“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. 

Receive these messages in your inbox every weekday. Subscribe to my Fellowship of St Theophan the Recluse newsletter → [Subscribe]

The Ministry of Jesus in Galilee: Insights from Luke 4:14-15


In this excerpt from my online Bible Study, we explore Luke 4:14-15, where Jesus returns to Galilee empowered by the Spirit and begins teaching in synagogues, earning widespread praise. Saint Ephraim the Syrian and Origen emphasize Jesus’ spiritual power and the significance of teaching within the synagogue. The discussion highlights the centrality of the worshiping community in experiencing and learning the faith. The episode concludes with a reflection on facing temptations with God’s strength and becoming ambassadors of His grace.

The People that We Meet


When we give our lives over to Christ, one of the first places He begins working is in the people we meet. It’s easy to say, “Thank you, God, for bringing this person into my life,” when someone is helpful, supportive, and inspiring.
But what about those people who test our patience, who annoy us, or who we’d rather avoid? Can we still say, “Thank you, God, for bringing this person into my life”?
Every person Christ sends our way is there for a reason—either so we can serve Christ through them, or so we can learn something about ourselves that’s needed for our spiritual healing and growth. “As iron sharpens iron, so one person sharpens another.” (Proverbs 27:17)
Whether a person brings us joy or frustration, every encounter is a chance to break free from our egos and selfishness, and to truly live for others. The only thing we need to ask God is for the wisdom to discern why He brought us together.
Even those who annoy or persecute us are there to teach us compassion, kindness, and forgiveness. They help us learn to deal with negative emotions without letting bitterness take root. And sometimes, we’re the ones God has sent into someone else’s life to help them grow in patience and love.

What is the Fear of God?


What do we mean in the Eastern Orthodox Church when we talk about the fear of God? The following quotes offer important insights into this question.
Saint Dorotheos of Gaza wrote:
“A godly man fears and keeps to God’s will, not for fear of punishment or to avoid condemnation, but because he has tasted the sweetness of being with God, and fears he may fall away from it. He fears to be turned from it.”

Saint Theodorus the Great also writes:
“The greater our longing for God, the greater grows our fear. And the more we hope to attain God, the more we fear him. For as nothing is more blessed than to attain God, so nothing is more terrible than this great fear of losing him.”

The 20th-century elder, Elder Thaddeus of Vitovnica, said:
“The fear of God is when you love him, when you truly love him with all your heart, and you strive never to offend or sadden him—not only with your deeds, actions, and words, but also with your thoughts. You try to please him in everything you do or say. That is the fear of God, the fear of doing anything that might sadden or offend our parents.”

And in the book The Mountain of Silence, Kyriakos Markides sums it up like this:
“The fear of God of the saints refers to the fear of losing their connection with God, the divine lover, not the fear of a patriarchal despot who rules over the universe with an iron fist.”

We do not have, in the Eastern Orthodox Church, the image of God as Zeus—a powerful, mighty being waiting for people to mess up so he can lower the boom on them. For us, the fear of God arises when we realize, even if just for a moment, the beauty and fulfillment we find in communion with God. Then, we do not want to lose this Divine connection, and we do not want to conduct ourselves in a way that would result in losing it.

It is the fear of losing God, not the fear of God himself.

Whenever I post something like this, at least a couple of people respond with the quote, “The fear of the Lord is the beginning of wisdom.” These words are repeated several times in the scriptures. One place we find them is in Proverbs 9:10. And yes, the fear of God is the beginning of wisdom. It can be an effective wake-up call and a good starting point. It is the natural response of a humble heart before the Lord, his saints, and his angels.

But it is not a place that God expects us to be stuck in forever. He does not need us to fear him. And we remember that in the scriptures whenever an angel visits someone and the person is afraid, what is the first thing the angel says? “Don’t be afraid.”

St. Anthony the Great, referencing 1 John 4, said:
“I no longer fear God, but I love him, for perfect love casts out fear.”

So, fear can be a starting point for us. It can be what we need to take this whole thing seriously, but it is not where we must remain. It is a beginning, but ultimately everything must be driven by love.

Because frankly, if the reason I come to church, pray, read the Bible, and do all these things is simply because I am afraid of being punished, then I am making it about me. I do not want to get punished, so that is why I am doing these things.

In truth, our motivation should be the love of God and the desire for an intimate fellowship with him unto the ages of ages.