The True Measure of Our Healing

Our walk with Christ is a journey of spiritual healing, not a checklist of accomplishments. We must resist the temptation to constantly ask, “Am I growing?” The Saints teach us that dwelling on this question leads us away from God and toward the pride of the Pharisee, comparing our “stats” with others.

If we obsess over our progress, we turn our relationship with God into transaction rather than transformation. We are called to simply do our duty without expecting praise, remembering the words of the Lord: “So likewise you, when you have done all those things which you are commanded, say, ‘We are unprofitable servants. We have done what was our duty to do'” (Luke 17:10).

Metropolitan Anthony Bloom taught that the only true indicator of spiritual healing is our willingness to do what God wants us to do. It is not about how many spiritual disciplines we master, but whether our will aligns with His. When our hearts genuinely echo the surrender of Christ—”nevertheless not My will, but Thy will, be done” (Luke 22:42)—we have found the only measure of growth that truly matters.

Essential to the Plan: Find Our Place in the Body

In 1 Corinthians 12, St. Paul reminds us that the Spirit distributes gifts “to each one individually as He wills.” This variety is intentional; if we all possessed the exact same talents, we could not serve Christ effectively. God grants us different strengths specifically to bind us together as a true community.

As Romans 12:5 affirms, “we, being many, are one body in Christ.” Just as a physical body needs every part to function, our spiritual community requires each of our specific contributions in order to be complete. No one in the Church is superfluous to God’s plan.

Our task is clear: to identify, nurture, and apply the unique gifts God has entrusted to us. We cannot let these talents lie dormant; they were given to us for the benefit of all. When we use these gifts to serve others, we fully step into the role we were created to fill.

The Chief of All Sinners

The Holy Apostle Paul established churches, performed miracles, and suffered immensely for the Gospel. Yet, his honest assessment of himself in 1 Timothy 1:15 is that he is “the chief among sinners”. How can a saint feel like a sinner?

Think of a dark room. In the shadows, the room might look perfectly clean. But if you open the blinds and let the bright noon sun stream in, suddenly you see every speck of dust dancing in the air and every smudge on the window. The dust was always there; the light just made it visible.

It’s the same with our spiritual life. The closer we draw to the Light of Christ, the more clearly we see the true condition of our souls. This isn’t a cause for despair; it is a sign of spiritual health. It means we are finally seeing reality.

We need to always remember the first part of the verse: Christ Jesus came into the world to save sinners. If we recognize ourselves as the chief of sinners today, we can take heart. We are exactly who He came to heal and save.

Scripture Therapy

When reading the Bible, it’s inevitable that, from time to time, we will encounter passages that challenge our perspectives or make us feel uneasy. However, we shouldn’t dismiss a message or assume it lacks truth simply because it doesn’t align with our current sensibilities. Spiritual growth, like any profound healing process, can be inherently difficult.

Finding spiritual healing and growth often requires us to step into the unknown and confront the parts of ourselves we might prefer to ignore. Just as physical therapy involves stretching tight muscles, our engagement with the scriptures serves as a vital part of God’s therapeutic plan for our souls.

Without a willingness to confront the difficult truths presented to us, we cannot truly heal. The scriptures act as a mirror and a guide, pushing us toward a version of ourselves that is more spiritually sober and resilient—more Christ-like. By embracing the tension we feel during these moments of “scriptural therapy,” we open the door to genuine renewal.

The Soul-Body Connection

St. Paul prays that our “spirit and soul and body” be kept rightly ordered and blameless before Christ, showing that each part has its place under God. In the same spirit, he warns that if we “live according to the flesh” we move toward death, but if by the Spirit we put to death the deeds of the body, we truly live, pointing to the danger of bodily impulses ruling over the soul. (1 Thessalonians 5:23; Romans 8:13)

Human beings were created to be a harmonious union of soul and body, functioning in the Divinely-instituted framework of the soul guiding the body. When this order is disrupted, when the body overpowers the soul, we are left with a distorted experience of both God and the world. When the body leads, people become fragmented, restless, at the whim of obsessions, compulsions, and addictions.

Instead, we are meant to lead with our spiritual sense, known as the nous. In Orthodox teaching, the nous is the highest faculty, capable of perceiving God and the spiritual realm. When the nous is darkened by passions, it leaves a person spiritually blind; when it is illumined, it allows the soul to discern God’s will and align our lives with it. This gives right shape and order to our lives: instead of becoming our masters, food, drink, work, rest, and the innocent joys of the body are received as gifts and offered back to God in praise and thanksgiving.

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.

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.