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.
Just as Jesus faced 40 days of temptation after His baptism, we too can expect spiritual struggles when we get serious about our faith. Being in the wilderness isn’t a sign of failure.
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.
“And in the synagogue there was a man who had the spirit of an unclean demon, and it shouted with a loud voice, saying, ‘Leave us alone. What have we to do with you, Jesus of Nazareth? Have you come to destroy us? I know who you are, the Holy One of God.’ But Jesus rebuked it, saying, ‘Be quiet and come out of him.’ Then the demon threw him down in their midst and went out of him, having done him no harm.” (Luke 4:33-35)
In the above passage, note that the demon identifies Jesus as the “Holy One of God.” In Psalm 16, it says, “you will not abandon me to Hades and nor let your Holy One see corruption.” “Holy One” is a term for the Messiah.
The demons say, “we know who you are.” But Jesus says, “be quiet.” He stops the demon from confessing him as the Holy One of God. He doesn’t allow him to say this.
St. Cyril of Alexandria says, “He would not permit the unclean demons to confess him. It was not right for them to usurp the glory of the apostolic office or to talk of the mystery of Christ with polluted tongues.”
Knowing who Jesus is is not enough. St. Augustine says, “the devils confessed Christ, but lacking charity, lacking selfless love, it availed nothing. Do not boast of that faith that puts you at the same level with the devils.”
Again in Luke 4:41 we read, “And also demons were coming out of many people shouting and saying, ‘You are the Christ, the Son of God.’ But he rebuked them and would not allow them to talk because they knew he was the Christ.”
St. Athanasius the Great says, “Even when the demons spoke the truth, when they said, ‘You are the Son of God,’ the Lord himself silenced them and forbade them to speak. He did this to keep them from sowing their own wickedness in the midst of the truth. He also wished us to get used to never listening to them, even though they seem to speak the truth.”
There are a couple of very important things to note in this insight from St. Athanasius.
First of all, temptations are very rarely enticements inciting us to do something that is outright evil. Most often they are a distortion of the truth. Jesus does not want the demons to confess him as the Christ, the Son of God, because he knows that they will take that truth and they will distort it in such a way that will confuse the people and take them away from him.
We can see this all the way back to Genesis 3 with the first temptation. The devil says to Eve, “If you eat the fruit of the tree of the knowledge of good and evil, you will become like God. And God does not want that.” This is a twisting of the truth because God does want us to become like him, but we can only become like him with him by participating in the life that he calls us to. We can’t do it on our own. So he doesn’t even allow the demons to declare the truth because he knows they’re just going to twist the truth up.
The second thing St. Athanasius says is Christ wants the people to get used to never listening to the demons. In our lives, we give agency to what we pay attention to. The things that we pay attention to, we give power to in our lives. So by listening to the demons, even when they are speaking the truth, we’re allowing them access into our hearts and minds, and eventually this will turn on us.
Even though these demons are saying the absolute truth, Jesus is the Christ, is the Son of God, he says, “no, you are not allowed to say that.”
Jesus’ refusal to accept testimony from demons, even when they spoke truth, reveals that the source of the message matters as much as the message itself. In our own spiritual lives, we must learn to discern between authentic revelation that draws us closer to God and deceptive truths that, while factually correct, lead us away from genuine relationship with Christ. The demons knew who Jesus was, but their knowledge was sterile, lacking the love and surrender that transforms mere intellectual assent into saving faith. As we navigate a world full of competing voices claiming spiritual authority, may we cultivate the wisdom to recognize that true knowledge of God only comes from humble hearts that seek Him in truth and love.
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.
Much has been written about the Lord’s Prayer and you can find hours and hours of podcast episodes on it. It’s worth taking the time to look these sources up (this lecture by Fr. Thomas Hopko is a great place to start).
St. John Chrysostom said:
The Lord teaches to make our prayer common, in behalf of our brethren also. Because he does not say: “My Father, in Heaven,” but, “Our Father,” offering up his supplications for the body in common, and in no way only looking out for his own good, but looking out in all things for his neighbor’s good. And by this he at once takes away hatred, and quells pride, and casts out envy, and he brings in selfless love – the mother of all good things, and exterminates the inequality of human things…
What St. John is pointing out is that we don’t say, “My Father,” we say, “Our Father.” The Lord’s Prayer is the great equalizer in Christianity. Regardless of our race or cultural heritage, of our station in life, or of any other demographic into which we can be separated, we are all united in calling God: Our Father.
An ancient Christian saying states that “One Christian is no Christian.” Christianity is relational at its core. The word for Church in the New Testament, “ecclesia,” literally means a people called together. This is how the Lord Jesus Christ defines his people: as one Body, united by his grace.
In my journey through life, I don’t walk alone. I walk together with all of my brothers and sisters, untied through Christ as a family of faith, children of Our Father in heaven.
St. John Chrysostom is arguably the greatest preacher in Christian history. A central theme in his teaching is that Christians must not settle for the bare minimum. Instead, we are called to give God our very best.
In his homilies on the Gospel of John, he said:
“The life of a Christian should be like a flame, burning with love for God and neighbor.”
Consider what we read in John 3 about God’s gift to us. He “loved the world so that He gave His only-begotten Son”—to be born, to preach, and to die on a cross—“so that those who believe in Him would not perish but have everlasting life.”
If we only do the bare minimum—if our flame burns dimly—we are not giving God enough. That kind of response is unfair, considering all He has done for us. Bare minimum Christianity does not reflect true discipleship. It falls short of honoring the One who gave us everything.
Our faith calls us to grow and to strive for excellence. Christ loved us enough to give His life. We should love enough to leave our comfort zones, especially for those who need our care, compassion, and love.
This is our calling.
We must constantly ask ourselves: “Am I doing enough, or have I become too comfortable?”
God deserves our effort. Christ deserves our excellence.
May each of us become a brightly burning flame—radiating His light and life to the world.
In the Gospels, Jesus only answers the questions of people who are sincerely asking. To people who come to try to trip him up, people who just want to argue and debate, he doesn’t offer an answer. This is our example for what to do when people want to debate points of faith with us.
Christianity, is not about debating it is about encountering the living Christ and the transformative power of his gospel. And that can only happen with a heart that’s open.
So to those who come to us with questions with an open mind and an open heart. Yes, let’s do our best to offer them a response, or to find somebody who can answer the questions. To those who just want to get into verbal jousting matches, we can save our breath, our time, and our energy.
However, it’s important to remember that even those who seem to be antagonistic may be doing so out of a place of hurt or confusion. Perhaps they’ve had negative experiences with the Church or with people who say they’re Christians, and they’re lashing out as a result. Or maybe they’ve simply never been exposed to a loving and compassionate understanding of the faith. As a result, it’s always be helpful to approach these conversations with empathy and understanding, rather than defensiveness or judgment. We can listen to their concerns, validate their feelings, and offer them a gentle and respectful response.
Of course, there will always be those who are simply looking for a fight. But even in these situations, we can choose to respond with love and grace. This is the most Christ-like response of all. We can pray for them, and we can trust that God will work in their hearts in His own time. In the meantime, we can focus on living out our faith in a way that is both authentic and inviting. By showing others the love of Christ through our words and our deeds, we can draw them closer to Him.
In this fourth episode on the Holy Mysteries – the sacraments, we examine the Eastern Orthodox understanding of the Eucharist. In the Orthodox Church, Holy Communion is called “the medicine of immortality and the antidote to death.”
Eastern Orthodoxy 