Saint Chryse (Zlata) of Bulgaria

One of the cornerstone beliefs in my Christianity has always been a mistrust of any sort of elevation of Saints. They are just people - they should NOT be prayed to, must NOT be worshipped (which I thought was synonymous with praying to them), and in general, we shouldn't give them too much consideration.

Tonight I was randomly reading about St. Chryse (Zlata) of Bulgaria. (Don't ask me how I discovered her - it was really random. Ok, I'll tell you: I was looking for baby names!)



Zlata lived in the 18th century. In the year 1795, she was kidnapped by a Turkish man who was obsessed with her. He tried to seduce her and to get her to convert to Islam. She refused, so he changed his tactics and began threatening her. She still refused, so he tortured her - for months and months. Apparently, it became almost like a game of wills. Finally, after being enraged that he had been bested by a woman at this "game," he and some other men tied her to a tree and cut her to bits.

This woman's suffering was truly gruesome. She was beaten with clubs, strips of skin were pulled from her body, and a heated skewer was "passed through her ears." She was begged by her family to relent and simply deny Christ, "for the sake of appearances," but she refused.

My first thoughts when I read about this woman went something like this:
- Gosh, I really wish I had chosen a saint with a more uplifting story to read about.
- This is yucky - I'd like to start thinking about something else as soon as possible.
- Man I'm glad we're not at risk of being martyred these days.
- What kind of name is "Zlata" anyway - not a very good baby name.

But then, far weightier thoughts settled in:
- Wow. WOW. This woman and her sacrifice must be so prized by God. The angels must have sung her praises when she entered heaven. Perhaps it's not so crazy for us to honor her here on earth, too. If we want to become like Christ, perhaps we should strive to honor what He honors.
- What an EXAMPLE. Here I am, struggling to say "no" under so slight a temptation as sinful thoughts, slothful idleness, bitterness, selfishness....but she had to fight daily against the temptation to deny her Lord and save her physical body from such agony. What commitment. What resolve. What belief.

The more I think of her, the more I WANT to think of her - because she is becoming a source of strength to me. Her example is strengthening my resolve to cling to Christ no matter what, just as she did. Just as an inspiring older brother or sister in Christ (who is living) can be such an encouragement in my life, so these saints and martyrs can encourage and inspire and draw us closer to Christ.

And that, I'm thinking, is what it's all about. The stories of Saints help complete the picture of becoming Christlike, being themselves noteworthy members of the body of Christ.

Dwelling on the story of a Saint doesn't detract from the story of Christ, as I was taught. Instead, the blessed Saints help point the way to Christ. They are a beacon along the journey of life, illuminating more clearly what it looks like to follow God here on earth - in every century, on every continent, and in every life circumstance. Together, their stories echo throughout the centuries and proclaim the true God. (How very sad to have ignored this great choir of witnesses for so long!) 

And as for worshiping them? That was a misunderstanding, or perhaps an over-reaction to perceptions of common Catholic practice in some places. Perhaps some people worshiped Saints or got too superstitious with their saintly icons or prayers. But the actual dogma of Orthodoxy describes prayer to a Saint as the same thing as petitioning a living friend to pray for us - except this "friend" is no longer living. And - oh yeah - they're enjoying communion with God, right now. If we truly believe in "the communion of saints," perhaps asking these experienced Christians for their prayers is not such a bad idea!

Embracing Mystery

Western thinking is so deeply ingrained in us that, most of the time, we can't even identify the lens through which we see the world. We can't take this lens off our faces, examine it, and determine its validity - because to us, it simply is.

One such "norm" of Western thinking is a certain degree of rationalism. And from that rationalism, we feel an inborn need to make sure that whatever we do, whatever we say, and most importantly whatever we believe all stem from logical conclusions based on reasonable facts.

The way this translates into Christianity? The bridge diagram. Careful blueprints of various passages of scripture, picking apart each word to carefully define concepts like predestination, salvation, redemption - typically mapped out linearly on the page so that you can easily comprehend with your intellect every detail of the process. So that it provides a tight explanation. So that it makes SENSE.

Other things impacted by rationalism are simply the way we perceive the text. The way we understand basic concepts like indebtedness and forgiveness and repentance. These are all colored by our rationalist cultural indoctrination. It's not bad that we see life through this lens, but it'd be a mistake to ignore its influence. As we seek to understand the gospel, the only lens we have to look through is incredibly colored by our own imperceptible worldview.

Unless - we take the time to look through somebody else's lens.

Orthodoxy is very rational in that it does make sense - it's not all over the place like a crazy person made it up. But it's not rationalistic. That is, instead of placing a high premium on intellectual knowledge of any kind, Orthodoxy celebrates mystery.

In Orthodoxy and Heterodoxy, Father Damick writes, "Orthodox dogma never claims to expound the whole truth about anything, but only delineates the borders of the mystery."

God does not owe us any explanations, nor is he compelled to fit into our systems of understanding.

But that doesn't sit well with us, because of our conditioning to be rationalists. We want a system that explains, as fully as humanly possible, the gospel message. We want to know, most importantly, who is "in" and who is "out." We want to go to bed at night knowing that our system of theology has a long arm and a ready defense.

So, many of us stick with Calvinism. :)

Clark Carlton, former Baptist seminarian turned Orthodox, says that "you won't find a more beautiful system of theology than Calvinism." If you want a logical, thorough, clear-cut theological framework, Calvin's your guy. But, Carlton says, a system like Calvinism "puts a lid on God." It creates a careful framework which helps us feel more comfortable as we fluff our pillows at night, but it boxes God in. It adds a roof where there should be none, and perhaps more importantly, it creates a method of self-soothing for us as His creation -  who should instead remain filled with awe and a healthy fear of God.

I think it might do us some good to step back and remember that God isn't caged by our perception of His reality. He can do literally anything he wants. But when I mention this concept to friends, I sometimes get the response, "Sure, God can do whatever he wants, naturally - but it's God who wrote the rules, so I don't think He'll go and change them." But if we look closely, we'll find that we're assuming our system is an accurate perception of "God's rules." What if it's lopsided? Or even worse, what if it's just plain wrong?

Orthodox faith "delineates the borders of the mystery." So, we know some things with certainty. We know that Jesus is the son of God. We know that other "gods" are NOT the same as the true God. And of course there are a host of other things we can know fully and for sure, and the Orthodox church will not waiver (and I mean they WILL NOT WAIVER) on any of these. But one cornerstone of the Orthodox understanding of God is an awe and reverence for the incomprehensible mystery that is the fullness of Him.

While Orthodox are committed beyond question to the truths that God has revealed, they at the same time refuse to define that which is beyond definition. 

So - Who is in? Who is out? Only God knows with certainty. Lord, have mercy upon us. 

In my soul, it makes sense to me that THIS is the God whom we serve. A God far too big, too mysterious, too dangerous, too consuming to ever comprehend or define or diagram. (All of a sudden, the practice of regular bowing seems to make a lot more sense, too - who wouldn't willingly bow to the ground under so weighty a presence?)

What IS worship, anyway?

I don't know how I've made it this long without blogging about worship!

Seriously - this should have been the very first post, because it's probably the first thing that really compelled me to look deeper into Orthodoxy. The church history stuff is compelling, but I'm not a history buff, so my natural inclinations didn't start there. But WORSHIP  - that seems pretty central to the Christian existence.

So - what about worship?

To me, "good worship" always meant "good quality music" - that is, music that I personally enjoy, connect with, and/or that sounds moving. Emotionally moving lyrics, cool melodies/harmonies, and great female solo parts where you can really belt it out.

Orthodox worship can feel very strange for a first-timer (it did for me!) - because it has none of those things. But once you get over feeling "weird" in this ancient style of worship, it starts to really feel a whole lot more like WORSHIP - unadulterated by the things I prioritize, unaffected by the strengths or weaknesses of the choral group, uninhibited by preferences in musical style.

Orthodox liturgy includes a ton of repetition of key phrases, like "Lord have mercy," and "Glory to thee oh God, glory to thee," and "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal." Phrases that are obviously and overtly worshipful in nature.

And, while there is a brief homily (sermon) where the Priest delivers a teaching, the bulk of the 2 hour long service is actually composed of this kind of worship. The liturgical style is sometimes chant-like but often more like singing. There is always a choir, ranging from a few people to 10 or more, who lead the congregation in worship. They're usually positioned off to the side of the room, in a position where all can hear them but where none will be giving them much visual attention. The eyes of the worshipers are instead drawn toward the large icons at the front of the room - reminders of Christ on the cross, the last supper as a picture of communion, and so on. Visually reminders of the cornerstones of their faith.

The thing that first struck me about Orthodox worship is how God-centered it is. And it is very thorough in this regard. It is "Trinity-centered" - almost constantly naming the Father, Son, and Holy Spirit.

By contrast, I started to notice that the worship at the church I was attending (while it may have been heart-felt) seemed very "people-centered."

I started to pay closer attention, and I noticed that many of the songs, while they were generally positive and uplifting, failed to mention God at all. They really couldn't be placed in the same category as phrases like "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal."

So, depending on the smattering of songs chosen for any given week, it'd be theoretically possible to go to church, "worship," leave church, and never mention the name of God during worship.

This cannot be right, I started to think to myself. This cannot be the same thing as worship. 

One popular song that was sung regularly for several months goes like this:

We are the light of the world! We are a city on a hill. We are the light of the world! We gotta, we gotta, we gotta let the light shine.

And another example:

The voice of truth tells me a different story. The voice of truth says 'Do not be afraid.' The voice of truth says 'This is for my glory.' Out of all the voices calling out to me - I will choose to listen and believe the voice of truth.

You could argue that the above songs are affirming to the Christian. They are probably even "true." But are they WORSHIP?

I know, you might think that I'm straining at gnats. But the problem I see is this: If we don't have any sort of guidelines for what IS worship and what is NOT worship, how on earth can we hope to attain one of the chief ends of man - to worship our God?

I also began to see that in the past, worship had been about ME. What made me feel good? What tugged at my heartstrings? What invoked an emotional response from me? These were my measuring sticks.

I felt ashamed, then, when I recognized that my worship had been me-centered. If my aim in coming to church is to worship God in a corporate setting, then my preferences about worship literally have no place whatsoever in the discussion. It's about God. It's ALL about God. And the minute I've taken even an iota of the focus off of God and placed it onto my own feelings and preferences, I've lost something. I've lost everything.

Of course, like many things, there's a continuum here. We recently became members of a Presbyterian church. Because they're one of the "high churches" of Protestantism, they're liturgical instead of contemporary. Sometimes their liturgy even includes little bits and pieces of things you'd see in the Orthodox service, like the "Trisagion" - "Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal One, have mercy upon us."

It's so simple. So simple that you might think we've got to jazz it up a little. It's a little outdated - right? But there is something about this simple style of worship that draws the heart to God.

Once when the Trisagion appeared in the Presbyterian liturgy, my otherwise distracted kiddos brightened up. "Hey!" Ellie said to me: "This is from Uncle Bitz's church!" Josie agreed with a wide smile that she recognized the tune. "That's right!" I said. The girls, who are generally apathetic and fidgety, started to sing along.

A 3 year old girl and a 5 year old girl. They remembered this tune.

Holy God, Holy Mighty, Holy Immortal One - have mercy upon us.

So simple - so powerful.

We are physical bodies.

With so much sin/temptation seemingly originating within our frail physical forms, doesn't it make sense to involve our imperfect flesh in worship? To involve our physical bodies in being set apart for God?



I used to think bowing and using the sign of the cross were crazy. Superstitious. An unnecessary inconvenience.

Then I tried both - and they are actually liberating! It's the chance to align my physical body with my spiritual desire to follow God. I engage my body in prayer, I actively make my body "set apart" for God. And in so doing, I'm given the gift of a physical/tactile reminder that I belong to Christ.

Plus - what do people do in the Bible when they encounter God in any form? They bow. What does the Bible say will happen in the end of times? Every knee will bow.

Maybe we should get in some practice. :)

It's about the PICTURE

Nathan and I were captivated by Ray VanderLaan's teachings. We listened to him describe the fundamental difference between Eastern and Western worldviews. It blew our minds to imagine that we have been completely blind to the Eastern way of perceiving scripture. Personally, it made me feel like I could no longer be certain about my own ideas when reading the Bible - which was both a terrifying and liberating feeling.

Among other things, RVL talked about the value of a picture over a definition. A picture speaks to experience, to intimately knowing. A definition is all rational knowledge, all intellect - which can be completely divorced from experience.

(Its worth noting that my brother Fritz listened to RVL's teachings, and he was wide-eyed in response. "He's talking about Orthodoxy!" Interesting.)

Why use icons? I'm sure there are many reasons/purposes for the use of icons, both in depicting people from the Bible as well as saints throughout history. But I can think of at least one reason that speaks to me -

A picture is transcendent in many ways. A story, much more than a definition, paints a picture that invites us in to an experience. Language is always shifting, and definitions can be shaped by translation, cultural interpretation, cultural understanding. Definitions require a rational and intellectual discernment - a logical interpretation. But a picture provides us a window into something that bypasses definition, and therefore brings us right to the feet of the experience.

RVL helps us see that the stories of the Bible are not about dissecting definition or creating diagrams, but about seeing and participating in the experience of the reality of God on earth. I now see that icons do the same thing.

"I don't want my faith to be reactionary."

"I just don't want my faith to be reactionary."

I sipped my coffee and nodded, mulling the word over in my mind. Reactionary. Reaction-ary.

Ben was one of the many people I met in the fellowship hall of my brother's Orthodox church one Sunday.
I was still processing the fullness of the liturgy itself, and though I busied myself with many conversations, I have no idea what else he, I, or anyone said that day.

But Ben's words - "I don't want my faith to be reactionary" - those quiet, unpretentious words seemed to stick with me and encapsulate so much that I hadn't yet been able to put into words. The words have hung with me to this day.

Looking at history, it seems a lot of the "new" within the church springs up as reactions to an off-base or dangerous idea. Growing up, half of the way I defined my version of Christianity was in terms of what I was not - I was not Catholic! I did not use icons. I did not pray to Mary. I did not believe in purgatory. Etc, etc.

I was so focused on the construct of "my Christianity" - the system which defined my faith, the diagram used to explain it - that any pursuit of real Christ-worship slipped away silently in the background.


But reacting to a wrong doesn't make a right. If you go wrong in math - if you make a mistake in the equation - you can't simply move forward from that point to get to the right answer. You've got to go back to the error, fix it, and then move forward.

In the discussion of church history, one might be able to reasonably argue that the early/Eastern church started out just fine - and then an "error" was introduced (arguably) by the Catholic church. Some attempted to correct the error by reforming the church. Reformation aimed to keep the truth and ditch the "extras."  In-so-doing, the reformers introduced a new idea into Christianity: the very idea of reform on the level of the common man. The idea that a person or a group of people have every right to break away from a larger church authority in order to pursue their version of "true faith" and "right belief."

And so began the domino-effect that's ensued for the past 300+ years - one reform leads to another, and another, and another - we experience an element of sickness in a church, and so we break off and start a new church trying to "fix" what we have experienced...trying to get back to the "real faith."

Reactionary. Yep.

Church History

Yeah, I haven't posted in a while.
It's for a specific reason. I got stuck.

For a while, my fingers punched away peacefully at the quiet keys, feeling a sense of positive release - and maybe even a positive addition to an important discussion.

I decided over 2 weeks ago that I wanted my next post to be a general overview of church history. I wrote a post....and then I stopped. I couldn't click "publish." I just couldn't.

My once peaceful fingers felt fretful and tense. The words seemed to stick in my throat like an unwanted fishbone swallowed too hastily.

And that's when I cornered it: I had been hasty. I had wanted to be compelling, perhaps even convincing, on a topic about which I'm not even qualified to write an introductory statement. Ah, the humility. Praise God for showing me.

I still want to write about church history....but this time, instead of trying to tell you "all there is to know" and to be convincing about it, I'll just share my personal experience and some of the things that grabbed hold of me. This is my humble experience, to which I'm sure volumes could be added.

Most people I know who converted to Orthodoxy did so in part because of church history. 

I suppose I’m no different, except that I didn’t really want to pull at that thread, because doing so threatens to unravel the fabric of much of my understanding about which church doctrine is true and trustworthy. 

Pulling at the “church history” thread is a slippery slope.

Growing up, I knew basic church history from the time of the Reformation onward. For many years, I assumed that all reasonable Christian people, those who really know God, agreed that the Reformation was the start of the “true church.” That somehow, the church had become irreparably marred before that time, and that our only hope (and God’s intent) was to withdraw from all "vain tradition" and focus solely on the Bible (sole scriptura), from which we could draw all REAL truth about Christ and avoid any pitfalls of “dead religion.”

Looking further back, however, raises some questions. Here is the another (simplified) timeline that is similar to the one used in an earlier post. I think it's helpful to have a visual:

Assuming the above is basically correct, here are some things I started to wonder about: 

Who changed what, and when?

The Catholic Church added to the faith throughout the years, as documented here. It is those additions that I, like most Protestants, used to rail against. It is those additions that fuel our passion to hold true to the Bible ALONE, lest we be swayed by add-on doctrines of all kinds. However, Protestants notably took away from the original faith. Some things I always assumed were "add-ons" (venerating Mary, praying to the saints, using icons) were actually original. When "cleaning house" after Catholicism, we did away with anything that smelled of dead tradition. Perhaps when we were pruning the faith, we cut and trimmed too much.

One way an Orthodox person would summarize this is as follows: the Catholic Church has added to the faith, the Protestant Church has removed things from he faith, but the Orthodox Church has maintained the original faith. 

When peeling back the layers of doctrine, it's remarkable to see that many of them I reject actually find their origin in the original church and (even more remarkably) have been maintained throughout several thousand years since that time.

Where do I fit - and is that a good place to be?

In the end, that title looming to the right that says "Thousands of Denominations" applies to me. I could give an argument about why MY denominational beliefs are sound. But - couldn't all those around me? How are any of us certain that we're standing on solid ground? I used to feel pretty good about the approach of "teaching the Bible" - surely you can't go wrong if you base everything off the inspired Word of God! But we all know of people and churches around us who have some pretty nutty ideas that they claim are "based on scripture." Who is right?

And what is more, I became amazed to see that the Orthodox church is teaching from the Bible as well...Each practice, belief and tradition can in some way be supported by Biblical text, even if it is also supplemented by Tradition. It's the lens you bring to the text that seems to make all the difference.

The stuff I feel icky about might actually be cornerstones of original faith. (!) 

It's interesting to note that some things we Protestants reject (like Papal infallibility) were added after the Schism between the Catholic and Orthodox church, but MANY things we reject were actually foundational beliefs since the beginning of Christianity - things like praying to saints, using icons, and a deep honor for Mary.  Could it be that we "threw out the baby with the bathwater"?

For roughly the first 1500 years of church history, even with the split of Catholic and Orthodox, ALL Christians believed things that we Protestants firmly reject. Some examples:

Mary:  The importance of Mary's role in the gospel story and our appropriate response to her.

Saints: The reality of the "communion of saints" including a dialogue via prayer with saints who have died, requesting that they pray to God for us. (It's not "worshiping saints" - a sticky misconception.)

Icons: The validity of the use of icons as a way to treasure our God and remember the inspiring stories of his saints, capturing in a photo what words alone could not do, and inspiring our visual senses.

Sacraments: The inherent importance of sacraments in our worship, and the affirmation that sacraments are sacred and are more than just "outward symbols."


When I, as a Protestant, firmly reject many or all of the above, I adhere to a Christianity that is a mere shadow of the original. 

Praise God for the Gems! 

I say this not to weaken the value of those gems that I HAVE been given: the truth of God the Father, His Son Jesus Christ's death and resurrection, and the life-saving work of the Holy Spirit. Praise God that we have those truths!

But in doctrine and practice, my Christianity doesn't look much like that original model. Perhaps it's time to go back home.