From the beginning of time, the human heart has groaned under sorrow, trial, and uncertainty. This world, fallen through sin, offers no lasting peace, and the faithful of every generation have endured many tribulations. Yet those who have remained steadfast in the Tradition of the Church, and who cleave to the unchanging deposit of Holy Scripture, have always confessed with unwavering tongue—the Lord is our refuge. “God is our refuge and strength: a helper in troubles, which have found us exceedingly” (Psalm 45:2). These words, heard in the midnight chants of monastic choirs and in the quiet groans of the sick and dying, reveal not a poetic image but a revealed truth. Our Lord is not far removed; He is close to them that fear Him.
The faithful do not seek comfort in false hopes or empty talk. The Lord is not made a refuge by our desire, but is known to be a refuge because He has shown Himself as such. The Bible, the writings of the Holy Fathers, and the lives of the saints testify to this. “In peace in the selfsame I will sleep, and I will rest: for thou, O Lord, singularly hast settled me in hope” (Psalm 4:9). When a soul settles into hope, it is because it has already tasted the bitterness of affliction. This peace is not given to those who trust in themselves, but to those who cast themselves wholly upon the mercy of God.
The Orthodox Christian life is not escape from the world, but a struggle within it. To call the Lord our refuge is not to abandon our duties, but to enter them girded with holy strength. Our Saviour Himself, in His agony, turned not away from suffering, but placed Himself entirely into the hands of His Father. “Father, if thou wilt, remove this chalice from me: but yet not my will, but thine be done” (Luke 22:42). This is no metaphor—it is the path of the Cross, and the path of every true Christian. We do not look for ease; we look for grace. And grace is always found in the will of God.
In the Law of Moses, the cities of refuge were set apart for those who had done harm unintentionally. There, the one pursued by vengeance might find protection. These were sacred shadows of the fullness to come. In the New Testament, the pierced side of Christ is the new City of Refuge. His Blood flows as protection for the guilty who repent. “Thou shalt protect them in thy tabernacle from the contradiction of tongues” (Psalm 30:21). The tabernacle of God is amongst men, and those who enter it shall not be confounded.
The Most Holy Theotokos is called by the faithful, “Joy of All Who Sorrow” and “Refuge of Sinners.” Her intercession is no small help to those who fear the Lord. Beneath the Cross she stood; not wavering, not fleeing, but still and faithful. In her we see the one who obeyed without protest and endured without defence. Her prayers cover the world like a mantle. She teaches the faithful not to run from suffering but to remain close to Christ who sanctifies it. When we say, “Refuge of Sinners, pray for us,” we speak as children clinging to their true Mother.
The Holy Mysteries are the hidden storehouse of our strength. In the Most Holy Eucharist, Christ Himself comes to dwell with us. He does not remain distant but draws near in the sacred Gifts. The altar becomes our stronghold, and the Chalice our fortress. He who eats and drinks with reverence and confession enters not into condemnation, but into safety. The Holy Fathers have spoken clearly that those who live without the Sacraments have no armour, and are as sheep before wolves.
The Mystery of Repentance is likewise a place of rest. The tears shed in confession do not weaken the soul; they cleanse it. “Come to me, all you that labour and are burdened, and I will refresh you” (Matthew 11:28). These are not words to be read only once—they must be taken into the heart. Confession is not humiliation, but healing.
The Bible is the voice of the Lord in written form, burning with the same fire that once consumed the bush before Moses. “Every word of God is fire tried: he is a buckler to them that hope in him” (Proverbs 30:5). We do not read them as scholars, but as beggars who have found bread. In the ancient tradition, the reading of the Gospel was done standing, with candles, as in the presence of the King. This reverence must not be lost. The Word is a refuge because it cuts through deception and brings us to repentance.
The righteous Job, sitting in ashes, forsaken and alone, said, “Although he should kill me, I will trust in him” (Job 13:15). This is the cry of a soul that has seen all stripped away and still blesses the name of the Lord. The Old Believers honour such a soul, for they too have known what it means to be cast out, misunderstood, and persecuted. Yet the Lord remained, and remains, the one sure place of peace.
The saints bear witness in every generation. They prayed when others mocked, fasted when others feasted, endured prison, fire, and exile. They did not speak loudly, but their lives thundered the truth: “The Lord is nigh unto them that are of a contrite heart: and he will save the humble of spirit” (Psalm 33:19). In their icons, we do not see abstract ideas—we see our elders, our brothers, those who have walked this same path and found God faithful.
The Orthodox home must become a little church. There, the children must learn not only to make the Sign of the Cross and bow, but to pray from the heart. The father must be a priest in the home, and the mother a keeper of spiritual warmth. The Psalter should be heard, the incense should rise, and the Names of the Saints should be honoured. When temptation comes, the children will not run to strangers for comfort—they will run to the Lord, whose name they learned in the lamp-lit hours of evening prayer.
In this present age, the deceits are many. People run after entertainments, luxuries, ideologies, and empty speech. But none of these things protect the soul when death draws near. “Thou art my protector and my refuge: my God, in him will I trust” (Psalm 90:2,). We must speak this often, not with proud voice, but with deep certainty. The house built on Christ does not fall, though all the winds of this age rise against it.
The Holy Orthodox Church, preserved through the generations even by the blood of confessors, remains the Ark. Though men sin, the Church is holy. Though the world and many Protestants mock us, we know that the Church holds the keys of life. To remain within her is to remain in Christ. Saint Cyprian wrote that “no one can have God for his Father, who has not the Church for his Mother.” These words must be taken very seriously. One who leaves the Church cuts himself off from the Vine of Life.
Prayer is the breath of the soul. Whether with the chotki or the lestovka, whether with prostrations or with sighs, prayer is the door to refuge. “To thee will I flee: for thou art my house of refuge” (Psalm 70:7). Our elders of the past knew this. They would rise in the night, cross themselves, and whisper the Name of Jesus. Let us not grow idle. The time is short. Let our lips remember the prayers of our fathers, and our hearts be stirred by the Spirit.
In death, the faithful do not face terror, but release. For those who have walked with Christ, the hour of departure is not abandonment. It is entry into the Kingdom. “The Lord is my light and my salvation, whom shall I fear? The Lord is the protector of my life: of whom shall I be afraid?” (Psalm 26:1). The saints died with this on their lips. Let it be found on ours.
Therefore, brethren, let us say with truth and conviction: Thou art my refuge and my portion in the land of the living (Psalm 141:6). Let this not be decoration, but foundation. Let it shape our speech, our choices, our homes, and our prayers. In the Holy Mysteries, in the prayers of the saints, and in the Most Precious Body and Blood of Christ, we are given everything we need. The door is not shut. Let us not hesitate. Let us run, and cleave to the Lord who alone is our refuge.
May God bless you +
Fr. Charles
23 July 2025
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