Do I Really Want to Know Who God Is?

When Orthodoxy first crossed my path in a real way, I found myself struggling with a bit of an identity crisis. My brother had converted (along with half a dozen or so trusted friends) - and I was starting to feel an inner tug to learn more.

The trouble is, as soon as you start learning more about something you're not, the tendency is to justify that you're perfectly fine the way you are. At least, that was my experience.

As I looked at Orthodoxy, I saw a lot of my own practices that would have to change if I ever (really, seriously) considered converting. And I didn't like the idea of change. For example, I'd have to embrace liturgy, confession, and a whole host of other things I had always firmly rejected. Things like...

• Regimented daily prayer and regular fasting....isn't that just "works religion"?
• A literal "communion of saints," including patron saints, icons, prayers to Mary....isn't that diverting worship away from Jesus and onto people who don't deserve our worship?
• Sacraments....aren't those close to superstition? (I mean, logically, the bread and wine stays bread and wine.) 
• A claim to be the only true, historic church. Man, this one is hard to swallow when you've become a card-carrying non-denominational believer. After all, isn't the "golden rule" of modern Christianity that we don't claim that any one denomination has it completely right? We are all under God's saving grace....we enjoy "unity in diversity"....we should "major on the majors, and minor on the minors," and so on. 

These are dangerous waters if you've grown up as an Evangelical Protestant. 

But for the life of me, I couldn't escape one nagging question: "Do I really want to know God, no matter what?" 

This question became a burning fire that I could not extinguish. I knew I had been selfish in the way I had always approached this question, preferring my own comfort above all else. And so I wondered: Do I have the courage to put myself aside and really pursue God, no matter the costs? 

For several years, I lived in that inner turmoil - pitching and tossing on a sea of uncertainty, but too stubborn to really look God in the eye.

(If God had some hidden closet that I didn't know about, I would really prefer that it stay hidden.)

I am touched to think that, despite my sinful motives - my fear and stubbornness and pride - God drew me up out of that pit anyway. I don't truly know how or why, but I feel I can now answer, "YES, I DO want to know God - no matter WHAT."

God won that inner wrestling match. If I have to choose between myself and my savior, I choose Him. Having that matter settled gave me some inner peace. I felt free to pursue God without fear of what I might find.

Back to Orthodoxy: Why even take a second look? 



It's a faith that is ancient, rich, and cohesive. The well-documented traditions date back to the time of the first church, and no foundational doctrines have been changed since that time. It's so rich, in fact, that I feel at a loss for words anytime I start in and try to "sum it up."
(It would struggle to fit on a Bible tract!)

"Why Orthodoxy?" I hope you'll get glimpses of the answer to that question through future blog postings. If you'd like, you can google it now to see what others are saying. :)

It's kind of like Narnia...

I feel like I've been looking through a key-hole at a world completely foreign to me. First I just glanced at it, and it was easy to turn away. I was even relieved to turn away, because what I saw through that keyhole seemed like it might be able to change my life. That sounded risky. Better stay away.

But I soon grew comfortable studying the world beyond the keyhole. I read books to learn about the perspectives, customs, beliefs, and stories of that world, which was beginning to richly unfold before my eyes.

And now, I have my eye pressed tightly against that keyhole, taking in as much as I can from this side of the door, enjoying each sound and scent that wafts through that small opening.

And suddenly, I'm aware that I'm different.

It's as though I've passed through the wardrobe, discomforting as it may have been, and now find myself a Narnian. Remember when Narnia felt like home to the children, and the Wardrobe and the Spare Room were but memories?

I feel similarly. It's an experience that is very hard to quantify.

Somehow, in many ways, Orthodoxy - the world beyond the keyhole - has come to feel like home. And so I find myself feeling like a foreigner in my own land, without a way to explain to my fellow men anything that I've seen or heard. (And if I could explain it, as Lucy tried to do - perhaps no one would believe me?)  It feels like too much to grasp, too much to share, too much to explain.

And so here I am, starting this blog, trying to recount some of the things I've experienced. I'm an unworthy messenger, but the message is of such great value that I have to give it a shot.