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.

The Father Looks for Our Return

“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.

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 Word Creates

The opening of Genesis and John shows that the world is made by God’s Word. Genesis 1 depicts God speaking the universe into existence: God does not build or struggle with raw materials; he simply speaks, and the Cosmos comes into being. Creation itself is a kind of liturgy, ordered and sustained by the living Word of God.

This shapes how we understand both the world and Jesus Christ. When Scripture says that God creates by speaking, it teaches that his Word is not just information but life‑giving power. God’s speech is supremely effective; it accomplishes what it declares. Every creature exists because it has been personally addressed by God.

The Gospel of John then makes this personal Word explicit: “In the beginning was the Word, and the Word was with God, and the Word was God.” Before anything was made, the Word already is, in perfect communion with the Father and truly God. “All things were made through him” means that the same divine Word who speaks in Genesis is the eternal Son, the one through whom all things came to be.

Creation is therefore Trinitarian: the Father creates through the Son in the Holy Spirit. The order and beauty of the world reflect the wisdom of the Word, the signature of Christ on everything that exists. The One who will later walk the roads of Galilee is the same One through whom galaxies, oceans, and atoms were brought into being.

The Holy Evangelist John then makes a staggering claim: “The Word became flesh and dwelt among us.” The eternal Word who called light out of darkness enters the very world he made, taking on our nature without ceasing to be who he is eternally. The hands that shaped the stars become the hands of a carpenter and are later stretched out on the Cross. The voice that said “Let there be light” will cry, “It is finished,” bringing about a new creation.

To say that Jesus Christ is the Word of God is to say that the Savior of the world is also its Maker. In him, the first creation and the new creation meet. He still speaks, calling each of us out of darkness into his light, and when he speaks, things change: the Word who once created now re‑creates, restoring in us the image first spoken into being at the dawn of this age.

Christ’s Compassionate Mission: Healing the Gadarene Demoniac

The account of the Gadarene demoniac begins with Jesus intentionally traveling into Gentile territory — a region where no one expected a Jewish teacher to go — to seek rest. Instead of respite, He encounters a man who is possessed by many demons and has been completely cast out by his own community, living among the tombs and bound by chains.

Despite the man’s terrifying condition and social isolation, Christ is not afraid or offended; He approaches the demoniac with profound compassion. The Church Fathers see this moment as symbolic of Christ’s entire messianic mission. No one, no matter how lost or broken, has drifted so far as to be outside the reach of God’s love and saving power.

The healing of the Gadarene demoniac assures us that Christ’s grace extends to the lonely, the forsaken, and those on the very edges of community. Jesus invites all to experience dignity and new life in Him, drawing us from the fringes into his loving embrace, where we stand together as brothers and sisters in a communion of Divine love.

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.”

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.