Following the Flame, Part V: A Door That Opened—and Closed

After spending my teenage years searching, studying, traveling, and seeking guidance, I thought I was done with Greece and was again returning to the United States with a clear purpose.
I wanted to find a place where I could begin the life that I had longed for. Some cultural aspects made it difficult for me to adjust to various places.
At that time, there were not many organized True Orthodox monastic communities in the United States. After much thought, I concluded that I would be better serving and living under the guidance of a bishop rather than attempting to navigate the monastic life in another way. All True Orthodox bishops seemed to have some monastic setup.
My search led me to more than one bishop.
The first encounter was extremely brief and did not develop further. Not bad people, but abrupt and not speaking to my heart. I was visiting for so little, I couldn’t even identify the matters.
The second was quite different.
The bishops I met there seemed to be men of refinement, dignity, and kindness. They received me warmly, and I found myself hopeful that I had finally arrived where God wanted me to be. I was not wise enough to be cautious when I saw what appeared to be a great welcome.
I entered upon a life with them wholeheartedly. I wanted and really tried to give everything there. No possessions whatsoever-just trust in God and in them.
After all, one does not leave everything behind only to remain half committed.
I arrived in early November.
Not long afterward, at the Feast of the Holy Nativity, I stood through the all-night vigil and received monastic tonsure. During the Divine Liturgy, I was ordained a deacon.
These were not small events.
They were among the most significant moments of my life.
The time of longing, searching, traveling, questioning, and praying seemed finally to be bearing fruit.
For approximately thirteen months, I remained there.
I learned much.
I served.
I observed.
I listened.
And slowly, almost imperceptibly at first, questions began to arise within me.
Not questions about Orthodoxy itself.
Those convictions remained unchanged.
Rather, questions about whether this particular place was where I was meant to remain.
At first, I dismissed those concerns.
When we are young, we often assume that every difficulty is simply a temptation that must be endured.
Sometimes that is true.
But sometimes difficulties reveal something important.
Over time, I realized I had found people whose perspectives differed so much from what I had learned in Greece and on the Holy Mountain.
Visiting clergy came and went. Athonites came and served with us. I enjoyed meeting most of them. Then I started to realize these Athonites were not members of our Church. On Mount Athos, they had communion with commemorators of the Patriarch!
Conversations unfolded.
Observations accumulated.
Piece by piece, I began to realize that my understanding of Orthodox life and the direction in which this community was moving were not the same.
This realization brought me no joy. I was torn apart. These bishops later found themselves being reordained by the Ecumenical Patriarchate and then being defrocked by that same Patriarchate. Here, the ancient Greek maxim “Those whom a god wishes to destroy, he first deprives of reason” was very applicable.
I had invested my heart in the place.
I wanted it to work.
I wanted to stay.
Yet truth has a way of making itself known, even when we would prefer not to see it.
One of the hardest lessons in life is discovering that a place can seem to be good for a season without being your permanent home. I had to admit that my choices (and this would happen many times in my life) weren’t good and were not what I was seeking.
God sometimes leads us somewhere to teach us, form us, and prepare us.
Then He asks us to continue the journey.
At the time, I did not know where that journey would lead next.
I only knew that the road I thought had reached its destination was beginning to bend once again.
However, the flame still burned. The easiest thing in this case, and in so many others like it, would have been to return to the life of the world. But the flame still burned on, and, glory to God, that flame didn’t allow me to change my heart’s desire!