When I was inquiring into the Eastern Orthodox Church I wrote a dairy about my journey titled "Into The Abyss". It was very much a stream of consciousness depending on what was on my mind and heart at the time, although it was edited a bit from time to time.
This article is an interview of another American convert to Orthodoxy who was also introduced to Christianity very young as a Southern Baptist.
He shares and expresses his similar experience with mine much better than I have been able to when asked "Why did you become Orthodox?".
"
I’d like to say I could give you two reasons, but I can really only give you one. The only reason a person should convert to Orthodoxy is because they believe it to be the “one holy, catholic, and apostolic Church” (as confessed in the Creed). Because they believe it to be the fullness of God (Eph. 1:23), the pillar and foundation of the truth (1 Tim. 3:15), and the temple of the living God (2 Cor. 6:16). Because they believe that there, in a unique and complete way, they can encounter and learn to become like Jesus Christ.
Until or unless someone has that singular conviction, all other reasons—beautiful worship, a good grasp on Church history, the Church fathers, the chanting and hymnography, even (with a nod to Seinfeld and George Costanza) “the hats”—are merely icing on the cake. In fact, I have seen a lot of unfortunate and even spiritually tragic stories unfold, in which a person or family converts to Orthodoxy for all the wrong reasons."
Gabe Martini. From Baptist to Orthodox: My Journey of Faith
Sunday, July 19, 2015
Thursday, April 16, 2015
The Culture War Is Over
Keeping this blog alive as a link to others I find illuminating, entertaining, or informative is the best I can do for now.
The Culture War Is Over
The Culture War Is Over
Wednesday, April 15, 2015
Fate and Freedom
More from David. I have not read his blog in a while, it looks like I've been missing some good stuff.
Fate And Freedom
Fate And Freedom
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Christ Is Risen !!
"Christ is risen from the dead, trampling down death by death, and upon those in the tombs bestowing life"
Voices of Paschal Joy
Voices of Paschal Joy
Tuesday, March 31, 2015
Wednesday, February 11, 2015
Part 2...
Crap, what a depressing post that last one was. I just couldn't leave it at the top, even if I don't have much new to write.
Writing inspired by pain and struggle might make good art for some, but too much of a bad thing really suks...heh..
Hopefully more later.....
Writing inspired by pain and struggle might make good art for some, but too much of a bad thing really suks...heh..
Hopefully more later.....
Monday, December 15, 2014
Jealousy
Malcolm The Cynic recently posted about jealousy on his blog: My Fatal Flaw.
What he wrote really struck a nerve with me. Pride? Yes. Lust? Yes. Selfishness? Yes, but jealousy being at the root core of my sin? Had not occurred to me until reading his raw, honest account of discovering the dark, green flow in his own soul.
And so it is here, with me, one of many heavy weights pulling me down. Especially now, today, December 15th 2014. It is the day after what should be a joyous anniversary, with loving exchanges of simple gifts, and and sharing happy smiles and playful glances.
But it's not.
In my late 30's my doctor diagnosed me with mild SAD: seasonal adjustment disorder. From Fall to Spring I tend to fall into a funk. The dark stays longer, temperatures cool, and most of the time I want to get away from everything and curl up in warm bed in a dark corner like a grouchy bear hibernating for the Winter. It's been almost 3 years since my family was torn apart and my yearly struggle made even worse, at times feeling unbearable, and hopeless.
Facebook really adds to the hurt. Every post of pictures, with smiling faces and happy families gathered around food, drinks, and presents just feel like knives digging deep into my back, pushing me down into a thick mire of regret, and bitter.......jealousy.
I long for what other's have, or at least appear to have. I suspect there is an underlying sense of entitlement, somehow I should have and experience what they do. The fact that I'm painfully aware of the lives I've both earned and failed to earn doesn't help at all.
But today on Facebook someone posted a link to a broadcast of "Fresh Air" on NPR about a Punk Rock drummer from D.C. who made a profound and timely connection to ancient Christian (and some Muslim) music in Syria. I found it to be sorrowful and hopeful. Sorrow concerning the tragic fate of communities of faith being systematically uprooted and scattered, if not completely exterminated, and hopeful that God is showering grace and mercy upon them and miracles may await. Although His instrument and servant of love is not armies or governments with treaties or wars, but a Yankee punk rocker on NPR.
I invite you to listen to the whole thing. The first piece of music shared during the interview is a Muslim chant, but there are some examples of what may be the oldest existing Christian songs and chant later in the broadcast.
What he wrote really struck a nerve with me. Pride? Yes. Lust? Yes. Selfishness? Yes, but jealousy being at the root core of my sin? Had not occurred to me until reading his raw, honest account of discovering the dark, green flow in his own soul.
And so it is here, with me, one of many heavy weights pulling me down. Especially now, today, December 15th 2014. It is the day after what should be a joyous anniversary, with loving exchanges of simple gifts, and and sharing happy smiles and playful glances.
But it's not.
In my late 30's my doctor diagnosed me with mild SAD: seasonal adjustment disorder. From Fall to Spring I tend to fall into a funk. The dark stays longer, temperatures cool, and most of the time I want to get away from everything and curl up in warm bed in a dark corner like a grouchy bear hibernating for the Winter. It's been almost 3 years since my family was torn apart and my yearly struggle made even worse, at times feeling unbearable, and hopeless.
Facebook really adds to the hurt. Every post of pictures, with smiling faces and happy families gathered around food, drinks, and presents just feel like knives digging deep into my back, pushing me down into a thick mire of regret, and bitter.......jealousy.
I long for what other's have, or at least appear to have. I suspect there is an underlying sense of entitlement, somehow I should have and experience what they do. The fact that I'm painfully aware of the lives I've both earned and failed to earn doesn't help at all.
But today on Facebook someone posted a link to a broadcast of "Fresh Air" on NPR about a Punk Rock drummer from D.C. who made a profound and timely connection to ancient Christian (and some Muslim) music in Syria. I found it to be sorrowful and hopeful. Sorrow concerning the tragic fate of communities of faith being systematically uprooted and scattered, if not completely exterminated, and hopeful that God is showering grace and mercy upon them and miracles may await. Although His instrument and servant of love is not armies or governments with treaties or wars, but a Yankee punk rocker on NPR.
I invite you to listen to the whole thing. The first piece of music shared during the interview is a Muslim chant, but there are some examples of what may be the oldest existing Christian songs and chant later in the broadcast.
Before War, A Punk Drummer Preserved Syrian Chants
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