Skipping ahead, I’m working with a large group of people trying to serve hundreds of incoming customers. The team of workers know each other, but not all of us know each other by name. We have to work together because our teamwork with one another is critical to our success in serving these customers and being a Christ-like witness.

Occasionally we make quick introductions and small talk with one another and then get back to work. As the flow of customers increases, there’s no time for chit chat and only time for fast paced work. In the rush of work, I was called by the wrong name and I gently let them know my correct name. Not an issue, I get names wrong too and it’s very busy. Then another person calls me by the wrong name. I don’t correct this person and I let it go because it doesn’t matter. We have work to do. Then another person who I was sure would know me by name indeed did not. There were three people all calling me different names, but I didn’t correct any of them as the day progressed into days because it allowed me to reflect on the experience. This is about serving others and not my own personal recognition.

I thought to myself, “my name isn’t important. Why should I insist that people know who I am? I’m not important.” I mulled over these thoughts and contemplated how even John the Baptist was willing to be left behind, forgotten, and of no importance compared to Christ. I then recalled the monk who knew that his own name wasn’t important in the grand scheme of things. It was okay if I forgot him and others forgot about him. He didn’t regard himself worthy of remembrance.

This life is not about me or my success, my mark on history, my legacy, my recognition, my anything. It’s all about Christ. It’s about becoming like Christ and showing His love to everyone. He must increase, but I must decrease.

It’s far too easy to size someone up, generate a first impression of them in our minds, and come to a conclusion about someone by their appearances, or a quick exchange of words, or observing their non-verbals. We look at them with our eyes and hear with our ears, but we don’t fully understand the person across from us. They are a whole world of experiences that we are not privy to, but yet, we are so inclined to assess someone in an instant to judge them. Once we yield to thoughts of judgment about another person, then every future interaction has the potential to become another opportunity to confirm the bias that we are looking for.

However, this external analysis is not how God sees us. He doesn’t see us as the person that we try to present to everyone else. He sees who we truly are in our innermost thoughts, contemplations, aspirations, insecurities, and shortcomings. He looks in our hearts and has compassion on us. For when no one else understands us or they keep getting us wrong, Christ can get us right.

Despite all of the mistakes we have made, the idiosyncrasies we have, the pain we’ve been through, and the learned behaviors, God sees a person He created and He loves us dearly. It was not enough for Him to simply express His love for us with words or writings, but He showed His love by dying on the cross for us and overcoming death that we may have life in Him.

He knocks at the door of our hearts and if we open to Him, He enters into that microcosm of our existence. He is willing to work with us, show mercy towards us, and impart His grace in our lives. If we open the door to Him, He enters our world and can heal us. He can heal our hearts and minds. He can change us with His redemptive love and save us.

But why would the Lord of all creation want to love us and show His kindness towards us? Because He can see us as we truly are. He knows what we can be by His grace. He can see our full potential, He understands our pain, He knows our suffering, He hears our weeping, and He knows our worries. He doesn’t see us as other people see us who misunderstand us, but He knows who we are, who we have been, and who we will be. Everything about us is open and visible before Him and how wonderful that is. For He is not someone who cannot understand our suffering or empathize with our pain, but He knows us intimately having become incarnate Himself. “For we do not have a high priest who is unable to sympathize with our weaknesses, but one who in every respect has been tempted as we are, yet without sin” (Hebrews 4:16). He discerns our thoughts, our anxieties, our hopes, and everything that has happened in our lives which has molded us into the person we are now and He is not deterred from loving us.

What if God granted to us the gift of being able to see into the hearts of one another? Would we still judge each other? Would we condemn one another? Or would we be immeasurably humbled to see how much people are suffering and fighting their own battles which we know nothing about? Would our own hearts hurt with pain and love for one another? Would the experiences of others make us understand them infinitely better so that we could truly love them as we ought? Would we pour out our hearts in earnest prayer for them?

"True Christians, in the souls of whom Christ lives, are unable to do anything else except love all people, even enemies." - St. Porphyrios

Oh my Betrothed, You found me in my most dire wretchedness and had compassion on me by proposing Your sacrificial love for me. Crying out for deliverance, I drew near to You and You drew near to me.

Oh my Betrothed, how my soul pants for You. The first fruits of praise on my lips I give to You. The song in my chest I sing for You. The prayer of my heart is to You. The dance of my steps is for You.

Oh my Betrothed, I do not work for the world’s perishable offerings, but I labor by Your grace to cultivate an internal virtuous beauty that I may present a pure and faithful heart to You as a dowry.

Oh my Betrothed, I will wait for You. The many gifts of the world attempt to separate us and defile Your temple. I will keep myself unspotted from the world. My love for You will not be cast aside, but will be held high.

Oh my Betrothed, I am restrained from going to You. I am confined by what is temporal from going to what is immortal. May I be crucified with You, O Christ, that it is no longer I who live, but Christ who lives in me bringing me into the newness of life.

Oh my Betrothed, You have borne the reproach outside the city gate, despising the shame. Let me come to You that I may partake in Your reproach just as Your holy mother and the disciple whom You loved came to Your cross during Your passion.

Oh my Betrothed, You have emptied Yourself on the cross. What greater love has a man than to lay down his life for his beloved? You have died for us and You have conquered death itself. How undeserving am I of such a love.

Oh my Betrothed, I hear Your words and I come running. If You knock at the door I will open to You. If You unlatch my nous then my heart will be thrilled. Return quickly and do not delay. Or let me come to where You are.

Oh my Betrothed, the people abuse me in my search for You. Where are You, O Lord? Do not take Your Holy Spirit from me, but teach me the way I should go. If only they knew You, then they would not hate You, but would join me in this search for You.

Oh my Betrothed, set me as a seal upon Your heart and forget me not in my sufferings. O Lord, do not forsake me. Many waters cannot quench my love for You; neither can the floods of evil drown it.

Oh my Betrothed, my life is far spent. Bring me into Your Father’s banqueting house for it is only with You that my soul will find rest. Lead me into Your garden of abundant life which ever-flows with the wellsprings of Your grace.

Oh my Bridegroom, these unworthy and sinful eyes cannot look on You for it overwhelms me. If Your love wills it, let me see Your face, let me hear Your voice. If Your love wills it, transform me that I may see You as You are.