From Wilderness to Paradise

Immediately before beginning his messianic ministry, Jesus is lead into the wilderness by the Holy Spirit, where He fasts and faces temptation for forty days. This passage is deeply symbolic: it fulfills the Old Testament pattern of Israel journeying in the wilderness for forty years after being delivered through the Red Sea—a foreshadowing of Christian baptism, which delivers us from sin and death.
Jesus’s time in the wilderness also prefigures the spiritual journey of every Christian, showing that following Christ does not remove struggles or temptations, but instead marks the beginning of deeper spiritual warfare. (An example of what Fr. Thomas Hopko called, “The bad news of the Good News.”) This struggle is expected for those serious about their faith, as temptations often increase when we draw closer to Christ. The wilderness represents both a battleground against evil and a place where God’s peace and victory can be found. Facing these struggles is not a sign of failure, but a sign that one is authentically on the path toward God.
St. Ambrose of Milan offers further insight: just as Adam was sent into the wilderness from paradise, Christ—the Second Adam—returns from the wilderness to lead humanity back to God. Jesus deliberately enters the wilderness of the world’s brokenness to seek out the lost and guide them toward the kingdom of God, showing that His saving work involves joining us where we are and bringing us to where He is—at the right hand of the Father.

When We Say “the Fear of God”…

Immediately before Holy Communion, the deacon comes out of the altar with the holy Chalice, exclaiming: “With the fear of God… draw near.” When we say, “the fear of God,” what are we actually talking about?

While the world’s fear makes us hide and leads us into isolation—like Adam and Eve in the garden—the fear that God calls us to cultivate is life-giving.  When we humbly become aware of our weaknesses, let that awareness inspire hope—not despair. Like the sick and demon-possessed in the days of our Lord’s earthly ministry, we run with confidence into Christ’s embrace, certain that healing and forgiveness await all who seek Him.

The true “fear of God” is not about anxiety or trembling before an indifferent despot, but about cherishing the precious relationship we have with our loving Creator. Let us remember the wisdom of the saints: those who have tasted the peace and sweetness of God’s presence fear only one thing—losing that intimacy with Him. This holy fear is not about dreading punishment, but about never wanting to be separated from God’s love.

Standing Fast in Christ

In his first epistle to the Corinthians, the Holy Apostle Paul offers the faithful these words of wisdom: “Watch, stand fast in the faith, be brave, be strong. Let all that you do be done with love.” (1 Cor. 16:13-14) From the very beginning, Christians have needed this encouragement.

There are always temptations either to compromise the faith or to give it up entirely. Yet standing fast in Christ does not mean being harsh or argumentative. Paul reminds us: everything must be done in love. Too often (especially online!), defending the faith looks like winning arguments or scoring “gotchas.” But in truth, no one has ever been argued into the Kingdom by clever comebacks.

Our calling is the same as that of the believers in Corinth who first heard St. Paul’s words: to witness through compassion, patience, and kindness—even when others take aim at us. Christ did not conquer by force or arrogance, but by emptying Himself in love on the Cross.

To stand fast in the faith means keeping our integrity, being brave to love when it’s hardest, and being strong enough not to sink into bitterness. The Kingdom is built on peace, kindness, and love, and as St. Paul urges, “Let all that you do be done in love.”

“Do Justice, Love Kindness, Walk Humbly”

People were deeply moved by St. John the Forerunner’s warning of the coming judgment and wanted to know how to amend their lives. St. John’s answer was grounded in mercy and justice—the same command proclaimed by the prophet Micah, that we “do justice, love kindness, and walk humbly with God.”

John was not giving a detailed code of behavior for every circumstance, but rather revealing the heart of the law. Repentance meant a shift away from “each man for himself” to becoming one’s brother’s keeper. True turning to God always includes turning toward the neighbor, because love of God and love of neighbor cannot be separated.

In practical terms, this means that part of faithfulness to God is found in serving others. Just as our sins often make life harder for those around us, repentance produces the opposite effect: making another’s life a little lighter, even through small acts of mercy. These are the fruits worthy of repentance, the visible sign that one’s heart has truly turned toward God.

“I Believe”

Looking over the text of the Divine Liturgy, we find very few “I” statements. The Liturgy is a communal act and the content of the prayers and hymns reflect this. There are, however, two notable exceptions. One is in the Creed and the other is the prayer that we read immediately before Holy Communion. Both of these sacred texts begin with the words “I believe.”
By saying “I believe,” we are making a personal confession of faith, aligning ourselves with the collective belief of the Church, first proclaimed by the holy apostles. “I believe” is not an abstract statement—this is the language of conviction, trust, and relationship.
We don’t say “I think” or “I theorize,” but “I believe.” In the New Testament, belief is never just intellectual agreement. It is an act of entrusting ourselves to God. St. Paul says clearly, “If you confess with your mouth that Jesus is Lord and believe in your heart that God raised Him from the dead, you will be saved” (Romans 10:9). To believe with the heart is to place our whole life in God’s hands. We hear this invitation over and over again in the Divine Liturgy: “…let us commend ourselves and each other and all our life to Christ our God.”
The Lord Himself connects belief with life. In John 11:25–26, standing at the tomb of Lazarus, Jesus says, “I am the resurrection and the life. Whoever believes in Me, though he die, yet shall he live, and everyone who lives and believes in Me shall never die. Do you believe this?” The question He asks Martha is the same He asks each of us when we begin the Creed and then again as we approach the Holy Eucharist: Do you believe this?

A Cross of Tragedy and Victory

Metropolitan Anthony Bloom said that the Cross is both a tragedy and a victory, revealing what is perhpas the greatest and most beautiful paradox in the Gospel. The tragedy lies in Christ’s innocent suffering and the shameful nature of crucifixion—a punishment for criminals and political outcasts—yet Christ willingly endures it out of  selfless love.

Our Lord did not will to be lifted up on the Cross for his own sake. He did it for us. Because Christ’s death was freely offered, the Cross becomes the act of sacrificial love that transforms death from tragedy to glory. “The Cross,” he said, “an instrument of infamous death… because Christ’s death was that of an innocent, and because this death was a gift of self in an act of love—becomes victory.”

Christians are called to embrace this paradox: taking up the Cross means denying selfishness and opening ourselves to divine love, which is, in Metropoltian Anthony’s words, “love sacrificial, love crucified, but love exulting in the joy of life.” This transformation demonstrates how defeat leads to glory through self-emptying love and ultimate hope.

Where it all began

Recently, I had the pleasure of visiting my Alma Mater, St. Andrew’s College, in Winnipeg, Canada. It’s been years since I’ve been back to the seminary. As always, the place I’m drawn to is the chapel. This is where I entered for the first time into the routine of the daily services, together with festal celebrations and the profound beauty of our seasonal liturgical life. These services, so filled with divine and life-giving rhythms and patterns, flow like a peaceful yet powerful river both through the Church year and through our own hearts.

Judgment and Grace as One


“He will baptize you with the Holy Spirit and fire.” (Luke 3:16) The same divine fire brings warmth to the repentant and burns the unrepentant. God’s presence doesn’t change—we do. 

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