Life, according to the teaching of the Orthodox Church, is not an accidental series of occurrences, but a sacred journey under the loving and watchful eye of Divine Providence. Every stage of our earthly existence—childhood, maturity, old age—is marked by a spiritual rhythm that points us towards the Kingdom. Joy and sorrow, triumph and defeat, peace and struggle are interwoven by the hand of God to bring about the healing of our souls. From the moment of our baptism, we are no longer our own; we belong to our Lord Jesus Christ, and all that befalls us is permitted by Him for the purpose of our salvation. The victories we celebrate, the wounds we endure, the daily repetitions of ordinary life, and the upheavals that shake our stability are not random. Rather, they are the tools by which the Lord forms in us the likeness of His Son.
Orthodoxy does not accept the idea of blind fate or the randomness of secular fortune. On the contrary, it affirms that the hand of God is present in every detail—even, and especially, when His presence is hidden from our perception. All things are allowed for the edification of the soul and its journey toward theosis, union with God. Childhood often brings lessons in trust and wonder; youth teaches responsibility and moral accountability; adulthood demands sacrificial love, work, and service to others; and old age invites detachment from vanity and preparation for the final mystery of death and resurrection. Each stage of life is a unique podvig—a spiritual labour—that purifies the heart and draws us ever deeper into the mystery of divine grace.
It is often in the contrast between light and darkness that we perceive most clearly the providence of God. Success may foster gratitude, but it is through failure that we are taught humility. The wounds we carry, the losses we suffer, and the disciplines we bear can open our hearts to a deeper knowledge of God than ease ever could. As the Apostle writes, “For whom the Lord loves, he chastises; and he scourges every son whom he receives” (Hebrews 12:6). Therefore, both joy and affliction become sacraments of divine instruction. In His wisdom, the Lord permits sorrows not to destroy us, but to free us from illusions, to detach us from our idols, and to call us back to Himself. Our trials, when received with prayer and humility, become spiritual exercises that strengthen the nous and cleanse the passions.
Thus, life itself becomes an extended ascetical school in which the soul learns, not through abstract theory, but through concrete and often painful experience. Each relationship, every challenge, each mundane task or unexpected burden is a moment in which Christ is present, teaching, correcting, and healing. The Orthodox Christian is not called to be successful in worldly terms, but to be faithful and watchful. As St Isaac the Syrian teaches, “Be at peace with your own soul, then heaven and earth will be at peace with you.” To live in such attentiveness is to recognise that the lessons of life are not interruptions to our spiritual progress—they are our spiritual progress. They shape us according to the icon of the Crucified and Risen Lord.
One of the most fundamental and enduring lessons the Church imparts to her children is the centrality of humility. Without humility, no other virtue can flourish. It is not a posture of false self-deprecation, but a true knowledge of one’s weakness and total dependence upon God. In a society that exalts personal autonomy and the assertion of the self, Orthodoxy reminds us that we are dust and ashes, and that apart from grace, we are nothing. Trials—such as unexpected sickness, the betrayal of friends, financial collapse, or the quiet griefs of loneliness—strip us of pride and force us to stand naked before the truth of our condition. And it is precisely there, in that state of unadorned poverty, that God draws near. As the Psalmist affirms, “It is good for me that you have humbled me, that I may learn your justifications” (Psalm 118:71).
The saints, both ancient and contemporary, are unanimous in this. God resists the proud but grants grace to the humble. The Most Holy Theotokos, the living Ark of the New Covenant, exclaimed in her song, “He has put down the mighty from their seat, and has exalted the humble” (Luke 1:52). Humility is the root of prayer, the gate of the heart, and the soil in which divine love blossoms. It enables the soul to yield, to listen, to forgive, and to weep over its sins. It is not crushed by failure, but refined by it; not embittered by loss, but illumined through it. He who is truly humble does not trust in himself, but casts his entire being into the mercy of God, as a child into the arms of a loving Father.
This humility is learned in the quiet obediences of daily life. It is forged in hidden acts of service, in patient endurance of injustice, and in silent suffering borne without complaint. These acts, invisible to the world, are precious in the sight of God. It is here that we follow Christ most closely, who “humbled himself, becoming obedient unto death, even to the death of the cross” (Philippians 2:8). Humility is the path of Christ, and it must be the path of every Christian. It is not an option, but a necessity. For only the humble heart is capable of receiving the uncreated light, and only the broken heart shall be raised up in glory.
Another indispensable lesson of the Christian life is perseverance—what the Fathers called makrothymia, long-suffering. The life of faith is not sustained by fleeting emotions or dramatic experiences. It is a path of steadfast endurance, often walked in silence, through barren spiritual deserts and the storms of temptation. There are seasons when God withdraws all sensible comfort in order to test the soul’s fidelity. Yet He who permits the test never abandons His servant. Our Lord said, “In your patience you shall possess your souls” (Luke 21:19). This patience is active — to persevere in prayer when it is dry, to attend the Divine Liturgy when the heart is distracted, to fast when one feels weak, and to forgive when every part of the self recoils.
The desert Fathers understood this deeply. They did not seek mystical visions or spiritual ecstasy. They sought purity of heart, and they were willing to endure decades of struggle to receive it. Spiritual life, they taught, is a long obedience in the same direction. There will be falls. There will be confusion. But what matters most is to get up again, to repent, and to return. “Let us not be weary in well doing; for in due time we shall reap, not failing” (Galatians 6:9). It is by this kind of perseverance that the soul is slowly stripped of pride, cleansed of delusion, and made receptive to the grace of the Holy Spirit.
It is through this perseverance that the mystery of redemptive suffering begins to be revealed. The Orthodox do not glorify suffering in itself, but we confess with the Apostle that when borne in Christ, suffering becomes a participation in His Cross. “If we suffer with Him, we shall also be glorified with Him” (Romans 8:17). When we choose to love, to pray, and to trust the Lord amid affliction, our wounds are joined to His, and our sorrows are sanctified. Through such endurance, we are not only saved, but we become vessels of grace for others. As St. Silouan the Athonite said, “Keep thy mind in hell, and despair not.” This is the paradox of Christian perseverance — that it embraces suffering without being overcome by it.
In the end, perseverance is not about strength but about surrender. It is the quiet heroism of remaining faithful when no one sees, of carrying the cross without complaint, and of trusting in God when every earthly reason urges us to give up. It is the steady heartbeat of the soul that whispers, “Lord, I believe; help my unbelief.” In this way, the Christian bears witness to the faith not by grand gestures, but by the daily decision to remain at the foot of the Cross, where grace flows continually to those who will not flee.
The final and greatest lesson of life is love. Not love as sentiment or romantic feeling, but love as sacrificial communion—a participation in the very being of God, who is Love (cf. 1 John 4:8). As one matures in the spiritual life, it becomes clear that love is the goal of all asceticism, the crown of all virtues, and the measure by which every soul shall be judged. “You shall love the Lord your God with your whole heart… and your neighbour as yourself” (Matthew 22:37–39). This is a practical commandment to be lived daily—in acts of mercy, in forgiveness, in generosity, and in the refusal to repay evil with evil.
In the Orthodox tradition, love is the fruit of purification. The more we repent, the more we are illumined by grace. The more we are illumined, the more we love. This is why even the greatest ascetics never considered themselves holy—they had encountered the depth of divine love and knew their own unworthiness. And yet they radiated that same love to others. Even the gifts of prophecy and miracles are of no value without love, for “if I should have prophecy and should know all mysteries… and have not charity, I am nothing” (1 Corinthians 13:2).
Love alone endures. Beauty fades, strength fails, riches vanish, and knowledge shall be forgotten—but “charity never falls away” (1 Corinthians 13:8). The Divine Liturgy, the lives of the saints, the icons, and the fasts all point to one end—to teach us to love God with all our being, and to love others as bearers of His image. The Holy Eucharist is the feast of divine love, for in it we receive not only grace but Christ Himself. When we receive Him worthily, we are united to the fire of divine charity, which consumes all impurity and ignites the soul with a desire to serve.
Let each day be lived with this one question in mind… Have I loved God, and have I loved my neighbour? This is the test of true Christianity. In the end, it will not be our accomplishments or our eloquence that matter, but the degree to which our hearts have been enlarged by grace. In love is found the purpose of our creation, the meaning of our suffering, and the fulfilment of our calling. Love is the beginning, the path, and the final joy of the Orthodox life.
May God bless you +
Fr. Charles
4 July 2025
