From African to Western Rite Foolery

His Imperial Majesty Haile Selassie I 

I came into the church in a very round 'a' bout way. My heart had been drawn to Orthodoxy from it's African roots, as I had been studying heavily on the Solomonic Dynasty which is present in Ethiopia. Why was I even interested in African Emperors? Well, Rastafari was for me a way to combine what I believed was Natural Law with the teachings of the Gospel. Rasta allowed me to understand things about my relationship as a man, with God, Life and all of Creation. It helped me to unravel the personality of Jesus Christ as fully god and fully man. Christ was no longer some impersonal idea but a true, historical person and His life was an actual event. But I was confused as to whether His Majesty, due to his blood-lineage and historical love for his fellow man, made him Christ or not. I chose to believe in my folly, that Haile Sellassie was Jesus Christ incarnate in His Second Coming. What astonished me most and definitely was the beginning of my conversion, was obtaining a copy of My Life and Ethiopia's Progress, His Majesty Haile Selassie's autobiography. For within the pages of this book, I read for myself that this great King gave all of his glory and value to Jesus Christ and His Holy Church, the Ethiopian Orthodox Church.

Seattle bound, I vowed to seek out a Tewahedo Orthodox Church and get to the bottom of this new information. I could think of nothing else. My heart cried out in agony at the thought of feeling so close to knowing the truth of God and yet being so far removed from it.
After much seeking I found only an empty chapel filled with votive candles, African icons and Roman Catholic statues, (a small chapel shared by Latin Catholics and an Ethiopian congregation). I prayed, lit a candle for the first time, wept bitterly and left. Disheartened, I traveled back to my little town in the Southern Oregon mountains with no hope. I cried for days. I couldn't work. I couldn't do anything but pray.

One day, like any other for me back then, I walked my five mile hike to the General Store to have a cup of coffee. George was a curly grey-haired, honest, hardworking man, at that time in his 50's. He managed the general store and on occasions would speak roughly to a foul-mouthed teen. Telling them to shut up or leave the store as firmly yet respectfully as he could was not unheard of. I liked him. His gate was wobbly, as he had an orthopedic shoe to assist him, from a past hip surgery. He carried himself through the General Store as if he owned the place, and for a time I thought he did. George and I were sitting on the bench outside when I told him of my recent journey to Seattle to find a local Ethiopian Orthodox Church. His only words after listening intently to my long sob-story were, "I am Orthodox. I am an Orthodox Priest..."

St. Germain of Auxerre, Paris
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When one has been on a life long journey, looking for something like this, and they finally find it, well unless you've been there it's hard to imagine what it is like. One could suppose that there would be nothing left but some blissful state of Nirvana. Nothing left to do but die? Nope. A million questions flew through my head like when you drive in a blizzard and you can see nothing in front of you but the white-out snowflakes against the grey background which is really just more snowflakes. This was happening inside my head, not only questions but ideas rushing at me. A fire was kindled in my heart where there was barely a spark left. I spiritually died in Seattle only to be raised from the dead back home. And the new home I found was in a Western Rite Orthodox Church, from French tradition no less!

In a little, tiny Oregon town, far removed from the fast-paced life of the city, God not only found me but had been preparing me to enter His church. He had been preparing this kind priest and his wife. He had even prepared every step in my life up to that point, so that when I finally heard about the Orthodox Church, I would readily accept the truth.

I knew nothing of this strange spiritual land I had encountered other than, that every question I wanted to ask, was answered simply and completely, rationally.I had come before a great Oracle, with humility and reverence. All I needed now was the courage to stay on the path and continue searching for the truth.

I prayed. I attended many services that first year. I studied.

Oh how I studied! It was as if I couldn't get enough! The church was not like anything I had experienced before. Every answer began with simple statements like, "According to the earliest writings...", or "The Church has always maintained that...", etc. Before me stood two thousand years of historical tradition. Orthodoxy could contend with any faith that called itself Christian or any belief that claimed authority and would win. Who can argue with a direct Apostolic lineage when speaking on the faith?Interpretations of modern preachers had nothing on the Holy Fathers of the church (Acts 9:5-6) I was confounded by the new knowledge of these ancient Ecumenical Councils, I had never heard of. The Gospel became brand new. I learned that the rich history of the church was actually preserved and progressed, rather than dropping off into some "Great Apostasy" as some hold to. Heresy after heresy attacked the Church's teachings and they would all fall away. What strikes me now is the awareness that many of these same heresies still exist, constantly nipping at the heals of the great Orthodox Christian Church. They come in new forms in our modern era, but still sound the same underneath. Most of them still challenge the doctrine of the Trinity, or the Nature of Christ and His relations to God the Father or Man.

Most of all, learning and living the Orthodox life as a young catechumen, I was beginning to understand how to love God. Loving God comes on His terms, not on our own. I had come to a point of willingness, where I could finally accept the words so hard to understand. (Acts 9:5-6) Christ never minced words with His apostles. He speaks clearly and concisely, eg: "Unless you eat of my flesh and drink of my blood..." and  "I and the Father are one." I always stumbled over these points. I also stumbled over the faith of my youth, raised as a Baptist.

There were questions laying dormant within me that had never really been put into words. What was beginning to take shape as I learned how to fast and pray, was a desire to actually live every day as a Christian, rather than always struggling to know my identity. I had in fact found my identity in Christ. His life was becoming my own.

As with everything in life, at first I over-indulged with Orthodoxy. By nature I'm a shamefully passionate person. Like a fool I rush into things. But by His hands, the Lord has softened my edges. He has taught me through our beautiful faith that all good things take time. Orthodoxy is not a Pop-faith of the moment. She is the Christian church existing throughout the centuries and a bastion of holiness, Heaven on Earth, and the gates of Hades have not prevailed against Her (Matt. 16:18).