Akathistos

If I had known when I first walked into an Orthodox church that I would one day become more than just a “seeker”, I would have started this blog long ago. I could have better chronicled my questions, doubts, struggles, high points, low points, and everything in between. I will try to start at the beginning, but the beginning wasn’t that day a year and a half ago when I walked into St. Athanasius Orthodox Church, it was years before. Before I even knew of the Orthodox Church, before I married my seminarian husband, even before I was “saved”. The beginning for me was learning about God through my parents’ love for me. I was shown His compassion through their compassion, His hope through their hope, His confidence through theirs. My faith was strongly shaped by my parents’ beliefs. They were both raised Catholic and left that church when I was a young child. They attended a Christian and Missionary Alliance Church, which became the church that I grew up in. At the time, I didn’t realize that there was anything different in the world of churches. I knew of Catholicism and Protestantism. I didn’t know that there was something in between the two. Something whose history surpasses them both. I always surmissed that if my beliefs differed from those of my evangelical church, I was probably wrong. I didn’t know that there is a church that believes what I have believed all my life.
As we first began attending the Orthodox church, I was resistant to anything having to do with it. At times I wanted to give up my faith because I couldn’t stand to surround myself with strange icons and horrible-smelling incense. I would rather have let go of my beliefs than allow myself to seek understanding of that church. I wanted nothing to do with it. My husband, at the time, was quite intrigued. He finally felt like he had found a church where he belonged- a place were people believed what he believed. He was so patient with me, visiting other churches to help us find a place where we could both belong: Catholic, Christian, Episcopalian, etc. But it seemed that no matter which church we attended, neither of us were happy. I wasn’t happy with any church; he was happy with orthodoxy. I must add, that during this time I was also pregnant with our son. My emotions were raw, my moods unpredictable, and my thoughts irrational. We attended the church, on and off, for a year before I even allowed myself to become interested in it. We began to read about the lives of saints, research the purpose of icons, read about the history of the church. However, with each step forward, I took a huge step back. One Sunday I would participate in the service, and the next week I would be too afraid to leave my bed in the morning.
I attribute one event in my life to our moving forward in this journey of orthodoxy: Palm Sunday service at an evangelical church. It was at that point that I realized I could not longer be an evangelical. I could no longer settle with churches and their various heresies that lurked in every corner. I could no longer permit myself, and my family, to absorb another ounce of teachings that are centered on man and not Christ, on Jesus and not the Trinity.
I had to decide on my own that I wanted to seek out the Orthodox church. If my husband had prompted the discussion, becoming catechumen never would have happened. I needed to take my time. I needed to have the love of a husband who is constantly seeking out what is best for his family. I needed to know that there isn’t any other place where I can find True faith.