So far, the goal of Orthodoxy itself has propelled us forward. Well, there have been times when the momentum was fueled by pastoral frustrations. But for the most part, we’ve read, prayed and investigated to refine our vision. In doing so we have found the path forward. 

However, this week the move feels daunting. I’m disoriented and overwhelmed by upcoming realities. Primarily, there’s the prospect of saying goodbye to our parish, to ministry, to our home and to a way of life. These conversations begin next week. Where to start? What to say? There’s a slight, but present, canonical possibility of us being removed from our home. There’s the big step of renouncing holy orders. 

I’ve been ready for all of these in my heart, but the logistics and presence of them all to my mind now bring sadness and trepidation. This is the moment of counting the cost. Questions repeat themselves in my mind recalling the unknown and unanswerable, reinforcing a feeling of dread. 

In dark times of unanswerable questions, I’ve found Isaiah 50 verse 10 helpful: 

Who among you fears the Lord

    and obeys the voice of his servant?

Let him who walks in darkness

    and has no light

trust in the name of the Lord

    and rely on his God.

We’ve been in tight spots before. We’ve had to sit in the dark until God lights the path through his beloved Son. This move into Orthodoxy has more pieces and affects more people, but he will lighten the load and light the path for us. 

I’m reminded, too, of a favorite poet of mine from early adulthood, Rilke. He has a short poem called Almond Trees in Bloom. In it, he says:

Oh, if only we knew how to blossom: our heart would rise above 

every small danger and find peace in the greatest danger of all.

I imagine a pink bud curled in on itself, afraid of exposure to raging winds, frigid nights and pelting rain. It convinces itself that it doesn’t need to unfold and face the elements. I’m glad an almond bud doesn’t have thoughts or feelings. If it did, it might not do what it naturally does. It might not risk opening to the gaze of God. It might not risk weathering life, forced to trust that the delicate fabric of its blossom will survive, fully opened to the caring gaze of its Creator.