“But while he was yet at a distance, his father saw him… and ran and embraced him and kissed him.” (Luke 15:20)
The father in the Parable of the Prodigal Son was looking for his lost child the entire time the young man was away. He wasn’t sitting inside, nursing a grievance or waiting for an apology to slide under the door. This is the posture of our God—always watching, always waiting, and always desiring our return.
Notice that the father did not wait for the son to close the gap. He could have stood his ground to make a point. Instead, the moment he saw him, he made no effort to conceal his overwhelming love and joy. He bridged the distance himself, refusing to let his son walk that last mile home by himself.
Whatever distance we feel between us and God in our hearts, we can rest in the knowledge that He is not waiting for us to be perfect before He embraces us. He is not holding back to teach us a lesson. The moment we make the slightest turn toward Him, He is already running toward us, ready to greet us not with a lecture, but with a kiss. We are loved, we are missed, and we are welcome home.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
Here’s my sermon at St Nicholas Cathedral in Fort Wayne, Indiana, on Palm Sunday, April 9, 2023. If we’re looking for some thing to give our ives meaning, we’re looking in the wrong place.
Here’s a discussion about the trait that must be the unshakable foundation of every believer. My sermon at St Nicholas Cathedral in Fort Wayne, Indiana, on the Sunday of St Mary of Egypt, April 2, 2023.
Eastern Orthodoxy 