This is the second part of a series. Read the first part here.
by Londyn, Summer ‘24 Intern
When my mom first announced to my family that we would be attending a new church–that is, the Orthodox Church–I didn’t know what to feel, let alone to think. I was fourteen at the time and had never had any particular consistency with the denominations of my church; we mostly went wherever was closest to us. So, her announcement didn’t seem too out of the ordinary, and we didn’t put too much thought into it; we loved God and knew we should attend Church every Sunday. But what inspired this particular decision?
Since I was born, I’ve been a regular church attendee. I was baptized at six, alongside my dad, and later baptized again at age twelve in the Anglican Church. Between those years, we had tried a couple of other denominations, including Baptist and non-denominational. I appreciated the Anglican Church when I entered the building and experienced the service. But I had never heard much of the church, the only time being a brief mention of C. S. Lewis’s Christianity. Nonetheless, I have always been an eager learner so I was more than willing to participate in the service.
We quickly got plugged into the church and spent two years there. We believed we were all satisfied for approximately a year and a half of that time. But slowly, and yet again, we felt a nag, like something was missing. My mom would speak to me and ask questions about my views and thoughts of the church we participated in. Through our discussions, both full of positive and negative views, we almost considered attending a Catholic service. I was surrounded by quite a few Catholics, especially friends, and nearly thought this was a good idea—until I heard someone say to my mom, “Well, just choose whichever church feels right to you.”
Which church feels right? I thought to myself. This doesn’t seem sustainable. My family's “feelings” on different denominations have changed throughout the years and have always left us yearning for more. We can’t continue our walk with Christ based on our feelings.
However, we continued attending the Anglican Church for approximately another six months. Slowly, our church and priest were transitioning things to be more and more traditional. We switched from the more Protestant hymns and even popular-sounding Christian music to small components of chanting–something entirely new for me (and all of us in my family!). The first time I heard it in the service, I looked up from my service book; I definitely wasn’t expecting it. But I felt drawn to know, hear, and participate more. In my youth group, I heard a mention of Icons–another thing I had no clue about. I didn’t even know what to picture; I had never been exposed to that word! Oh, how much I had to learn.
In August of 2022, my mom made the abrupt decision I mentioned before. We were going to attend an Orthodox church and see what happened. She told my siblings and me that she had emailed the priest and that we would try out our first day that Sunday, which was only two days away. To be completely honest, I was upset. It felt too abrupt–we were happy enough at our Anglican church. Weren’t we?
And that’s just it. You can’t simply be “happy enough” or “just” satisfied in your love of Christ; it is so much deeper. The moment I stepped into the Orthodox Church, however, I was taken aback. The walls were adorned with icons; prayer, faith, and sincerity were all around me. Not only did I sense a holy presence, but I could see, smell, and fully participate in this glorious finding. I felt at home–even though I had just entered.
After five months of being attendees, we spoke with our priest and began catechism classes. Every hour per week we spent for months with him was like discovering my faith and love for Christ again. I found what I was missing. The truth and beauty of the Church, the Church that has been passed down for thousands of years! Glory be to God for this beautiful finding! I wanted to be chrismated and participate in the Holy Eucharist. And here is the start of when my spiritual life was entirely changed.
It took me months and, honestly, still years to come to become entirely accustomed to the services, the holy traditions, the feast days, and even the fasting. And through everything I have learned and experienced so far, I know that the missing part of me is finally found. I was always told that being a Christian is difficult, but I know, see, and believe that the sufferings here on earth we deal with are what make us stronger in our faith. I didn’t truly know what I believed in my faith for the first fourteen years; I listened to what I was told and never gave too much thought as to why there are so many offshoots of Christianity. But the moment I was exposed to the truth, I wanted nothing more than to always be surrounded by it.
Looking back, I wish that I was always exposed to the beauty of the Church and, if you’ve read my previous post, the beauty of homeschooling. However, the journeys that I went through are just the start of my life. The base I have been given is a strong foundation that I pray to keep for the rest of my earthly life. May God grant us all many years!