Even in my childhood I dreamed of becoming a pilot. At that time I communicated a lot with my uncle. He was deputy commander of the Moscow Military District for radar warfare. His whole life was connected with aviation, and although he did not fly himself, he told me a lot about flying. I came to visit him in the city of Kubinka, Moscow region. Together we visited aviation exhibitions, museums, on his advice I read a lot interesting books on aviation. So, already from the 5th-6th grade I dreamed of flying. And my dream came true. After school, I entered the Chelyabinsk Military Aviation School and studied to become a navigator.
Already at the age of 20, flying began in my life, of course, associated with risk and difficulties. My mother was worried about me and advised me to be baptized in the church, saying that this would be protection and help for me. At that time, I believed that believing in God was quite boring, unpromising and uninteresting, that it did not bring a person any joy or satisfaction. Something gloomy and dark seemed to me when they talked about faith in God. But still I went and was baptized in Orthodox Church.
Previously, the only believer in our family was my great-grandmother. She always prayed for all of us. Mom didn’t reject God, but she didn’t go to church either. One day she had a strong desire to read the New Testament. She started reading, but it soon turned out that her mother did not understand anything from what she read. At home, she drew attention to the New Testament with the inscription: “To Valery (my father) from Ivan.” She asked dad who Ivan was. He explained that this is a believer who works with him. Mom said she would really like to talk to him. Soon this meeting and conversation took place. Ivan Ivanovich turned out to be a clergyman of the Church of Christians of the Evangelical Faith. After talking with him, my mother believed in God.
She began to talk to me more and more often on the phone and in letters about the Lord, about His love for all people. She began to talk about how, having believed, she seemed to have risen from the dead, that her soul was filled with joy, happiness, and love. I listened to her with interest, because all this did not fit in with my idea of ​​​​faith in God.
Around the same time, my friend, who had once read the New Testament and understood something for himself, being an unbeliever himself, for some reason began to tell me about what is sin before God. I did not know that. His stories also touched my heart.
One day my friend got into trouble (partly through my fault). He should have been expelled from the school. Feeling guilty and powerless in the current situation, I decided to turn to God for help. I made a promise to the Lord that if He helps and my friend is kept in school, then I will not smoke for a whole month and will pray. My friend was not expelled; it was as if everyone had forgotten about him. I kept my promise. This event produced a powerful experience in me and was a powerful sign for me that God exists, that He heard me and helped me in this hopeless situation.
Soon I came home on vacation. My mother invited me to church for worship. Without any doubt, I went. This period of my life was quite successful. I didn't have any sorrows. This year I became a master of sports in aviation all-around, a national champion among higher military educational institutions. Of course, I was filled with pride from my victories. While at the service, I normally accepted everything that was said there. I even had the feeling that everyone around me was somehow close and dear, although I was there for the first time and didn’t know any of the people gathered. At that moment, I did not make any decision about serving God, being content with what I had, I simply listened to the preachers and prayed a little with everyone.
But a few days after this service, I was touched by my mother’s words addressed to me. She spoke about justice. That if a person does good, then at the end of his life he should end up where it will be good. And if a person acts badly, commits sinful acts, lives only for himself, in fairness he must be punished for his life. She turned to me and asked: “Do you know that you are a sinner?” Of course I knew about it! Even a child of 12-14 years old subconsciously already understands that he is a sinner. I realized that I needed to repent of my sins before God. Then the sly thought came to my mind that I would repent just in case, well, you never know what might happen to me. And thereby I will “reserve” a place for myself there, with God. In the meantime, you can live a little for yourself. I didn’t feel very bad, but at the same time I understood that there was still something to punish me for. And with these thoughts I came to church for worship and repented there. But, to my surprise, after the prayer of repentance, changes began to occur in my life. I developed an aversion to alcohol. I could no longer smoke, because after smoking I began to have a severe headache. Before this, I tried to quit several times, but nothing worked. Another miracle was that I could no longer use obscene language. I had the feeling that a filter had been placed on me and bad words became disgusting to my nature. All this was a very strong sign from the Lord for me. I used to think that people, in order to please God, restrain themselves with incredible willpower, doing it out of fear of punishment or something like that. Then I realized that God gives a person strength, helps him, frees him from vicious desires. It was a revolution in my consciousness, in my perception of God. And I believed sincerely, deeply. Only a year later I was baptized and became a member of the church. This event was postponed by a year because I was still studying at a military school, and my life was connected with weapons. After graduating from college, I served for some time in the Moscow Military District in Voronezh. After the regiment officially became part of the peacekeeping forces for combat operations, I wrote a letter of resignation. I was afraid that there might be a situation where I would have to use weapons, which would be contrary to the teachings of Jesus Christ.
Somewhat later, I married a believing girl, and now we have seven children.
17 years have passed since I gave my life into the hands of God, and I have not for one moment regretted doing it. I see God's great mercy over me. Although there are difficulties, the Lord never leaves without His help.

Fedor Matlash, Chuvashia

We continue to introduce our readers to the Spas TV channel program “My Path to God,” in which priest Georgy Maximov meets with people who have converted to Orthodoxy. The experience experienced by the guest of this episode of the program is dramatic and at the same time... bright, because it radically changed his life, which was rapidly rushing downhill, and turned him to Christ. How and why Vasily ended up in the world he experienced there how the feeling of Christ's love helped to correctly comprehend life Here , is his story.

Priest Georgy Maximov: Hello! The program “My Path to God” is on air. Our guest today, I will say right away, experienced very dramatic events in his life, which led him to God. Among people far from faith, there is a saying: “No one has returned from the other world.” It is pronounced with the subtext that no one knows what awaits us after death. However, the story of our guest refutes this saying. But before we talk about his death and return, let's talk a little about the background. Vasily, am I wrong if I assume that you grew up, like many of our generation, in an unbelieving environment and were unfamiliar with faith?

: Yes. I was born and raised in a different era. And after the army - for me it was in 1989 - a completely different paradigm arose. Soviet Union crumbled. I had to somehow get my own food. A young family, a child was born. After the army I worked a little at a factory, and then ended up in security Agency- CHOP. Now, of course, this is a slightly different structure, but then they were security guards, and at night they were bandits who extorted debts. I've done a lot of bad things. Lots of terrible things. There is no blood on my hands, but everything else is enough. That’s why I’m still ashamed, even though I repented. Many people died nearby. Some were imprisoned. But, since my daughter was born at that moment, I decided to leave this path. Little by little I managed to move away without much loss. I just moved to another place and cut off all connections completely. I tried to somehow build my life, but there was no money, and I worked part-time. Anywhere: traded, taxied in his car. I met some friends at the market. Back then it was called “scam”. Worked for three years in the markets of Moscow and the Moscow region. There he became addicted to drugs.

Father George: How did this happen? You were already an adult and you probably heard that it was dangerous.

Heroin is a very tenacious demon. He takes a person into his arms and does not let go. Twice is enough

: I then had a fight with my wife, I lived alone in a communal apartment, and a large group of drug addicts gathered there. I looked at their happy faces as they injected themselves and said: “You don’t need this.” It was more like: “Just don’t throw me into a thorn bush.” And so I wanted to try it. At first it was scary. I sniffed it - it didn't have much effect. Then he injected himself once, twice, three times... And that was it. I think twice is enough. Heroin is a very tenacious demon. He takes a person into his arms and does not let him go. No matter how many people were treated, tried to somehow leave, get off this topic - only a few succeeded. I know only one girl who succeeded, but even then at the cost of great effort, and she was a fiasco in the female department. That is, she won’t give birth anymore. Well, the rest died. Moreover, people experienced clinical death from an overdose and then went for a new dose.

I remember an incident with my friend. We were sitting in the kitchen: me, him and his girlfriend. They pricked him - he fell. He felt bad, they called an ambulance. They arrived quickly. They dragged him onto the landing. There they opened the sternum and performed direct cardiac massage... This sight is not for the faint of heart, I tell you. They pumped it out. And still it didn’t give him anything, and literally two months later he left us due to an overdose. Scary things. I sat there for about a year. This is relatively little. It hits people in different ways. Some live on heroin for 10, 15 years - I don’t know why it took so long. But usually a drug addict lives 5-6 years maximum.

Father George: Was your own death also due to an overdose?

: Not really. At that time, there was an opinion: you can drink vodka, and through alcohol you will be able to get off heroin. But, as it turned out, this is not really the case. It was the May holidays, and for that purpose I drank and drank. To get off heroin. But it didn't help. I couldn’t stand it, and on May 11, my friends and I injected ourselves at the entrance. It was in the evening, after 10 pm. And vodka and heroin mean death right away. I don’t know what influences what, but it’s practically immediate. And I was still under the influence of alcohol. I remember the darkness. It’s as if consciousness collapses. The eyes close and bells ring in the ears.

Father George: So you experienced clinical death?

: This is the very moment of death. I didn't feel any pain. My eyes closed softly, calmly, and I fell down, sliding towards the garbage chute. There he remained. I only remember how literally a moment later I saw - as if from under water and in slow motion - how a girl, one of us, was running, knocking on apartments so that they would open the door to call an ambulance - there were no mobile phones then. My comrade, who was nearby, Sergei, is trying to give me artificial respiration. But, probably, he wasn’t very good at it. Then I remember that I was already lying in front of the entrance. The ambulance has arrived. The body is lying. I see my body from the outside. They are doing something there. And somehow it didn’t matter to me anymore. Completely uninteresting. It started to pull somehow to the right and up. Everything is accelerating. And such an unpleasant sound, a hum. It spun and flew up the big pipe. My thoughts did not stop for a second.

Father George: Didn't the realization that death had occurred frighten you?

: And at first I didn’t have this understanding. It came later. I began to be pulled faster and faster. Then such translucent walls, a tunnel, an ever-accelerating flight. There are some pictures around that can be compared to star photographs from the Hubble telescope. And there's a bright light ahead. The brightest. It's akin to a water park ride where you spiral down, go down, and fall into a pool of warm water. And such a chord of some kind of unearthly music, or something. That's when I looked at myself. Only then did the realization come that I had died. There was no regret at all. I felt joy, peace, pleasure. I could see where I was. I saw my body lying in the ambulance. But I feel somehow... completely indifferent to him. Without any contempt, without hatred, just...

Father George: How is it already something alien?

I immediately realized that it was Him. And He is like a father. No one has ever talked to me like that

: Yes. Here's how you walk past - there's a stone lying on the street. Well, it lies and lies. After that, I was pulled upward, you know, as if a warm palm began to lift me up. I felt straight waves of happiness and absolute calm. Absolute protection. Everything around is saturated with love - such strength that it is not clear what to compare it with. It was as if I was being pulled through some clouds. How the plane takes off. Higher and higher. And a figure appeared in front of me in a dazzling radiance. She was wearing a long robe, a chiton. You know, before that time I had never opened the Bible and never had any thoughts about God or Christ. But then I immediately realized with every fiber of my soul that it was He. And He is like a father. He met me, the prodigal son, with love that you will not see on Earth. No one has ever talked to me like that. He did not reproach, did not convince, did not scold. He was just showing my life. We communicated in thoughts, and His every word was perceived as law. Without any doubt. He spoke quietly and affectionately, and I became more and more convinced that I was monstrously wrong not only to myself, but also to my family, and to everyone in general. I cried, sobbed, my heart, breaking, cleared, gradually I felt better.

You know, this comparison stuck in my head: when a potter is making some kind of pot, and his clay piece falls - and he begins to straighten it with his hands... Just like a potter, He straightened my soul. She was so dirty... So, He played my life like a picture before my eyes.

It is known that this happens, I later read this from the same Moody or from others who experienced similar things. Nothing new here. I'm not making this up, I'm not lying. They lie, probably, to achieve some goal. I just want to talk about what I saw so that people can hear. I’m already used to the fact that many people don’t believe me and sometimes twist their finger at my temple.

So here it is. He could stop life anywhere. It's like some kind of movie. But, what’s most interesting, I could go anywhere to look at myself. Feel the situation from the point of view of each of the people around me.

Father George: Understand how they perceived it?

I met Alexei Zubarev, a parishioner of the Moscow Church of Sophia the Wisdom of God, through the Internet. I was looking for material on the topic “Orthodoxy in Bali” and came across his contacts. It turned out that sometimes, in order to come to faith, you need to go very far and for a long time. God will still find you and touch your heart so much that you will suddenly want to build an Orthodox church in Bali. And even if the first attempt has not yet been crowned with success, the grain has been thrown, which means that sooner or later it will sprout.

15 years of nightlife

Alexey, it is symbolic that your rethinking of life began at the age of Christ - at 33 years old. Tell us how it happened. What did you do and how did you come to search?

The rethinking did not happen overnight; the understanding that I was living wrong, that I needed to change my life, had been growing in me since I was 30 years old. Then I realized that something was going wrong...

I worked in expensive entertainment establishments - as a bartender, waiter, manager, and helped cooks in the kitchen. Later he worked for a very long time as an art director and promoter - throwing parties. It was my favorite job in the entertainment industry! But I saw how strong the emptiness inside these actors and singers was... It seemed that all the regulars of nightclubs and restaurants were rich, but this is not so. Often a person rents an apartment, but shows everyone that he dresses beautifully and has expensive car. Many poor people try to get out into the public this way. I lived among people who were concerned only with the thirst for entertainment and profit. All conversations were about pleasure.

After 15 years of nightlife, I got tired of it and opened my own company, Freshgroup, in Moscow. My friend and I made about ten completely finished projects from scratch: we opened turnkey restaurants and clubs. But that’s all over.

- Are you bankrupt or just tired of doing this?

At one point, I began to feel disconnected from my previous life. We sat with a companion again outdoor cafe. A young woman manager who had a child approached us. She was from out of town and asked my companion for money to pay for rented apartment. He refused, although it was not difficult for us to give her 15 thousand rubles. And I realized that I don’t want to live here.

Once I had a dream about an earthly paradise - about an island where people live not according to the principle “you give me - I give you”, but according to the commandments

And one day I had a dream about an earthly paradise, that I was on some island, where people live not according to the principle “you give me - I give you,” but according to the commandments spoken of in Scripture, when a person must help, take care of neighbor. I will note that I almost never dream, well, maybe two or three dreams a year. And when, at 33, I finally realized that something needed to change, my friend suddenly suggested that I go on vacation to Bali. This was in 2006. I only knew that it was in . I haven’t read anything about what kind of culture, religion, what interests people have there. When I got off the plane, I realized that I wanted to live here, and after two weeks I was convinced that I didn’t want to look for anything else. I saw a lot of sun. The sun is very important to me. The sun is life for me. I saw the island from my dream...

God brought me to Bali

- Has your life changed a lot in Bali?

Certainly. It seems to me that God brought me to Bali. But I didn’t come to the Orthodox faith right away, because there is no Orthodoxy there. I was baptized at age 9, but never wore a cross. In Russia I was far from faith, because I was surrounded by people who had no faith except faith in money and power. But real faith in God is written only in the lives of holy ascetics. Here people only go to services on Sundays, but there I was amazed that people go to their churches almost every day at any time of the day. What's happened real faith, I first saw it in Bali.

- Tell us about the island itself.

Some say that there are about 17 thousand islands in Indonesia, others say that there are 19 thousand. It is impossible to accurately count such a huge number of islands. The island of Bali is located between Australia and Malaysia. There are a huge number of religions in Indonesia. But the main religion is Islam. Java is completely Islamic. Bali is the only island where Hinduism is practiced, which came from India.

There are nine main large temples in Bali. The temple is called "pura". I really loved climbing to the top of Mount Agung and leading people there. This is the most high mountain. Its height is 3100 m. At the foot of Mount Agung, sacred to the Balinese, there is the temple of Pura Pasar Agung. It is located at an altitude of 1500 meters above sea level.

- What are the main holidays there?

I didn’t go into much detail about them, but there are two holidays like our Christmas. These are major pagan holidays: Galungan, symbolizing the victory of the forces of good over evil, and Kuningan. There is also Metal Worship Day, when Balinese people decorate everything made of iron. The sacrifice ceremony is carried out for any occasion: the opening of a restaurant, the birth of a child, a wedding. This is paganism. If our main holiday is Easter, then the most important Hindu holiday is Nyepi, Balinese New Year. They have this “floating” day, celebrated, as a rule, in March-April. On this day, once a year, the electricity is completely cut off for exactly one day and there is no light on the island.

- And how do they live without light?

Of course, this does not particularly apply to hotels: about 30% of the light is left on. The light is dim, dim. And in the private sector you do not have the right to turn on the light. In addition to the police, there is a banjar - a squad, a kind of local authority. As a rule, local residents curtain their windows, seal them, or don’t turn on the lights at all. For them, this is not just an indicative holiday, they believe in it. It is also called the day of silence. For exactly 24 hours a person thinks about his life in order to understand how he lived the year and how he will live next year. For them, turning off the lights for a day is very expensive. Planes are not flying, the airport, which brings in more than $5 million a day, is completely closed. And they refused this money for the sake of their faith. This is amazing and very powerful!

Nowhere but the Gospel is there sacrifice

- How did you come to the Orthodox faith?

I had a curvature of the spine, and I practiced yoga professionally for four years. Basically it was hatha and power yoga. I also did one practice called “5 Tibetans” or “Eye of Revival”. My friends from India brought a very funny book, “The Eye of Revival.” It was with her that my revolution began. I learned that in the mountains of India, at an altitude of 4-6 thousand meters, lamas constantly live - people who know the secret of eternal life. They know five exercises (although there are six in total), by doing which daily, a person can live up to 80 years without illness and in old age he will have a strong skeleton and a clear mind. But you can't miss a single day. In half an hour you can do each exercise 21 times. And the lamas, apparently, did a sixth exercise in order to live longer than the average age. For four years I did five exercises every day. Practice allows you to stay active and keep all joints in good condition, lubricating them like lubricant. That is, the path to faith began for me with a book about the body. Later I started reading spiritual books. I read about all the religions and confessions that exist.

- Have you heard about the hieromonk? He studied all religions and eventually came to Orthodoxy. How was it for you?

Yes, I've heard of him. In my case it was the same. I read the Koran, Torah, Old Testament, Bhagavad Gita. It seemed to me that I was reading the same thing. What remains is the New Testament. My friend Irina told me to read the Gospel. I read it and realized that I was wasting my time. Although otherwise, I probably would have thought all the time that I was missing something. And having studied the main religions - , and , - I realized that there is nothing there that is in the Gospel: there is no sacrifice. This is certainly an amazing book! When you read it throughout your life, the Lord constantly reveals amazing things to you, and you think: “How come I didn’t understand this myself?”

Saint Luke (Voino-Yasenetsky) wrote in his book “I Loved Suffering” that he was pierced by the words of the Gospel: “The harvest is plentiful, but the laborers are few,” and he became a priest. Did any quote or chapter in the Gospel strike you?

If a person says that he loves, helps with money, but does not sacrifice, this is not love

There is no such chapter. I make notes in the Gospel every day. I'm interested in everything. “If you hear with your ears, you will not understand, and you will look with your eyes, but you will not see, for the hearts of this people have become hardened, and their ears are hard to hear, and they have closed their eyes, lest they see with their eyes, and hear with their ears, and understand with their hearts, and not they will turn so that I can heal them” (Matthew 13: 14-15) - this is an amazing quote. In any chapter of the Gospel there is something that can change a person. But for me the main thing was the day when I read that Christ simply took it and did it. We keep talking, but He took it and did it. The most important thing is love. What is love? Love is actually when a person can sacrifice. If a person says that he loves, helps with money, but does not sacrifice, this is not love. Orthodoxy is different. The love that Christ spoke about is when a person can sacrifice his time, his resources, knowledge, anything, without sleeping an extra hour.

- Is it possible to attend services and receive communion in Bali?

I lived in an amazing place. Across the road from my house, there were five temples next to each other, which seemed to be connected: Balinese, Buddhist, Muslim, Catholic and Protestant. There are no Orthodox churches in Bali. But we met a woman from Ukraine who set up a house church. People received communion only on major holidays, when Eugenia invited Father Joasaph from Jakarta. He also periodically came to the Greek restaurant, which was located on Legian. We came there a couple of times for services and received communion. Before Irina’s arrival, I had never received communion once: she introduced me to Orthodoxy when I lived in Bali, and gave me the Gospel. And Matronushka led her to Orthodoxy. Better than people I have never met anyone like Irina! She is a very good Orthodox psychologist who can really help a person.

When I read the Gospel she gave me, everything became clear to me. We began to walk this path together. And when we had the idea to build an Orthodox church in Bali, we posted an ad on the Internet.

To our surprise, a month later Alexander from St. Petersburg responded and said: “Look for land, I will allocate money.” And indeed, he transferred money to the owner of the land. They began to draw up documents, but local authorities tried to put a spoke in the wheels. It was necessary to obtain a huge number of permits. As a result, this all dragged on for five months. We were unable to move this matter forward... Although, while in Moscow, I went to the Danilov Monastery to the Department of External Church Relations of the Russian Orthodox Church to help me with this. I was introduced to Father Oleg from Bangkok (his residence is located there throughout Southeast Asia; he cares for parishes in Bangkok, Cambodia, and Laos). Father Oleg came to see me in Bali, but still it was not possible to open the temple...

And by that time, my dad became seriously ill, and I clearly set priorities in my life and understood true values. I realized that I live my life here in pleasure, although I have people close and dear to me who need me. I decided to leave everything as it is. He closed his law office and fish farm and moved to his parents. I explained the situation to Alexander and gave him the documents. We couldn't build a temple...

Life was wonderful! But it turned out to be a trap

- Why do you think there is still no temple in Bali? Why didn't it work? After all, there are a lot of Russians there.

The worst thing is that not a single Russian signed our forms or spoke out in favor of having an Orthodox church in Bali!

I still don’t understand! I distributed a thousand questionnaires, placing them in five surf schools and in one Russian cafe, but the worst thing is that not a single person signed them or spoke out in favor of having an Orthodox church in Bali!..

In my understanding, Orthodoxy is a persecuted religion, and it is persecuted for a reason. Now is the time of Satan, who is doing his best to make a bunch of traps in order to draw a person into his net and prevent him from coming to the truth. He does everything to prevent people from purity, truth, truth. Christ is the truth. A huge number of religions is the reason that a person goes astray: he goes into one, another, third religion. But as it was written in Scripture two thousand years ago, only the elect will remain who will not give up their faith. “He who endures to the end will be saved” (Mark 13:13). This is true everywhere: in business, in family, anywhere. If a person firmly believes in something, he is not broken. This applies to everything.

- Some people read the Gospel, but nothing moves them...

Because the Gospel opens a person's spiritual eyes. He is shown concrete examples of the human vices that exist in each of us. When a neighbor or friend tells you that you are wrong and do not lead a good life, that’s one thing, but when you read about this in the Gospel, you can close this book with horror and say: “No, I don’t need this.” . The Gospel is known anywhere in the world. Even non-believers remember God, saying: “Glory to God,” “help, Lord.” We all believe in our Guardian Angel, even non-religious people. There are also dark angels who send us dark thoughts. Unfortunately, there are many more dark angels than people living throughout the world. A huge number of thoughts come precisely from these angels. We call them the spirits of evil in high places.

- Are there more dark or light angels in Bali?

In Bali you can do absolutely anything, and you won’t get anything for it. No brakes. And people fall into this trap

It took me a while to realize that there were more dark ones. If you Google the words “Bali Island” on the Internet, you will find out that it is the “Island of the Gods”. And at first this island was also a paradise for me. But when I left, I clearly realized that this was the island of demons. A person here can do absolutely anything, and nothing will happen to him for it. That's why people fall into a kind of trap there...

In 2007, housing prices in Bali were very low, simply ridiculous compared to Moscow. At that time, a dollar cost 30 rubles, and an ordinary apartment in Moscow could be rented for $1,300 a month, and we rented an entire villa - a large two-story house with four rooms - for a year. In general, it was not life that began, but raspberries! It seemed that dreams of a favorite business were coming true.

- What funds did you use to go there?

In Moscow I had a good car. I sold it for $45,000. This was enough for seven years! Moreover, in the first eight months I spent about $15,000. Life was wonderful. But it was a trap. Since I worked for 15 years in entertainment business, I was immediately captivated by Balinese nightlife. I drank alcohol, a lot of it. It was necessary to slow down. I started exporting stone to Germany, where a Russian guy, Volodya, lived. He wanted to do business in Bali, where a huge number of factories make very beautiful souvenirs from wood, stone, etc. We made a catalog, photographing sinks, bathtubs, all sorts of marble, granite and mosaic tiles, statues. It was 2007. But the crisis began. And by 2008, it reached Germany, where half a container of my goods is still standing. At that time it was no longer interesting to me. I wasn't upset. I realized that I needed to do something further.

While doing projects in Moscow, I always wanted to open a restaurant on the ocean. Bali is located in the center of the Indian Ocean. When I first vacationed there, we were brought at night to the shore, where there were 14 fish restaurants - a few kilometers from Ngurah Rai airport. I remember the lights of the planes, delicious seafood, and it was some kind of madness. It’s warm, we eat fish in a restaurant, we dream about what we love!

A friend of mine came to Bali with her two sons and her banker husband, and they also fell in love with this island. A year later, we opened with them next to the InterContinental Hotel the Russian restaurant “Wawasan” (which means “idea” in Indonesian). They rented a villa for $15,000 a year with servants, with a swimming pool, bought a car, and hired a personal driver. But after eight months, Tolik and Irina began to fall out... This is one of the dangers of Bali for people whose life is built not on love, but on pleasure. If a marriage is based on love, people live together in sorrow, in joy, and in poverty. But if a marriage is based on vices, it falls apart. Everything is available, there is no punishment, no barriers. If in Russia there is some kind of morality, conscience, then in Bali this is not the case. Everything there is based on instincts, like animals. There are no rules. Even in traffic there are only two rules. The fine for violating them is ridiculous. I was driving drunk and offered a $20 fine instead of $10. They agreed. People who rent an apartment in Russia for $1000 a month can afford to pay such a fine! Therefore, a person coming to the island has no brakes. All his vices are increasing...

When we sold our restaurant, I started legal business for those people who come to Bali without knowing in English and local laws. My company “Zubarev Law Office” successfully existed for more than two years. When I myself arrived in Bali, I didn’t know the Indonesian language at all, but I knew the words “hello” and “how are you” in English. In Bali, unlike other cities, the local population speaks English almost fluently, as it is developed travel business.

Tourists go there all year round. The population of Bali is 2 million people, and with tourists - more than 4 million. December and January are off-season due to tropical rains. In India, if it rains, it can rain continuously from a day to a week. In Bali it rained for an hour or two in the morning, by lunchtime it was sunny and everything was dry. In the evening it rains again. In Bali, it rains mostly at night. In the morning you can go to the sea to surf or mind your own business.

You can travel around the entire island on a road bike in two days and one night. I had this dream, but I did it at the end of my life in Bali. The total kilometer of the ring was 368 km. Unforgettable impression. Better than a moped. The lower the speed, the more nuances you notice.

The Russian diaspora is the most unfriendly

- I heard that medicine is very developed in Bali, that many women come there to give birth.

Yes, everything is cheap there and the conditions are different. If childbirth here costs so much, then there it is ten times cheaper. The American Robin, who has lived there for more than ten years, has, I think, two clinics where water births are performed in a pool. You can pay 10 dollars, or you can pay 5,000 dollars. This is not a business for her. She is one of the top ten famous people peace. A lot has been written about her in magazines and on the Internet because she helps people. The film “Eat, Pray, Love” based on the book of the same name (“Eat, Pray, Love”) was filmed in Bali. And people went there to see the healer Ketut... funny.

- Do local residents have abortions? Do they have kindergartens?

No, local women do not have abortions. Their children are like gods; they carry children in their arms for up to a year and do not even put them on the floor. They do not have kindergartens. When one-year-old children run along the roadway, their mothers do not scold them, because they understand everything themselves. When I went there, everyone in Russia said that it was a third world country. Not true. Yes, these people live by instincts - like animals. But they are happy, everything is built on love. There are smiles and love. Of course, we don’t have that.

But what about temptations, drugs, alcohol? You yourself said that Bali is an island of demons, where people fall into a trap, that there is complete impunity...

In general, yes, although there is a death penalty for drugs. There are a lot of people in prison there. Mostly they are Europeans, but when I left two years ago, there were also Russians.

The island of Bali is remarkable because it promotes a healthy lifestyle, healthy eating. How does the day start there? People go to yoga or surfing, thank everyone, hug everyone. And in the evening, when the sun sets and darkness sets in, a person falls into a trap. He is weak by nature... If you have worked hard, you need to rest. And rest can be different - including alcohol and drugs.

How do they protect children from this? No way... Parents do not forbid them to do anything at all - complete freedom! You choose what you need.

The biggest sin of our time is selfishness: we seem to know everything!

I saw all this, and gradually I began to feel alienated from it all, including business. Before leaving for Bali, I had virtually no interest in books. And then I began to voraciously read spiritual, philosophical books about the body and psyche, about psychology. The people I met along the way were interesting, completely different from those with whom I interacted in Moscow. I worked, surfed, traveled, but at the same time I tried to understand what a person is, what the body and soul are, why we think this way. I realized that there was a serious substitution of values, I realized that in fact it was all superficial. People say: “We have become enlightened, we have become purer, better, we have understood what life is, what God is, we ourselves know what kind of religion we need.” But as soon as such a person returns home to his family, to his parents, it becomes clear who he really is. This happened to me. You come and you can’t control yourself! You don't like being taught, so you start teaching yourself. The biggest sin of our time is selfishness: we seem to know everything!

There are now a huge number of forums about Bali. If something happened to a person, people immediately wrote. Let’s say someone crashed their bike, they don’t have insurance, they need help. People can give money just so that they think that they have helped a person, but people are not ready to come and take care of them, and take on all the worst things. There is no compassionate, spiritual help, only material help. It's not bad, but it's different! A person in Bali does not understand that he is in some kind of trap. The island is famous for the fact that all nations are there. Huge diasporas of French, Italians, Germans, and Americans live there for a long time, and not just as tourists. They live as communities, communes. But if the Italians or the French at least somehow help each other, then the Russians do not.

- I’m very sorry to hear this... But is your story from Bali over? What was the main conclusion you drew from it?

Yes, my story from Bali is probably over. This is an amazing place that taught me a lot. I realized that a person can do anything if he has faith, love, hope, if he loves and lives in God. These are not just words. I met a huge number of people who changed their faith, worshiped other gods, and made sacrifices. 99% of people said: “God is within us. And why do we need to impose all these conventions?” But a person who has read the Scripture at least once will not be able to forget these words. Take this book and just read it...

I have to admit that my coming to God was not the result of a conscious and consistent spiritual search, but was to a very large extent determined by chance.

My parents raised in me respect for faith as a tradition, nothing more. I grew up as a completely prosperous, more or less successful, moderately happy person. I had no serious misfortunes or discord. Not too early, but, perhaps, I still said goodbye to childhood maximalism too easily and got used to making adjustments for the discrepancy between what I wanted and reality. The fact that people live uncleanly and that it is probably impossible to live cleanly did not cause joy, but was accepted as a fact. And with the church it generally lay on different planes. Church for me was churches and icons, which I liked or not, incomprehensible rituals, even more incomprehensible people, often deprived of something, as it seemed to me - by fate, health, intelligence or luck, who found themselves in illusions. True, among the believers there were people so clearly outstanding that even a very developed conceit could not write them down as deprived. It was a punch on the nose, but I never had the opportunity to get close to such people, or even observe them from the sidelines for any length of time.

When I tried to read the Bible, especially the Gospels, I always felt awe. The diamonds of wisdom here sparkle so brightly that I recognized the authority of the Gospel ethics unconditionally, but somehow managed to “not notice” the Lord in the Gospel. Everything that had to do with faith was for me color, convention, symbolic language. In addition, much was incomprehensible (and, of course, there was no one to ask) and it was generally difficult to read. I took that strange position that is typical of many of my friends: no one will say that the Bible is bad; on the contrary, unconditional atheists believe that it is good that it is true. Only God, of course, does not exist. And Christ, if he existed at all, was most likely a madman, considering himself the Son of God. Not only did I not understand the authenticity, the vital concreteness of the Gospel, but I did not even make any serious efforts to at least try to master what formed the basis of the lives of many generations of people.

Over the years, the feeling of emptiness gradually grew, at first unconsciously, in the form of fatigue from everyday life. Later I realized that this feeling was intensifying and its source was that “everything is vanity.” However, everyday life did not allow time to look for what was not vanity. After all, there were such important problems in their concreteness, and in general the search for the meaning of life at thirty years old is simply ridiculous. Therefore, the very thought of vanity turned into coquetry, and I did not realize that the real drama of meaninglessness is the poison that poisons both my life and soul.

It is necessary to note one more point. Among the people of my generation and my circle, a peculiar style of communication has developed, which was apparently a consequence of our two-faced reality (hopefully a thing of the past). A sincere thought, expressed out loud, on a serious topic, on the topic of morality, was considered a manifestation of bad taste. The spirit of irony, skepticism, making fun of everything in the world, and reasoning reigned. Often it was protective mask, but perhaps even more often the mask fused with the face, giving rise to closedness and isolation. This became such a habit that almost any manifestation of feeling caused a feeling of awkwardness and disgust as a sign of lack of intelligence. I don't want to generalize; the above probably doesn't apply to everyone. But it exists, and I was (and probably remain, in many ways) a victim and bearer of the ethics of the joke. Need I say what fruits cold arrogance brings?

This is what the “scene of action” was in general terms when the events that turned my life upside down began to occur. My son was born and began to grow up. It is an absolutely extraordinary thing to observe the development of a “new”, a new consciousness from point zero. This is your own life, because it seems to me that even the physiological connection with the child is not completely broken at the moment of birth. You know his every physical and mental movement. You really live his life, but at the same time you still see this life from the outside, from the position of adult consciousness and experience. It's like you're being given another try to start over. And again, questions of existence and relationship with the world arise before you, but now with greater urgency, uncompromisingly, with full responsibility. On the other hand, a child opens your heart to a completely unknown joy, irrational in its simplicity, surprising and inexplicable, dealing a crushing blow to habitual skepticism.

In order for my son to grow up as a literate person, I started telling him about the Bible. Be very careful not to pressure him with any ideology from childhood. But the son perceived everything in his own way. It was difficult for him to understand my reservations like “there are people who believe (and there are those who do not believe) that there is a Spirit who created everything; that there is an opinion about the origin of man not from the monkey.” The son had not yet suffered from duality and was not accustomed to suppressing the very simple childhood knowledge of the uniqueness of truth. So he accepted God into his heart and “showed” God to me. When a child at the age of four said: “God exists,” I suddenly clearly saw that this was so and that everything was simple.

Here I will go back a little again, at the risk of boring the reader with my reflections. Looking at the old me, it would probably be difficult to imagine a person more “unsuitable” for God. I never cease to be amazed that God entered my rationalistic life. Somehow (probably from my parents this “plus” sign in front of Orthodoxy came, although without understanding) the idea developed that believing is good. But I didn’t even try this possibility on myself, since faith still seemed like a happy delusion, a “golden dream.” In addition, it is generally not typical for me to take anything on faith, and I have always treated all sorts of para-phenomena with great distrust. Since I didn’t see the difference between faith and superstition, deep down in my soul I might have wanted to be a believer, but the burden of previous experience (prejudices, as is now clear) seemed too heavy. Only one path of persuasion existed for me - the path of arguments and logic.

The child stood outside of authority. He was so (by definition) unable to convince me of anything by the usual means of argument that a miracle happened. Due to the obvious difference in “weight categories” and the impossibility of intellectual competition, my mind “slept through” the situation. The rationality valve did not work. When my son simply and confidently told me: “God exists,” I clearly felt that there was no need to clear away a mountain of arguments that I thought would not be possible to clear. There was no mountain, the path was short. It's hard to describe, it was an epiphany and it shocked me. Naturally, this state did not last long, but I remembered it. I didn’t immediately rush to church, because my ideas about the church were very biased, and I didn’t even suspect the Church with a capital C, and yet I remembered my discovery.

What followed was a chain of accidents. In Yasenevo, where I live, an Orthodox gymnasium of the Radonezh society opened, I began to take my son there for elective classes on “Fundamentals of Spiritual Culture.” Everything was not so simple, many things were repulsive. Apart from a purely rational desire to give his son a good upbringing, nothing connected him with the Orthodox. We spoke in different languages. And yet I felt that the truth was out there somewhere. I decided to be baptized. If they had asked me then why, I would not have been able to answer, I would not have been able to put into words my new feelings. Because if the spirit was preparing to be born, then the shell was the same, reason, sweeping aside all “mysticism,” was on guard. As I thought, there was no one to consult with (but in fact, I was simply not ready to talk about such topics). It was a frivolous decision, and I was punished: the event of baptism was quite consistent with my spiritual state. They performed an incomprehensible act on me without asking anything. Having done everything as I was told, I felt lost and deceived. It’s bittersweet to remember this now. At the same time, I clearly understood that the matter was serious. What we need to finally figure out.

And then another accident happened. I have very good friends at work, with whom, due to circumstances, I had little contact at that time, and before that I communicated closely and treated them very warmly. Once, when I went to see them on business and overheard some snippet of conversation, I talked about the gymnasium and said that the path to faith alone was now impossible and that I needed a teacher and guide. This was brave for me because I believed that I was saying this to convinced atheists. And what a surprise it was when it turned out that people whom I knew well were being announced. I was suggested to try this path.

You can say that when I came to the announcement, I still didn’t believe it. It would be strange to believe in something you don’t know. I was one of those who didn’t mind. Moving forward was very difficult at first; I was especially zealous in guarding my freedom, afraid of being ideologically fooled, and perceived everything rather warily. But fortunately, I felt in time that in such a desire to maintain independence and “objectivity” there is in fact a strong dependence on an already established worldview. The addiction is so strong that I cannot perceive other experiences and hear others, despite respect and the desire to listen. And then I told myself that a person who is free and confident in his instinct for the truth will not constantly hide behind “opinion” as a shield, and I began to listen persistently and patiently.

It is no coincidence that I could not write about this earlier - I did not realize what was happening, and when I said: “I want to believe,” it was not entirely true. This is what I want to believe now. Joy has come, light has come, with which I will never part.

Personal covenant

There is a wonderful story about how one hermit exclaimed: “Lord, I have been looking for You for thirty years. Where are you?" And the Lord answered him: “For thirty years I have stood behind your back.” And now, when I found myself faced with the need to tell about my path to God, I remembered this story. I can say with complete confidence that for a very long time I began to vaguely sense the existence of some kind of reality, elusive, but at the same time more real than anything. It was this mysterious presence that made my soul worry, seek a way out of the labyrinth of absurdity and hopelessness - the joyless place of residence of a soul that had fallen away from God. With the acquisition of some life experience and after the very first encounters with evil, I began to feel that a person, defeated by sin, moves away from true reality, leaves existence, becomes a shadow. This sad experience of being in non-existence was very instructive for me. He made me hunger for real life and turn to searching for its source. Perhaps these feelings were not quite what I imagine them to be now, because being a biographer of your own soul is by no means easy.

WITH early childhood I believed in omens, witchcraft, the influence of stars on a person’s destiny, and I voraciously read all mystical literature. What did I not bother my poor head with then! All this knowledge later did me a disservice, leading me astray from the right path, greatly confusing me, and filling my heart with the pride of an all-knowing person. My eyes turned out to be clouded with fog, which did not allow me to see even the simplest spiritual truths. At that time, I felt like a toy in the hands of the elements, terrible, impersonal forces filling the cosmos. Having experienced fear from these influences, I began to pray. Raising my eyes to the sky, I asked for protection from the sun, stars, spirits, even from the goddess of love. I was then eighteen years old. I was arrogant, and since then luck was largely on my side, I attributed this to my power over the forces of nature. In my spiritual life I was left to my own devices. There was not a single Christian around. It seems that I even became acquainted with the opinions of the heresiarchs earlier than with the Holy Scriptures. The sophisticated philosophy of these people delighted me then. I admired the paradoxical nature of thinking, unexpected turns of thought, and distortion of traditional ideas.

At the age of eighteen, I put a cross around my neck and decided to be baptized at the first opportunity. The reason for this action was one incident that frightened me greatly, which probably makes no sense to talk about. What is important is what I attached to baptism, wearing the cross, and mentioning the name of God magical meaning and tried to use them to protect themselves from the same dark ones, destructive forces, whose presence was quite obvious. Over time, completely unnoticed by myself, I became a monotheist and stopped looking for support from spirits and stars. In this regard, I want to talk in more detail about my first experience of knowing God.

Oddly enough, this happened to me after watching the film “The Hundred Days of Sodom” by Pierre Pasolini. My brother told me a lot about this film, saying that it made a monstrous, paralyzing impression on him and his friends. Indeed, the film shows terrible things. It takes place in Italy at the end of World War II. Several fascists, educated people who consciously sided with evil, lock themselves in the villa. Further in the film, truly monstrous things are shown with the mercilessness of the chronicle. The impression that you are making a journey through hell is enhanced by the fact that the film is divided into several parts by the credits - “Circle of Love”, “Circle of Shit” and “Circle of Blood”. At the end of the film, I left the theater in a crowd of depressed, oppressed people. It seemed that people were confused and disarmed. I was struck to the depths of my soul by the fact that I felt unusually light and light. It’s unclear where the knowledge came from within me that there is good and evil in the world. With new clarity for myself, I saw that evil is powerless if you are firm and if the Lord stands behind you. And I also realized that I was aware of my choice, that this choice was inevitable and that the only thing I owned was that I gave my free will to the Lord. In those moments, I made my personal covenant with God.

Then life returned to normal. Unfortunately, I could not understand then that the best way to know the truth is through communication with God, so I continued to look for the truth in books. True, it cannot be said that they gave me nothing. It was with great excitement that I read “The Pillar and Grounds of Truth” by Fr. Pavel Florensky, “Thoughts” by Pascal, as well as “The Life of Archpriest Avvakum”. My friend, who recently became a Christian and was amazingly transformed after that, gave me a small cheap icon of the Mother of God and a book by Archpriest Alexander Schmemann “By Water and Spirit.”

In general, everything was leading to me coming to Church. However, this was preceded by a serious test. It seems that for the first time in my life I seriously tried to fulfill the Lord’s commandment. The response was almost immediate. One unfamiliar woman, having learned about my long-standing desire to be baptized, recommended that I turn to the “good” priest - Fr. Pavel Vishnevsky. Father introduced me to a man who told me about the opportunity to go through the announcement. After much hesitation, I came to “open meetings” [Missionary meetings, for people who are interested in Christianity, but have not yet established themselves in their spiritual positions and are faced with a choice. These meetings complete the pre-agreement, after which the announcement cycle begins. – Note edit.]. Listening to priest Georgy Kochetkov, brothers and sisters, I felt that “out of the abundance of the heart their lips speak.” I believed and remained in the Church to serve the Lord to the best of my humble strength and glorify His name.

Joy

For as long as I can remember (since I was three years old), there has always been joy in my heart. Not for something, not for someone, but in general - the joy that I live, that the world is so beautiful, that everything is so good, that I am so amazing, unique and that all this will last forever. And indeed, everything turned out more or less successfully. I was cared for and loved. I also loved you back. I entered the institute I dreamed of. It seemed to me then that I would die of happiness - there was so much of it. And suddenly everything collapsed overnight. No, no tragedy happened, and outwardly everything remained the same, but inside...

I remember this day very well. Even this moment. I had just entered college and was returning home to Moscow. It was summer. The carriage was completely empty. Nobody stopped me from thinking. I remember that I was lying on the bottom shelf and smiling, and suddenly something happened. I physically felt that joy was leaving me. At first, I remember, I stopped smiling, sat down, then stood up. And I can’t understand what’s wrong. Or rather, I realized that I was missing something. I thought: maybe I’m hungry? I ate. Something is missing again. Then I began to walk around the empty carriage and think: what happened? Where did the joy that was in me all the time disappear? And I remember that I was terribly afraid of this. I got used to joy, and suddenly it was gone. How can we live without her? And why then live if there is no joy?

I came to Moscow a different person. No, it's not that I was sad or broken. I arrived still cheerful, joy appeared again when my native platform appeared. But I realized that there is probably some other joy. And from that moment on, I did not consciously, but rather subconsciously began to look for this joy. I didn't realize that I was looking for God. I didn’t think about God at all. Or rather, I thought, but only about whether He exists or not. And I came to the conclusion that most likely He doesn’t exist, because if He existed, then I would know about it.

I remember that I opened the Gospel for the first time while visiting a teacher whom I adored, and then only so that I had something to talk about with her, since I knew that she was reading the Holy Scripture. Having read three chapters of the Gospel of Matthew in Church Slavonic, I, of course, did not understand anything. I only remember that there was such an apostle Peter, about whom everyone knows that he renounced Christ.

Later, the girls and I went to church for Easter. And I decided that this time I would definitely understand whether God exists. But the church was so hot, there were so many people, and the service lasted so long that I again did not understand anything. And I was very offended that God did not give me any sign so that I could feel His presence. He didn’t give so he didn’t give, and this, as I thought, was the end of my attempts to communicate with Him.

I graduated from college and got a job. And suddenly I began to notice an amazing thing. I called it intuition. I had intuition before, but now it seems to have become especially strong. When I listened to her and did as she told me, then after some time it became clear that this was the only right thing. When she began to doubt, thinking: “No, no, circumstances are against me,” and seemed to drown out her voice, then it turned out that she was right.

In 1992, on Epiphany of the Lord, my mother and I were baptized. And this is where some terrible streak of failures began. At first I couldn’t understand what was going on. Why do I often break my legs? Why am I in unhappy love? In general, there were a lot of “whys”? I began to reflect and discovered a very important thing: after baptism, I tried to live the same life as before, but I can no longer live the same life. And I also realized that I would have to sacrifice something, give something away. But I didn’t want to sacrifice. In the depths of my soul I thought: “Well, that’s someday later.” My intuition told me: “It won’t happen later.” And I persisted: “Yes, I’m not ready yet...” And she repeated: “It won’t happen later.” I didn’t really understand what to do. But gradually, with difficulty, everything got better. My mother and I started going to church. We didn’t understand anything, we were tired. I began to pray, clumsily, as best I could. Over time, I began to have a strange feeling, as if something good was about to happen. I didn’t know what was good and where it came from, but this premonition was becoming more and more clear. Six months before I went to the announcement, I already knew for sure that something would happen to me. And I also had the feeling that this JOY, which I knew nothing about, was somewhere close. Moreover, I began to feel the presence of SOMETHING or SOMEONE in the world. I realized that God exists. I started reading the Holy Scriptures, but I didn’t understand anything in it and thought: “Lord! If only someone could teach me!”

A few months before I came to the announcement, I met a woman, a teacher. One day, for some reason, I called her, and she told me about “open meetings” and unexpectedly offered to come. Mom and I came. I will never forget how my heart beat and how the JOY I knew from childhood returned to me.

The first thing I read, when I began to become public, was A. Me’s book “Son of Man.” I swallowed it in one gulp. It was a shock. I finally understood what the Gospel is and that if I put this small book on the scales, it would outweigh all the volumes of smart books I had read previously.

When my mother and I first came to the Church of the Assumption of the Mother of God in Pechatniki [Temple of the Assumption Holy Mother of God in Pechatniki (Moscow), whose rector in 1991-1997. was a priest. Georgy Kochetkov. – Note edit.], then, being late, we got to the Liturgy of the Faithful. I was amazed by the faces of the people. I had never seen such faces anywhere, and suddenly I felt that I had to leave, because we were in a place where we had never been before. O it must be. Mom and I left. Then they began to go to the Liturgy of the Catechumens, to Vespers. Gradually, with God's help, we began to understand that O happens in the service.

And one more thing: miracles began to happen in my life. Maybe someone won’t see a miracle in this, but I know that it is a miracle, because only the Lord can do what He did for me.

Now I am making my announcement, the second stage begins. I pray that the Lord will help me, and I believe that He will certainly help.

The word "religion"

From early childhood I was familiar with the exclamation: “Oh Lord!” When its meaning dawned on me, I asked my mother why she, an unbeliever, repeated these words so often. Mom replied that it was a habit, that everyone said that. At school I learned that “before the revolution” there was still a habit of believing in God due to the “stupefaction” of the people. I didn’t want to be intoxicated, and to the question: “Do you believe in God?” I could firmly answer: “No.” The word “religion” scared me, but sometimes it was unclear why there was no Bible in the library and how one could judge something that one had not read. I didn’t know that you could buy a Bible at church (or was it possible?). Every time I found myself in front of the open gates of the temple, fear seized me and I did not dare to enter.

I was 12 or 14 years old when elder sister I don’t know how I found and wrote out the commandments from Scripture. She read them to me as an edification. For some reason, what was most strongly imprinted in my memory was: “As you want people to do to you, do the same to them.” I remember how stunned I was by the discovery that it is indeed easier to impose one’s will on another than to build relationships taking into account the freedom of one’s neighbor and one’s own.

As time went. Various questions arose, and the best and most important of them did not give rest. The concepts of love, freedom, beauty, harmony were opening up with new facets, and each discovery, now dazzlingly joyful, now piercingly sharp, now extremely simple (why did it take so long for me to understand?), inspired optimism and a desire to advance in knowledge.

Now the bitterness from dissatisfaction with school education is being replaced, and in the heart bigger place I am grateful to those teachers who did not discourage the desire to learn, but helped me learn more.

It turned out that after graduating from school, comparing my little knowledge, I was amazed at the harmony and coherence in the structure of the world. The feeling of this harmony led to the idea that the world is organized according to some kind of law, which man cannot understand. This was one of the most joyful discoveries. Since all such different things are connected together, then there is something that unites it all - some kind of higher Law. Man is limited by time, space, existence in order to comprehend this Law (although man’s potential is so great that he can approach understanding this Law indefinitely). What is this? What to call it? Higher intelligence? God? Apparently, This is what they call God. Later, the confidence came that God is one and that most religions are based on the worship of this particular God, but they call and understand Him differently. For some time I lived calmly with this understanding of God, without going into the subtleties of religious views.

Gradually I began to become familiar with Russian culture and art. And on one of the excursions - to the Trinity-Sergius Lavra - I realized that the doors of the churches are open to everyone, including me.

Now I am aware of how tirelessly and carefully the Lord helped (and is helping) me. One day at work, my boss said in one of our conversations: “The Bible teaches nothing bad” and listed some of the commandments - do not kill, do not steal, do not bear false witness, do not commit adultery, honor your father and mother.

These words reawakened my interest in the Bible. But when philosophical and religious literature, previously inaccessible, appeared everywhere, and mass appeals to the Church began, this somewhat cooled my ardor. I bought the New Testament, but after reading the first chapter of one of the Gospels, I put it aside. But at the same time, I gladly took part in the restoration of the Church of the Intercession of the Virgin Mary in Tver. This work somehow brought me closer to the Church, although I still went there very rarely.

Later, I met a wonderful woman who very patiently and carefully led me to the idea of ​​the need for baptism and the adoption of the Orthodox faith. True, one episode really scared me. In the summer of 1991, I was on vacation with my sister and her three-year-old daughter in Crimea. My sister wanted us all to be baptized there together, and asked me to become the girl’s godmother. I had no desire to be baptized. I perceived the baptismal ceremony, which I had to attend, as an act of violence against our child. To this day I am surprised how after this my friend managed to revive in me the spirit of trust in the Church. Of course, this was a manifestation of God's mercy, God's help. Unfortunately, I cannot remember those “magic” words that were spoken by her. I only remember the meaning that came to me that baptized person closer to God, that God sees him, helps him.

At the end of 1991, simultaneously experiencing both a need and some external pressure, I was baptized in the Vlasevskaya Church of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God in Tver. Subconsciously, I expected a miracle and, of course, I did not understand either the laws of the church or the meaning of the actions performed during the baptismal ceremony. We received communion immediately after baptism, but I learned that it was communion only three and a half years later. And then I reproached myself for resistance, for a lack of humility and reverence, since I did not like the fact that we, those being baptized, were given something to drink and something unknown was put into our mouths.

Then for a long time I could not bring myself to enter the temple. I thought my relationship with “religion” was over.

However, questions about the meaning of existence, about achieving beauty and harmony, about their place in human life continued to excite. The process of understanding everyday life also continued. Her vices and disorder were perceived more and more painfully. But God, out of His love, generously gifted me. My life was going wonderfully.

It so happened that my friend advised me to go to a meeting organized for people who were tormented by similar questions. That’s how I got to the first meeting of the Tver group of catechumens. At this meeting, the recording of priest Georgy Kochetkov’s lecture on Love made a strong impression on me. I was especially shocked by its obviousness and power of the idea that God is Love. But the direct connection of the announcement with the word “religion” repulsed me. Back then, “religion” meant “deception” to me.

I entered university, and studying in my first year absorbed all my attention. But the topic of disclosure sometimes came up temptingly in conversations with friends. Among the students I met people striving for God and faith. Once, while preparing for an exam, my friends and I spent the whole day talking about God and the Bible (and we all passed the exam with excellent marks). I was struck by the awareness of one of them, her sincere joy and reverence with which she spoke about God. It turned out that she was connected with Jehovah's Witnesses... Unbeknownst to me, I found myself at a crossroads: what to choose - the catechumen or Jehovah's Witnesses? I attended a meeting with some, then went to “open meetings” with others. And in the end I settled on the announcement. God bless! This choice did not complicate my relationships with my study friends, and they often helped me by answering some of my questions about the Bible and life.

When I review the events of the past, I notice how many unusual things have happened over the past two or three years. And what’s also striking is the connection between the events and meetings of recent years and my former life.

I am happy in those moments when my heart is open to gratitude to God and the people around me, and I understand that for such moments a person needs to work all his life. The one who walks will master the road.

Yoga couldn’t resist the “scoop”

I can date the beginning of my journey to the age of about 30 years. The occasion was the book by V. Sidorov “Journey to the Himalayas”. The book captivated me with its mystery, its search for something unusual, but, most importantly, it surprised me. An adult, V. Sidorov takes seriously the questions: what is the meaning of life? where is the source of everything? etc. So these questions have answers? Or rather, can they have? They arose for me, but, by the way, in the form of fruitless conversations.

After reading the book I started searching. I can't say now what I was looking for. Not God. No. Rather, some kind of atmosphere, people, ideas. Where are the answers? In the East, of course. People familiar with this topic were found, books appeared, and communication began. There were lectures by some semi-underground “gurus” and quite professional philosophers. It took a year or two to master the information. Over the next two years, the questions were realized, or rather, their depth was realized. There were no answers. It became noticeable that everyone I knew, with whom I communicated, argued, etc., was all “floating” here. Nobody really understood anything.

By this time (around the age of 33) I myself had become an esoteric specialist, and although I did not have explanatory answers, I was well versed in many Eastern teachings and religions. This somewhat compensated for the failure of my search. I still didn’t think about God. At best, within the framework of a good esoteric tone, as a kind of semi-abstract category: The Absolute, they say, what can you say, you understand...

At 33, I moved from St. Petersburg to the suburbs. Village. Residents: 40-50 people. The atmosphere of the “big zone”. Relationships are “gods and sixes.” This is to the point. And outwardly - ordinary village men plus a boss. In this “sergeant’s school” a year later, no stone was left unturned from my yogic-esoteric worldview. I found myself naked and confused. What kind of chakras are there, what kind of meditation with philosophy - a shovel in the teeth and off I go. In short, yoga couldn’t resist the “scoop”...

Soon I fell in love and got married. My wife was not a Christian, but she read the Gospel and sometimes quoted it. I became interested and began to read. The book was captivating. It was incomparably deeper than anything I had read so far, or rather, it was beyond boundaries and categories. Another dimension. We started reading together. Every day. There was a need to read, and then a desire to become a believer. Two years ago I could already say that I am a believer, and an Orthodox one at that. God gradually revealed himself to me, but the relationship with the church remained “you.” There was a desire to go to church, but there was also an obstacle. The fact is that I drank heavily from the age of 25-26. Binges. Many years. By the age of 33 I was coded and have not drunk since then. But what about the sacrament? I didn’t feel a vital need for communion, I just wanted it. After talking with Fr. Vasily, the rector of the Holy Pargolovsky Church, made up his mind and went to receive communion. Since then, I sometimes (once every 2-3 months) go to liturgy. Last year a feeling of insufficiency appeared, a feeling that was vague and seemingly insoluble: I don’t understand something, something is missing. The most main element. Which? Did not understand. Then the catechesis group appeared. My wife and I signed up, but at first I didn’t get to the meetings, so my wife brought home a cassette with a recording of a conversation with priest Georgy Kochetkov. It was the first time I heard the words “catechumen” and “churching.” These words turned out to be the last element that was missing. Everything fell into place. Now I want to live in the Church and by the Church.

School

When I was less than forty years old, I was baptized in the Orthodox Church. Thoughts about God and faith began to come about two years earlier. And before that, I was a worthy child of my time - a convinced atheist. Neither at school, nor as a student, and even much later, I had no doubts about this. My analytical mind thought soberly, and there was a firm conviction that the views of an atheist are the most correct.

But only in my early youth, when I found myself in an unfamiliar city or area, I went to a temple, I was drawn there, and at some point I dissolved in the atmosphere of the temple, losing my sense of time. Then, as if coming to his senses, to the question “what is this?” I immediately found the answer - a tribute to Russian traditions. That's all. Not really though. I have never agreed with the fact that churches were taken away from believers and they are used in an ugly, even blasphemous manner. Back in the 70s, while taking tour guide courses and studying the history of Moscow, I felt indignant when I became acquainted with evidence that the authorities followed a crazy idea - they decided to blow up the Cathedral of Christ the Savior and destroy other religious buildings.

Already in adulthood, about five or six years ago, when the biblical word became more accessible, I developed an interest in spiritual literature. My friends, seeing this, tried to dissuade me. Then, and even now, I was surrounded by very good, but unbelieving people. Now I feel sorry for them, but at that time, out of good intentions, as it seemed to them, they tried to explain to me that faith in God is not just stupidity, it is another yoke that I voluntarily hang on myself. I hope that someday they will change their beliefs, although the main thing for this is their desire. But then it made my path to God longer and more painful. And rightly so. For my doubts.

In those difficult days, full of painful doubts, I met my good friend and shared my thoughts with her. She, it turned out, became a believer - a Baptist and invited me to the Baptist church. They received me there very warmly, with joy that another sister came to them, I, frankly speaking, did not feel this in the Orthodox Church, but this is so necessary when you take your first steps. It was in the Baptist Church that my doubts began to recede. It was then that I believed in God, believed with all my soul. Thanks a lot for this the Baptist Church. But after a while I began to feel more clearly that I was missing something from the Baptists. And the presbyter’s sermons are smart, interesting, and I am surrounded by good brothers and sisters, and I feel good with them, but my soul is looking for something else. Even now I don’t fully understand why. Either there was not enough depth of the sacraments, or it was the call of the Orthodox ancestors...

But something made me leave the Baptists and come to the Orthodox Church, where I was soon baptized.

Three years have passed since my baptism, and I’m still on the threshold of Orthodoxy and I feel somehow strange: I can’t move forward, I can’t leave, and I’m still among the catechumens. I admitted this in confession and said that I don’t understand much about church canons and rules. But I received an answer that was both correct and insufficient: “Go to church more often, and everything will be clear.” At churches, here and there, children's Sunday schools are created, or rather they were created, now less often. But why children's? After all, we need to start with the parents, who were deprived of the main thing and now can neither achieve this main thing themselves nor give it to their children.

I am very glad that there is an Orthodox Christian school for adults and that I have found the way to it. I really hope that I will receive answers to numerous questions here, that this school will help me strengthen my faith.

"Open meetings"

My husband and son were baptized on the same day in the Kolomna Church in 1987. I was the only one in the family who remained unbaptized. Gradually I began to feel spiritual discomfort, the desire to be baptized grew every year.

In 1991, my baptism took place in the Danilovskaya Church, although I didn’t really like the form.

For the first time I heard about. George<Кочеткова>at the “open meeting” of the Catechetical School in the Vladimir Cathedral of the former Sretensky Monastery [Temple of the Presentation Vladimir icon Mother of God (Moscow) b. Sretensky Monastery, whose rector in 1990-1993. was a priest. Georgy Kochetkov. – Note edit.], where my husband took me in the summer of 1993, who at that time was being announced. The impression from the meeting was great, and yet I did not sign up for the group of catechumens, left the church and went home. Over the next few months, mental work began. It arose on its own, independent of me. There were many doubts, but I strongly felt that the time had come to choose a path. The main, most important stage in life has arrived. All the past years seemed aimless. But the bustle dragged on: lack of time, work, family. There was a struggle in my soul.

Although my husband did not insist on my decision, I felt his influence.

Next meeting with Fr. Georgiy took place in 1994. The three of us went - me, my son and my husband. We were late, standing at the entrance on the stairs. At first I tried to leave, because it was hard to hear and I couldn’t see anything. Then she began to listen, catching every word. And it was after this meeting that I clearly understood that the path had been chosen and I would follow it. There can be no other solution.

And now, analyzing my coming to the Church, I understand how important for a novice Christian are all the public meetings that Fr. Georgy.

Prayer

I grew up in an unbelieving family. Since childhood, I knew for sure that there is no God. Every time I fell asleep, I was afraid that I might die at night and wouldn’t even know it. But I would like to know. One day I started thinking about death and realized that if I died, then I would never, never exist again. I seemed to sink deeper and deeper into this thought and became horrified. I wanted to see my mother. It became unbearably painful and scary. But I didn’t tell anyone about my experiences. It seemed to me that they wouldn’t understand me anyway, and it was awkward to talk about such things. They preferred to remain silent about death, as if forgetting about it, pretending that it did not exist (because deep down in their souls, even adults were afraid of death). I was afraid to think about it, but something attracted me to this thought. I sometimes returned to her and tormented myself. It seemed to me that if I delved even deeper, some kind of solution would come, because I could not understand that I would never exist.

I was not interested in issues of human spirituality, and I did not know that such a thing existed. For me, the concept of “man” meant, first of all, his body.

During my school years I was very fond of fairy tales and stories about all sorts of miracles, and then science fiction. I dreamed of human immortality and hoped that even before my old age, medicine would be able to do everything. Once a friend and I talked about how, in principle, it is possible to believe in God and it doesn’t seem to be harmful, but only in old age, when there is nothing to do.

During military service For the first time I began to think about why I live, I began to look for the meaning of life, to analyze my actions. I realized that sometimes, or quite often, I acted or thought badly. But I didn’t know why. I didn't want to be bad, and maybe that was because I didn't like bad people. I was afraid of them. I tried to correct myself, sometimes it worked. It was gratifying, and I wanted to improve even more. Began to be interested in philosophy. I wanted to enter the Faculty of Philosophy, but did not pass the competition. I bought various books about the occult, flying saucers, and meditation. I believed it because people wrote about what they experienced. I realized that there are other spheres of existence. Stopped believing in the great ape.

One day I bought a book about the Hare Krishnas. I was very interested. I liked everything there so much. For the first time in my life, I met a God who controls everything, who loves us, whom we should love too, and who promises us immortality. I started going to their temple. But I didn’t really like it there. My wife came there twice, but then she said she wouldn’t come again.

In general, the Hare Krishna religion interested me very much. I tried to live following their instructions and practiced asceticism. Christianity didn’t interest me, because everyone around me was Christian, but they didn’t believe in God. I thought that this was normal, that this was Christianity, like some kind of moral standard of life - and nothing more. And the Hare Krishnas believed in their god and proved it with their lives. I understood that if a person does not live the way he thinks, it means that we are simply talking about some kind of science or the acquisition of some kind of knowledge.

I had a friend who studied at the theological faculty. He and I talked a lot about God. I defended my point of view, he defended his. Among the Christians I knew, he was the first Christian to believe in Christ as God. Gradually I came to the idea that it makes no difference in whom to believe - in Christ or in Krishna, but in Krishna - it is higher. I simply did not understand or know Christ. And how could I understand Him if I had never read the Gospel? I didn’t know that He loves us, that He is really alive and close, that the God who revealed Himself to us through Him is our Creator and our Father.

I don’t remember how, my wife and I started going to the Lutheran church and praying like Christians. However, while praying, I didn’t really understand what I was doing, why it was and whether God heard me. There was a desire to be baptized, to learn more about God, to learn to pray. I was eager to get a book on prayer. The Lutherans did not have this. My friend recommended me a book about. What about me. I really liked it, but it was too short. I wanted to read about prayer again and again, and my soul became warm. The next book was about Elder Silouan, which shook me to the core. When I read about how Christ appeared to the elder, I wanted to cry. I've read this passage over and over again. The words, thoughts, feelings, and life of the elder revealed such a depth and height of spiritual life that I had never even dreamed of.

I became interested in the Jesus Prayer. Someone told me that good books can be bought at Orthodox churches. I came to the church and immediately met the priest, who turned out to be Latvian. Thus, the myth was dispelled that Orthodoxy is a matter only for Russians, and the Lutheran faith is a matter for Latvians. The priest led me deeper into the church. We talked for about 15 minutes, but, leaving the church, I already knew that I had finally found what I was looking for, that I would be an Orthodox Christian, although all my relatives, acquaintances and friends were Protestants and it was unknown whether my wife would understand my decision. But with God everything is possible, and now all members of my family are Orthodox. I was happy that I had found Orthodoxy, and could not understand why my Lutheran friends did not want to accept it.

I only talked about the external side of events. I still don’t clearly understand how this happened internally. I know that there is God’s providence, which is in many ways incomprehensible to me, and it depends on me whether to resist it (which I often do) and not know God, or to meet Him halfway and love Christ with all my heart.

Does Orthodoxy make sense?

When I was very young, I thought about God and I wanted to know if He really existed. But gradually atheistic propaganda drowned out the beginnings of faith in me. I began to be afraid of churches with their twilight, strange smell and incomprehensible rituals. When I was in second grade, my mother wanted to baptize me, but I flatly refused, despite persuasion.

As I grew up, I began to think about the meaning of life, about ways to find it. I became interested in philosophical problems. One day I clearly understood that God exists and that I want to know what He is like, although it is difficult for me now to remember how I came to this conclusion. I decided to first look at what is in this world, and then come to Him. In the sea classical literature, studied at school, I looked for places that could help me learn at least something about Him. I started reading everything I could get my hands on. This is how I came across Ivan Efremov and through him I came to yoga, extrasensory perception and Hare Krishnas. I absorbed everything like a sponge: I took meditation courses, studied astrology and various types of fortune telling. For me, everything related to spirituality was divine. I didn't think about the existence of the devil.

Then I made friends who shared my views. We led a free lifestyle, not attaching importance appearance, the opinion of people around him and neglecting morality and reason. We acted according to the desires of our hearts, loved romantic trips, high ideals and philosophical conversations. But most of all we argued about God. Then we realized that there are a lot of people like us, they call themselves “hippies” and wear long hair and ripped jeans. I was attracted to their emancipation and the fact that they accepted me for who I am. Among them were many different people with opposing views, but all were united by disappointment in life, a desire to somehow change it, a thirst for love and hope for the best.

In this environment I had a friend who sincerely thirsted to know God. Before my eyes, he began to change - he stopped drinking, smoking, and began going to Baptist meetings. From him I first began to learn about who Christ is. Before this, I was practically unfamiliar with Christianity. He told me everything he learned himself, and I began to understand a lot differently. I felt that there was something more behind the figure of Christ than I had seen in other religions and schools of human thought. I was ready to become a Christian, but I was confused by the intolerant, as it seemed to me, attitude of Christians towards other religions and lack of freedom. I liked Baptist meetings, they often moved me to tears, and at them I realized that I was a sinner. But after the meetings, this state of joy instantly disappeared; I felt a discrepancy between words and deeds. At the same time, I began to read the New Testament and go to the Orthodox Church. But even there I did not receive the proper response. Although I was baptized there, it did not affect my life. I was experiencing an internal crisis. I was between heaven and earth. People who considered me one of their own were strangers to me in spirit, and those who were close did not accept me for who I am. As a result, I abandoned everyone, tried to walk on my own for several months, read the Bible and the Philokalia, but a contradiction arose between what was desired and what was actually done. In the end, I became completely confused and fell.

The Lord pulled me out of this abyss and brought me to the Pentecostal church. I was amazed by the simplicity and faith of these people. I realized that I had to stay here. There she found friends, became stronger and was baptized in faith, giving an account of her actions. I left the unloved Academy and miraculously entered art college. My life began to change before my eyes. I saw how the gospel word can be embodied in reality. I saw the casting out of demons from people possessed by them, speaking in other tongues, prophecies.

The Lord became very close to me. For some time I rejoiced and basked in happiness, not noticing anything around. They call this state the “period of first love.” But gradually, what I saw in the world through rose-colored glasses began to fade, and I encountered many problems, inconsistencies, mistakes, misunderstandings and often a superficial approach. I tried to fight it, but nothing worked.

Last summer I wanted to escape from my problems and went on vacation, trying to collect my thoughts and fix everything. But she came back, and the problems remained.

When I came to a meeting at the Catechetical School, I saw there what I had been missing all this time - meaning. For the first time I heard that the Church is the totality of the Spirit and meaning. I know what the abundance of the Holy Spirit is. But together with the meaning, you rarely see it in our church.

Our little church is like a boat on the ocean. There is no compass, no map, but only faith and hope for salvation. She is tossed from side to side by the wind, and sometimes it seems that death is inevitable, but miraculously she reappears from the water and again floats in an unknown direction.

For some time I went here and there. But in the end I realized that I could no longer stay in that church. I talked to the pastor and he let me go.

Now I'm at a crossroads again. I don’t know where to find the totality of spirit and meaning.

Is Orthodoxy the church in which, on the one hand, there is a manifestation of the gifts and fruits of the Holy Spirit, and on the other hand, there is a combination of them with a serious approach, meaningfulness and wisdom - this question remains open to me.

I hope that classes at the Catechetical School will help me figure this out.

Ancient Horror

How do they usually start a story like this, with what words? Don't know. Some met Christ suddenly on their way, without expecting it themselves, like the Apostle Paul, others walked towards Him painfully slowly, all their lives. I belong to the latter, so it is difficult to choose a starting point for the beginning of the story, since every event in life now seems full of deep meaning and significance.

I was born and lived in an unbelieving family, far from the faith and the Church, and, of course, I had no idea about Christ, except for rumors and stupid superstitions. I had to visit more than once active temple(Armenian-Gregorian), more than once, following the example of those around him, tried to “appease” God with candles. Although my parents were baptized according to custom, I was not baptized. And it’s good, because they would also baptize me according to custom, and I would already consider myself a Christian and, perhaps, I would calm down on that.

Until I was 15 years old, I had no “collisions” with God. I remember when I was 10 years old, my classmates and I had an argument about whether there is a God or not. To prove that He does not exist, I spat into the sky. Lightning did not fall, but for some reason that same day I asked Him for forgiveness with tears. Indeed, there are no absolutely unbelieving people.

God brings people to Himself in the most amazing ways. When our country was attacked by mysticism, occultism, astrology, etc., among all this, I became interested in Jesus Christ. My knowledge about Him was... There was none! I judged Him according to some of my own theories that came from nowhere. But the more I judged Him, the faster I turned from indifferent to sympathetic. At the age of 15, the most important thing began.

For six months now, I have been interested in solving dreams, I have a dream book, I have a newspaper in my hands, which talks about a new method of fortune telling. And suddenly mom brings home a small book. It was a brochure by Protestant preacher J. Vandeman, “Beyond Miracles.” It talked about the satanic nature of the occult, astrology and everything like that, to which the philistines like me are vicious. I am faced with the problem of choice.

Either - or... After five minutes, the dream book and the newspaper go piece by piece into the trash can. The trial of “higher knowledge” was quick and final. However, the trial of my former life had not yet begun; I did not become a Christian. Not so simple. Before deciding to leave Egypt, it is necessary to become disgusted with its slavery. They say God shakes a person with suffering and failure to revive him. This is true. Failures with friends at school and at home in the family, which I used to curse, now I bless. Indeed, no external prosperity speaks of success, no disaster necessarily means misfortune. How do people live without God, how did I live? Waiting for something. Tomorrow they will show a good film - there is meaning in life, the New Year is coming - your soul becomes lighter. But the film (which I’ve seen a hundred times) ends, the holiday passes, and then what? This question is like a stone wall, there are no objections to it, because any objection is a lie, self-deception, mockery of oneself. There is no scarier question than this. There is no more salutary question than this. How many people did he pull out of the swamp? At first it matures in the very center of your being, but until you can hear it, it is drowned out by noise. The same noise that, as Screwtape writes (“Letters of Screwtape” by Clive Lewis), reigns forever in hell. It helps to silence the conscience. But the time comes when it clearly stands before a person: choose.

I was 17 years old when I chose. One autumn morning I woke up with the determination to become a Christian. I want to be him, I will be him. Whatever needs to be done for this, I will do it. For two years now, I have had on my shelf the book by the preacher Ellen White, “The Way to Christ.” I never condescended to her. That's what I need. Where to start to become a Christian? – I started studying the book. These days I had a dream. I often had dreams about Christ both before and after that. Pleasant dreams, but, alas, they are deception, charm. I'm just now realizing this. But this dream is the only one of all in which I am absolutely sure. There is no obsession, vagueness, or flattery in it, but there is something that cannot be explained in words, that exists in the mystical experience of every Christian.

The dream was like this: someone inspired horror in everyone - horror that only happens in a dream. He persecuted everyone and, as it were, everyone individually. It was impossible to tear myself away from him. Fear radiated from him, unbearable, impossible. And so he began to pursue me. The strange thing was that I clearly felt some kind of unity between me and him, as if I was him, this very ugliness from which it is impossible to escape. I ran, he followed me. Unexpectedly for myself, I threw myself on my knees and screamed to Christ for salvation. At that same moment, the one who was running after me disappeared, disappeared along with the atmosphere of horror that reigned in the dream. Instead, I clearly felt the presence of Christ. It was so strong that I cried in a kind of calm delight. A strange combination that I had never experienced before.

When I woke up, I understood the dream. The one who terrified was my sin, sinfulness in the flesh, that which we do not see or hear on the surface of life, but which is truly terrible. Only Christ can save from the persecution of sin, but until a person is horrified by looking at himself, he cannot truly follow Christ. Then I read in the Gospel the words that only those who hate themselves can become a disciple of Christ.

It’s strange, but I almost don’t remember the day of my conversion and what happened then. But I already began to consider myself a Christian. I didn’t go to church: I had prejudices against the church. I liked Protestants - I considered them true Christians. However, in our small town there was no Protestant community, and I had to get out of the situation myself. First, it was necessary to get a Bible. I didn’t want to go to church, and the Bible was not sold in stores at that time. But when I went to a bookstore, I saw the Gospel and bought it. When I read it, I realized that the whole Bible was needed. I went there again. On this day we received new books, among them the New Testament. I started reading it. But the supply of Christian books was rather poor. My first Orthodox writer is Fr. Alexander Men. I was brought up on his books. He then saved me through them from death. This is a very important part of the story for me. I approach her with horror.

As you know, we are perishing from many false Christs and false prophets prophesying about the “end of the world.” I fell for the bait of one of them. In the summer of 1993, a leaflet from the notorious “White Brotherhood” came into my hands. I still remember with a shudder the subsequent events. I doubted: “What if Christ really came to earth?” And, having decided to put an end to the question that was tormenting me, I turned to God with a prayer: “Open my eyes, show me whether what is written in this leaflet is true.” I had prayed to God before in difficult situations, but now I prayed with the desire to receive a definite answer: “Yes, it is true.” I wanted the last day to come sooner, because I thought it was difficult to live a long life on earth with all its troubles. Of course, I didn’t clearly think so (obviously I “wanted” God’s will), but in the depths of my heart, in the way of life (I almost abandoned the Bible), this desire was strong. And so the feeling began to strengthen in me that all these leaflets were fair. I trusted this feeling, although many things embarrassed me: the aggressiveness of the “brothers”, the unacceptable tone of the leaflets, etc. But I suppressed the voice of reason and gave free rein to “intuition,” because I believed that if I relied on God in such a matter, then it could not be that He would let me down and let me perish, believing a lie. I had prayed to Him before: “Do not let me accept a false prophet and reject the true one.” I had an experience - with the help of prayer I did not believe the Moonies.

With such confidence, I began to believe more and more in the “white brothers,” and the more I believed them, the more I considered it necessary to believe (after all, God will not allow those who trust Him to perish). It was a vicious circle. My state after accepting the “living God” was similar to the state after my conversion, which I saw as proof of the truth of my new faith. But the strangest thing in this story is that I had no idea about the creed of the sect. Jesus said that His words would not change, so I did not consider it necessary to understand the teachings of the “white brothers”. I lived as before, having no idea about the prohibitions and taboos of this sect. I didn’t leave home, I didn’t abandon my studies, I didn’t curse anyone, I didn’t abandon my parents. And what’s also terrible (no, good!) is that I didn’t know (and didn’t even say a word) any of the “brothers.” Somehow I didn't have to. I believed that I trusted God absolutely, which means that looking for new evidence was an act of distrust and lack of faith. If it were a lie, God, through my prayer, would protect me from it. This is what my “faith” rested on. It is also interesting that I did not like the leaders of the sect; I read their newspapers with disgust, but was afraid to admit it to myself. I liked the old Christ, Jesus, and didn’t like Maria Devi at all. However, I reproached myself for this and even found an argument: “After the Resurrection, Jesus appeared to the apostles in a different form, but this did not prevent them from recognizing Him and loving Him.” This whole story would be funny if it weren’t for my active preaching activities. It seemed reprehensible to me to sit quietly at home while “Christ” and the “brothers” were “saving” people. I wrote the text of the leaflet and posted 194 copies in two months. I posted them in the subway (I wasn’t afraid and wasn’t lazy to get up at 5 am), on trains, buses, on the streets, in entrances, etc. I wrote a bunch of messages to various religious organizations and letters to newspapers. Almost converted my mother. Thank God I didn’t convert. I had to argue (and for a very long time) with the parishioners of one Protestant church. In two months I have done a lot of things, I cannot calmly remember about it, although I have already cleansed myself with repentance and washed myself with holy baptism (I was not baptized then).

However, doubts did not leave me. I was unsure of my faith. The more I entangled myself in sophistry and casuistry, the more I applied my main argument, the more I doubted it. In prayers he was even afraid to say: “Maria Devi...” He preferred to represent Christ before him. He cheated his soul. The days passed in tension, my faith hung by a thread. I tried to support her in every possible way: “It cannot be that God has failed me. He says: “Knock and it will open. Ask and you will receive." One day I had a strong desire to give up on everything and give up faith in general - all faith. I had the feeling that a thin film separated me from death: it was about to break. Any movement was enough. But I survived. The end of the world has passed. Nothing happened, everything was as before. They caught everyone, I was left alone, I didn’t post any more leaflets. But I did not lose heart: “It cannot be that God would do this to a man and let him perish.”

And then one evening, January 16, 1994, Sunday, I was reading a book by Fr. Alexandra Me “In Search of the Path, Truth and Life.” There were some words in it about how people are easily succumbed to false prophets. They really confused me. Such a wave of doubt washed over me that I almost suffocated. I was in a frenzy, in complete confusion, in darkness, in terrible melancholy. Unbearable condition! I was afraid to turn to God with a prayer for the truth, since I considered it an act of lack of faith to repeatedly turn to Him with such a request. But my faith was undermined. Then I screamed to Maria Davy: “Save me from doubts” - it didn’t help. I was tormented by the words of Christ: If anyone tells you: here is Christ, or there, do not believe it. He was afraid to pick up the Bible - an act of lack of faith. What I experienced then is difficult to express. In the end, I did open the Bible with those very words. Feverish, trembling, with a kind of deadly determination, I began to carefully study everything Jesus said about false Christs, turning to parallel passages. Nothing came to mind. And suddenly I understood. Got it. The realization came that I had found a solution. The doubts are over, somewhere in the depths of my being they are over. I just have to wait. So I felt that I was rapidly flying towards a thin film. Everything has already been decided, I just have to wait. The film broke through. At that moment I felt Christ, Himself. So much so that there are no words to express it. Here He is here, in this room, but at the same time everywhere. I didn’t feel this way even on my first visit. I let out a sigh of relief. Finally! I immediately tore up the leaflets, all these newspapers, everything - into the trash bin. On January 29, 1994, I was baptized, because I had long wanted this and longed for the Church, longed for it.

What did this experience give me? A lot of things. I learned something important - not to rely on feelings, on delight, on inspiration. I fell in love with the Church and the Bible. In this seemingly strange way, God answered my prayer: “Help me distinguish true prophets from false ones.”

Their

I was born in 1947, and until I was 30, the question of God did not arise for me.

My father is from the Tver village of Zavidovo, and as a family we constantly went there to visit. We all went to church and to the cemetery together. There were a lot of people at the service, and I only remember the singing of the choir, where one beautiful and clear voice stood out. Our relative Aunt Shura sang. She was wonderful person, love, peace and tranquility always reigned around her. We were all drawn to her. She was my son's godmother.

Later, when her children left, her husband died, and my parents grew old and could no longer visit her, I did this, and with great desire.

I arrived in Zavidovo at the beginning of the service, Aunt Shura sang, and I was in the church for the entire service. Then we walked home with her. Very quickly going to church became a necessity. When Aunt Shura died, I started going to our church - in the village of Gorodnya on the Volga.

Life went on, life was organized, my environment suited me quite well, but I constantly felt dissatisfaction, I was missing something. When I went to church, it became easier for a while, but only for a while. I felt like a guest in church.

Now I know that God does His works through people. Olga B. became such a person for me. She helped me get a job at a school where many of the teachers are believers. At school I felt an atmosphere of love.

When I was once again burdened by the bustle of life, my co-worker told me that all my problems could be resolved, and offered to go with her to Moscow for an “open meeting” with priest Georgy Kochetkov. I felt like I had finally found mine. Not knowing anyone, I felt like I belonged.

I began to attend public meetings, and in a short time a lot changed in my life, and most importantly, my attitude towards it became different. Now that I realized that God comes first, and then everything else, everything fell into place. I go to the catechumen and really hope to find full faith and God’s grace.

Elementary feeling of love

Woe to me, my mother, that you

gave birth to me as a person who argues

and quarrels with the whole earth!

(Jer 15:10)

For some, the path to God is short and straight, like the flight of an arrow. For others it is sudden and bright, like a flash of lightning. And some are born and live with God in their hearts all their lives.

My path to faith is tortuous, full of potholes, falls into abysses filled with the bitterness of sin. In order to raise your head and see the light, you just need to be sighted.

But how hard it is for insight to come! There is only hope that it is never too late.

There are no believers among my relatives and friends. On the contrary, my brother and I not only were not baptized in childhood, but were also brought up in an atmosphere of atheism, faith in a bright communist tomorrow... And the family lacked an elementary feeling of love. Probably, many families suffer from this now, when the love of parents for children and children for parents is replaced by a formal sense of duty and the responsibilities of one to the other. And this is burdensome; over time, alienation, irritation, and misunderstanding arise. What arises is not a feeling of joy and happiness from doing something for others, but a dull feeling of slavish dependence on the closest and dearest people. All this dissatisfaction results in quarrels and screams because we need to devote a lot of time and effort to each other and to the house. And I really want to live “for myself”! Life “for yourself” is always put off until later, and a dream arises of something pink and shiny. But in reality, everything is gray and mundane: duty to society and family. It seems that just a little more, just a little, I’ll strain myself, save some money, raise children and then... But life goes on. Summer gives way to autumn, hopelessness appears.

My mother always said: “I have never seen anything in my life. I’ve lived my whole life in debt, I’ve wasted it on you.” She means one thing, but I understand something completely different: it’s true – “I didn’t see”, and it’s true – “in debt”, and it’s true – “my life was ruined”.

All my life I felt like an “ugly duckling”, not because I was ugly outwardly, but because there was a feeling of loneliness, uselessness and internal ugliness. I always felt a “lack of communication,” maybe just a philosophical mindset demanded its toll. I don’t blame my family, but I see a lot in myself that I have acquired from them. I, like them, do not know how to love, only a sense of duty prevails. I work as a paramedic at "03". Everyone says: “It’s so hard, it’s such a responsibility!” This is probably true if you approach each patient informally. But in fact, he came, made a diagnosis, performed the necessary “manipulation”, everything was professional, honest, but soulless. You said goodbye, closed the door and forgot about the sick person. You just provided assistance; more is not your responsibility. What's next? Will the doctors at the hospital or clinic be able to continue what you started? Will they want to? Are your efforts in vain? Yes and only health care needed by a person, a sick person? But we have neither the strength, nor the time, nor the desire for more. How easy it is to be kind to a sick person for just an hour!

It's hard to take on a burden for life. My favorite writer from childhood, Antoine de Saint-Exupery, in “The Little Prince” says through the lips of his hero: “We are forever responsible for those we have tamed.” We are forever responsible for our family, for those around us, for the sick. But just a sense of duty has nothing to do with it, it’s too formal, there’s no truth to life in this concept. Previously, before the revolution, there were family doctors. They knew the patient and his family well. And they were responsible for their health – physical, mental, spiritual. You can’t escape such a responsibility by closing the door behind you, you can’t say: “There are no medicines, there are no places, duty is over and in general this is not my competence.” I don’t feel strong enough, at least now, to take responsibility forever; I don’t trust myself. No, I'm not afraid of breaking, but I don't want cold formalism.

Probably, it was this dissatisfaction with life and work that led me to search for the true source of love, truth and purity.

Of course, first the most low-grade things turned up along this path: false love, extrasensory perception, astrology, reiki. It seems like you are looking for the meaning of life, but you find all the paths that lead to the side. It doesn’t take long for one to descend into complete unbelief, pessimism, and despair. Yes, that's how it was...

Now I want to come to God, to faith. When I remember the past, I feel scared and ashamed. I have the most serious sins on my conscience, I want to repent of them, and it seems that there is not enough time to tell how this could happen. Maybe there is no need to delve into this “how”, what is more important is that it is now incompatible with me. When I don’t have enough strength to cope with temptations, I know: the Lord, to whom I turn in prayer, will not leave me.

There was a time when my soul split into two. I studied Zoroastrian astrology, but at the same time I was very attracted to Christianity, very drawn to it, although I knew about Christianity only in the volume of the reprint edition of “The Law of God.” This superficial knowledge did not make it possible to understand why the church is so uncompromising about astrology, bioenergy, etc. It seems to be kindness, selfless help to people. And the thought never occurred to me: is it good? is there any help? When my doubts and duality reached their climax, I decided to be baptized. Be baptized, but do not renounce. I was afraid that suddenly during the interview the priest would ask if I had studied astrology. I couldn't lie. But he didn’t ask... The miracle didn’t happen. It seems that intelligence has not increased, conscience has not calmed down, sins have not decreased. Everything was formal. But who knows, maybe it was that “mustard seed” from which a green sprout has now emerged.

After astrology there was a passion for reiki. And it was scary. I would be glad if my very negative experience could help at least someone.

Initiation is very interesting, very tempting, but very dangerous. This is something that, unfortunately, often attracts inquisitive, searching minds. Once during initiation, my friend “gave” clinical death. It’s good that we were sitting next to each other - me and several other doctors. We saved her life... At that moment, out of powerlessness and despair, I prayed for forgiveness to God, scolding myself for the fact that we came there. After initiation, my worldview changed dramatically. I don’t want to go deep into what it was, how it was achieved, because I know that as soon as you start thinking about sin, even about the past, it will completely take over you, your thoughts, your emotions.

Maybe I'm wrong, but it seems to me that in some sense there is no division of time into past, present and future. The time where your thought, soul, your spirit is, is the present for you at the moment. I want to defeat sin not only in actions, but also in words and thoughts. I want to be now and here, at the point where the past and the future meet, to carefully monitor myself and the world that surrounds me, to learn wisdom in this moment and to hear within myself the voice of eternity, the voice of the living God.

After Reiki, a new feeling of unity with the world, love for it, dissolution in existence, depersonalization appeared. In my head there is a complete absence of thoughts, sterility, a sort of “I listen and obey.” And the desire to do as the first thought that arises dictates. The question didn’t even arise: where is she from? It seemed clear that it was the Lord. When I did as the thought dictated, even if there was no particular desire, I received a large portion of “happiness and joy.” There was a feeling that it seemed like “I was in the flow”, everything worked out. There was another reward - a feeling of one’s greatness and power. You just have to ask for “space” - they will do everything you ask for and for you. Isn't this lovely?

Only much later did I remember the footage from the film “Dead Season”, where it was shown how, with the help of gas, people were turned into obedient animals, happy with everything. Only over time, “my own” thoughts began to appear, and with them a great craving for Christian literature. I voraciously read the Epistles of the Apostles, the Gospels, and the Chronicle of the Seraphim-Diveyevo Monastery. Seraphim of Sarov entered my life somehow immediately. I saw a book about his life at a kiosk, it seemed like an accident, but after that I often turn to him in my thoughts. He conquered me with his wisdom, instructions, love, meekness. A desire appeared, an uncontrollable desire to pray and go to church, but thoughts that continued to dictate and impose a different path of life were not always “allowed”. And I also realized: I will never study astrology again.

However, everything turned out to be much more complicated. As soon as the little inquisitive “I” was born inside again, striving to understand what had been done to me, the joyful feeling of life, carefree, and security went away. And everything was filled with hopeless melancholy, for which there was no reason at all, severe depression and anger, anger at all happy, calm people, because I could not evoke in myself a feeling of love for anyone or anything. I couldn't be happy sunny day, nor on a rainy evening: I was empty, I was squeezed out and deprived of the strength to live. There was not only no strength, but also no desire to live. I have reached the line beyond which is death. It was very difficult, I didn’t even have the strength to speak, everything was indifferent. I had only one thought, remembered from the instructions of Seraphim of Sarov, that one of the most terrible sins– despair. And I held on, I understood that this state had to be overcome, I prayed that the Lord would not leave me. My being was looking for a way out, I understood that this was one of the most terrible tests. The division began again. The thought unobtrusively knocked into my head: “If you want to return to your previous state of a happy, omnipotent person, continue to practice Reiki, go there, again and again.” But there were other thoughts: “Since I didn’t achieve this happiness myself, I reached this level, it means it’s not mine, it’s too easily achievable to be true.” And I also didn’t want to be a pawn in someone’s game, a machine gun. I just wanted to humble myself before the will of God, survive this whole nightmare and become myself. I observed from my pain others in reiki. It seems that everyone first had a rise, then a fall, but each had its own height and depth. Everyone has the same scheme: first the carrot, then the stick. Many had relatives and animals who were sick or died. I was no exception: I was sick myself. There was a transient disturbance of cerebral circulation, began to rise arterial pressure, my hair is still falling out - nothing can help.

I came to the conclusion: Reiki is a force that destroys a person, his will, his thoughts, inner world, health. Not all my friends stayed in reiki. Apparently, those who got there by chance, formally, who did not have any special spiritual quests, left the reiki easily, just as they entered, almost not disfigured personally. But those who searched for the meaning of life for a long time found their “nirvana.” Perhaps they themselves do not see the changes that have occurred to them. Those around them note in them malice, intolerance, external sloppiness, a desire to retire and achieve their “heights”.

I didn't return to astrology. But past knowledge helped me in some way. The Zoroastrian teaching about good and evil came to mind. Where there is duality, lies, fragments of all kinds of knowledge, where there is chaos, confusion, a clear hierarchy that suppresses the “I,” there is no good, no Light. Suddenly - it was like an insight - I realized that Reiki is a mixture, a surrogate of beliefs, teachings that masks something evil and dark, trying to impose on someone else's life. This is zombification, these are other people’s thoughts in my head, someone else’s worldview, the enslavement of my “I”. Time passed...

Those who remained in Reiki intensively gained knowledge of Korean acupressure, massage using Reiki, etc. I could no longer bring myself to do this; I experienced a drain on my strength when I had to do something related to the occult. I was at a crossroads: I was moving away from the old – but where?

“I’m going to the announcement the day after tomorrow,” my friend said. - Come with me?" "What it is? For what?" – all these questions didn’t even have time to arise in my head. It was as if someone had touched my heart with a warm hand; a joy I had not felt for a long time filled my entire being...

During the time that I have been going to the Catechetical School, a lot has changed in my life. Sometimes these changes are very painful: the loss of friends, work colleagues. I know that I don’t want and can’t live in the old way. I try to find joy and light in my soul, to get closer to the truth. I really want to stay on this path, but I’m not yet confident in my abilities. I have a hard time imagining my future: I’ll graduate from the Catechetical School, but what next? Are you really alone again? I’m afraid that I won’t be able to follow this path on my own; I need a mentor, a leader.

How many bruises and bumps I’ve gotten in my life, falling and stepping on “rake”, on the same “rake”! Now I am learning to overcome the evil in myself, which periodically appears in the form of temptations. At first it was hard, a real withdrawal. Except the Lord, no one could help. I felt that I had no strength to fight temptation, but I prayed that God would strengthen me in my firm intention and, due to my weakness, give me strength. When I realized that thanks to God I had won, I was truly happy. But my joy was short-lived. The temptation arose again under different circumstances. Confusion and bewilderment took over me: how? why again? I understood, I refused, I fought... This time, victory over myself was easier. The third time is even easier.

The Lord hears me! He's teaching me! He does not leave me on the path I have chosen!

In conclusion, I would like to say in the words of the psalm: “ They pushed me hard so that I would fall, but the Lord supported me. The Lord is my strength and song; He became my salvation"(Ps. 117:13, 14).

The church never ceases to be the church

If you had told me four or five years ago that someday I would begin to pray and go to church regularly, I would have shrugged my shoulders in bewilderment at best.

Neither in school nor in student years I didn't take religion seriously. My father was an unbeliever, my mother, although she sometimes made the sign of the cross, did not go to church. Therefore, I was not baptized as a child. Only the grandmother, great-grandmother and the latter’s sister truly believed in God (in my opinion, they were Old Believers). I remember that as a child I laughed at their backwardness, and indeed at faith as such.

From the age of seventeen, I suddenly began to have thoughts about life and death. The prospect of the finitude of my own existence drove me into despair. “It would be nice,” I thought, “if the believers were right. Then there would be hope for eternal life. But, unfortunately, there is no God and there cannot be any afterlife - this has long been proven by advanced science.” And I continued my previous existence - study, books, music, friends - occasionally disrupted by nightly attacks of despair and fear.

Soon an important event occurs in my mother’s life: she finally turns to God. She has a burning desire to correct her previous mistake: to baptize me and my brother. By that time I was 20 years old, my brother was 11. Naturally, I did not understand my mother’s desire (what a prejudice!), but, feeling sorry for her, I somehow agreed to be baptized.

The baptism took place in the Church of All Saints near the Sokol metro station. He defended the service, barely hiding his irritation. After my brother and I were baptized and we left the church, I took the cross from my neck and, with irritation and resentment for wasting my time, gave it to my mother (I don’t want to write about this now, but it was like that).

Baptism did not have any noticeable impact on my life (as it seemed to me): my attitude towards faith did not change, life went on as before. But then changes began in the country, information ceased to be “one-channel”, a lot of food for the mind appeared not only for born dissidents, but also for ordinary people like me. (The beginning of this time approximately coincided with my graduation from college.) I became more tolerant, including in relation to religion, and began to think that maybe it plays a useful role in society. Perhaps, I was even ready to subscribe to Yevtushenko’s words: “God grant, at least a little God!” But I didn’t even think about going to church. Christians continued to remain for me people obliged to believe that God created the Earth more than six thousand years ago in exactly six days and other “anti-scientific” things. And I believed in science sacredly.

And then one day my wife brought home from work a photocopy of Fr. Alexandra Me (then already deceased) “On Immortality.” I became interested: the topic worried me. After reading these few pages, I suddenly realized that I had been thinking about Christianity completely wrong. My ideas about him, based on the wretched cliches of “scientific atheism,” turned out to be far from reality. O. Alexander, undoubtedly a deeply religious man, a priest, not only freely operated scientific concepts and data, but also clearly recognized science and culture as a way of understanding the world and even seemed to bless them... The next book I read was Fr. Alexandra – “Son of Man” – shocked me no less. There is no trace left of the idea of ​​the inertia of Christians. Thus the barrier in my consciousness was broken. Now I thought like this: “Why, in fact, is there no God? Who said that? Soviet propaganda? But there is no longer any doubt about her deceit and stupidity. Atheist scientists? But science is unable to either prove or disprove the existence of God, since it studies only the material world.”

I started reading books by Christian authors, magazine and newspaper articles about Christianity and the Church - a lot and, it seems to me, unsystematically. I began to mentally turn to God and pray. Since the end of 1993, together with my wife (who had a great influence on my conversion), I regularly visited one of the Moscow churches. Although he received communion only twice: he considered himself unprepared, and in general he did not really understand what it was for.

New problems arose here. As soon as I learned a little about the life of the Russian Orthodox Church, some things began to cause confusion. I just couldn’t get used to the manifestations of distrust of secular culture and science, fixation on “statism”, “power-ness”, going so far as to justify wars, intolerance towards other Christians. (One young priest told me directly: “Western Christianity is death, destruction, worse than atheism.”) It seemed that the Orthodox Church demands unconditional monarchism from its members, that Fr. Alexander Men, with his openness, is an exception... All this created a duality: there was no way back to atheism, but “national” Orthodoxy also seemed not entirely consistent with the spirit of the Gospel. I often thought: maybe it would be more logical for me to be a Protestant? But won’t going to the Protestants become a break from the roots and from the enormous spiritual experience accumulated by Orthodoxy?

And then one day in the newspaper “Chimes” I read about the Sretensky Brotherhood. I immediately hurried to find the Church of the Dormition of the Virgin Mary in Pechatniki, where I was greeted with attention and love. Soon my wife and I, who also liked the temple, moved into it. Here we accepted the offer to go through the announcement. Gradually I realized that my doubts were in vain, that the Orthodox Church, united in its doctrine, does not force us to have one opinion on secondary issues, that because of our sins the Church does not cease to be the Church. I hope that the announcement will help me shed the layers left over from my atheistic past, become more open to God, faith and people, and enter the Church in fullness.

Faithfully

As long as I can remember, from the very beginning of a more or less conscious life, I lived at the level of instincts, stereotypes, behavior patterns, some rules and norms, drilled into me I don’t know when and I don’t know by whom. At the same time, somewhere inside there was something personal, my own, secret, incomprehensible, shameful... I always knew about myself that I was bad. When I was praised, there was no joy or pride. There was guilt, a desire to hide (they didn’t know what I really was!) and fear (what would happen if they found out?). And most importantly - the feeling of constant lies. Probably because I always tried to go “in the flow” of the person I was communicating with, I simply tried to please. Probably to be considered good. True, then it seemed to me that I was helping, respecting, sympathizing, pitying, i.e. I'm doing well. This was my life. It consisted of guilt, fear, the desire to be good and despair from the inability to fulfill this desire. Although outwardly I seemed to be an open, spontaneous, active and cheerful child, then, having matured, I was the same, my true essence was there, in the secret depths that attracted me, into which I listened and peered all the time. It was neither comprehended nor discerned nor removed.

Very early, at the age of 8-10, I realized that I was going to die, that I would not exist. “Understood” is not the right word. Every night it came in all its terrifying clarity, and I tried in every possible way to drown out the consciousness of the inevitability of disappearance. Over time, I learned not to allow such acuteness of the experience. But there was an almost physical feeling of the current time passing through me and some kind of convulsive desire to learn more, to have time, to grasp, absorb, experience, without stopping at anything, to the detriment of the quality and degree of assimilation.

My friend, when we talked about God’s presence in our lives, told me that her first association with the name of God arose when, as a child, she first walked out of the gates of the estate and saw the expanse of the mountain steppe during the first frost, with frost-covered grass and the endless sky. She then experienced awe and delight at the beauty and incomprehensibility of the world. But I had nothing like that. Even the beauty of nature (when I finally managed to break away from my internal problems and look around) caused in me another surge of frustration and despair from the awareness of the fleeting, temporary, ephemeral nature of the vision.

My value system developed in a certain environment. Small city. All decent, decent, respected people tried to conform to the “party line.” From kindergarten onwards (school, work), the meaning of existence is to conform. Even then I saw and felt the hypocrisy of this “conformity.” But the lies and hypocrisy of people did not turn me away from the very idea of ​​communism.

My dad was a man who selflessly believed in communism. He tolerated leaders and leaders, did not allow himself or others to criticize them, so as not to indirectly desecrate the sacred thing - the idea of ​​“universal justice.” Health, time, material well-being and even family interests could be (and were) sacrificed to this idea.

We lived on the working outskirts. Almost all the neighbors in the house, in the block, either drank, or fought, or stole, or all this combined. Everyone worked in food factories. Everyone was tortured, crushed by living conditions, some survived as best they could, others lived as best they could. My parents were black sheep. My father, of course, was the main positive hero for me. There seemed to be no alternative. It was clear that you need to live for the sake of a bright idea, and not float senselessly with the flow, gradually sinking to the bottom

A value system had developed, but essentially it was not mine. I didn’t fit into it myself. How much mental strength I put into getting into it and absorbing it! The strongest contradiction is serving the people as an abstract category, which implied neglect of the personalities of individual people. They must conform or be ejected. And someone drunkenly criticized the “party members”, someone stole candy for confectionery factory, and they treated me to them, without hiding or being embarrassed at all, etc. I had to condemn these people and reject them (if not lay them down), but it was impossible to do this. I loved them, they were family, alive, they were kind to me. I knew that I could not shoot the enemy of the people, no matter what monster he was... And much more...

By the age of 25, the field of knowledge in hometown It was, although somehow, plowed. There was nothing left that I wanted to touch, that I wanted to delve into. Everything is wrong. My greedy (but not brilliant) mind and gaze rushed beyond the horizons.

I entered Leningrad University. New environment - new food. In the Hermitage and in the Russian Museum, paintings with biblical scenes were amazing. Riddle, secret. You can solve it if you read the book. But then the Bible was (to put it mildly) inaccessible. And the bustle of life killed the desire to read. Studies, social work took all my time and energy.

After the second year, a strange event occurred. Having finished the summer internship, everyone left, but I stayed behind to collect material for course work. I had to get home on my own. It was very difficult to leave Kharkov. Three days at a crowded station (August, southern direction), without sleep, food, money, always the first one at the ticket window. There were no tickets: all trains to Belarus were passing. And at some point, a representative-looking middle-aged man suddenly approached me and offered me a ticket in a compartment carriage to my station. I still didn’t understand how he found out about me, why he bought the ticket and how he bought it. We took my things and got on the train. This was a Baptist from Belarus who went to Ukraine to bury one of his hierarchs. He told me a lot about how Baptists live and what they do, and gave letters of recommendation to houses of worship in my city and in Minsk, which was very bold at that time. I took out the Bible. I saw the Bible for the first time, for the first time in my life I held it in my hands. I tried to read it, but I don’t understand a word of how it’s written in a foreign language. It's even strange now. My companion read something from Revelation. These were incomprehensible words behind which there was a secret. A special secret. And even as a child I was not fascinated by mysterious plots, adventures, or science fiction. They somehow had nothing to do with me. He didn’t give me the book, but I wanted it, but he said: “Whoever really wants it will find it.”

A colonel who taught social sciences at a military school was riding in our compartment. Deciding that I was being “bewitched” by an ideological enemy, he considered it his duty to fight him off. They discussed for a long time, I don’t remember about what. All that remains in my memory is the feeling that struck me of the obvious superiority of a Baptist over an educated military man. Not in logic and erudition, but in the way he carried himself - confidently, firmly, and at the same time respectful and even affectionate. The colonel got excited, allowed insults and always found himself in a dead end. It was the first time I saw a believer, so to speak, “live.” And he greatly shook my ideas. I thought that these people were ignorant, drugged, blind, offended by life.

However, there was a fear that they were beautifully and cunningly trying to catch me in a sectarian network. I burned the letters without reading them, although I greatly regretted it later. No, I didn’t want to be a believer, it was just that you could get a Bible there. But in the end, I can find it myself...

Here another “bummer” happened. I became seriously ill, ended up in the hospital, and for two years I was very busy rescuing own life. After a sabbatical leave, she returned to the university. A course on scientific atheism began, taught by a very interesting teacher. The result is a general fascination with the East: Buddha, karma, the wheel of samsara, Zen, etc. I still only wanted to read the Bible. Like an ersatz, I tried to read near-biblical, mostly atheistic, literature like the “Funny Bible” in order to at least catch something from there. But these books evoked nothing other than disgust—intoxication with their own malice.

And again, circumstances turned me to fight, first for the idea, then for myself. After all, I still faithfully served the idea of ​​communism. Even some kind of career was built in this stream. But only faith and truth constantly let me down. Some of my comrades, as it turned out later, considered me an informer-provocateur, since I allowed myself impermissible independence and liberties, the other part considered me an idiot who was lucky so far. And so it happened. In yet another fit of struggle for justice, I went too far and only thanks to the help good people I still got my diploma. The promised job (after graduation) floated away. Having a diploma with honors, I, the only one on the course, did not receive placement.

My friends assigned me to the research station at the Botanical Institute. And then in a casual conversation I mentioned the Bible. My new friend said that her grandmother left the book, but now someone is reading it. I went to the indicated house. The girl who read the Bible (and who invited me to read it together) was one of Jehovah's Witnesses. I communicated with them for over a year. Finally I could read the Bible! But soon the joy of recognition faded, and the compulsory practical activity adopted by the “witnesses” came and pressed on. It was necessary to be baptized, to take on some obligations, to preach. The atmosphere is cleaner than in the party organization: doubts are condemned as a grave sin. (How can you not have them? They exist – that’s all. That means pretending they don’t exist.) Mistakes, failures are punished, strict hierarchy (human). The answers to my questions most often did not explain anything, and sometimes seemed simply stupid. The magazine had to be trusted almost more than the Bible, since it supposedly published people from the “holy remnant.” And judging by the level of their opuses (at least intellectually), it is not God who speaks through their lips. In short - incompatibility. I had to leave.

Then I became scared: leaving them was tantamount to leaving the Bible, from God, about whom I had only just heard. I still doubted whether I believed. There are a lot of unknowns, a mountain of doubts. The Bible was "swollen" with bookmarks in unclear and confusing places. One day I believe, one day I don’t. But one thing became clear: I don’t want to go back. I want to believe. I don't believe it, but I want it. Another (i.e., previous) life seemed unthinkable. The prospect of her return was perceived as the end of everything.

At this time, Orthodoxy was not even taken into account by me. Everything I knew about him was from Jehovah's Witnesses and was definitely not good. In addition, there was also a personal, very negative experience of trying to visit the Orthodox Church. But if I am left alone, then who will answer all my questions, resolve my doubts, support me, help me walk? For the first time in my life I prayed (I don’t think common prayers with “witnesses”, during which I felt some awkwardness, a misunderstanding). I asked Him to send me someone who would help me get out of the impasse, who would go with me. And the Lord sent me a husband. In those circumstances it was simply a miracle. My husband was not a Christian, but he searched and searched, just like me. This was four years ago. A year later we realized that we were Orthodox, and a year later we realized that we needed to go to church because we needed communication with fellow believers.

“I was born when the temples collapsed”

My birth coincided with a great disaster for the whole country - churches were destroyed everywhere. Just think!.. A whole life passed before this misfortune was overcome.

Still, my parents baptized me. They decided to do this despite all the difficulties that hovered around the small church in Ligov, near Leningrad, in those days. My father risked his career (he graduated from the Military Technical Academy in Leningrad), but both he and my mother respected the request of my grandmother, a deeply religious and very kind person: baptism took place in the first month after my birth. No one should have guessed anything, so the ceremony was performed in the house where our large family at that time lived, the older and younger generations of which were believers. In the rooms there were beautiful icons in massive frames, and lamps were burning. In a small closet, church books of an impressive appearance were kept - in elegantly designed bindings, with multi-colored silk bookmark ribbons, with mysterious writing, with ornate capital letters. I remember when I grew up a little, I loved to touch them and then look at them. All this - the books, the icons, and the house - burned down and disappeared when the family driven out by the war was forced to leave the occupied territory.

The day of my baptism, I am sure, although secret, was solemn. The invited priest performed the ceremony in the presence of all household members. After all, I was the first granddaughter. Everyone reacted to the event as it should be - reverently, with trepidation.

Then the first visits to the church took place with my grandmother, holding the hand, along the long wooden boards laid to the temple through the streets of the village. It seems to me that I remember both the stone steps leading to the temple and its interior decoration, and how they lifted me up so that I could touch the glass surface of the icon with my lips. I remember both the moment of communion and the voice of the priest, who affectionately asked me to repent. I didn’t know then what. The good priest prompted: “Did you cry? Have you been playing around? Didn’t you listen to mom and dad?”

One day, when we were leaving the church, my grandmother told me that we would not come here again. Why? Parents object. It is impossible for a child to do what he is not supposed to do. In response to my helpless tears, I heard words that I will remember for the rest of my life. Grandmother said: “God is always with people. The time will come, and they will definitely return to Him. And you, if you want, will go to church again.”

And then I became a pioneer and assured my grandmother that there was no God. Mom delicately corrected me: “Don’t say that. It hurts grandma, just as it would hurt you if they told you that you don’t have a mother.”

Wherever I was, no matter what I believed, in the depths of my soul from time to time an internal dispute arose with some opponents unknown to me about the ability of a person to remain pure, faithful to the truth, capable of not retreating, despite any difficulties on his way. “Come on, show me how not to give up under our conditions?” So I walked through life with this internal dispute. Life made its own adjustments.

My old grandmother turned out to be right: now that people are returning to God, I go to church again. I don’t go because the country’s ideology has changed and the atheists well known to all of us in the past are increasingly appearing for everyone to see on TV screens with lit church candles in their hands. But because I feel that the light of the soul, which did not have time to flare up during life, is blown out from all sides, the light that made its way in the darkness of all sorts of ideological “isms”, the light given to man from above, which has not been extinguished, is beginning to flare up again. If only he had time to flare up, to replenish in his soul what was taken away.

On the contrary

My grandmother baptized me at an early age. It cannot be said that I grew up in a believing family, but my family cannot be called atheistic either. I can’t say that since childhood I believed in God, but I always knew for sure that there was a Power in the world that created this world and helps it survive. I remember someone saying that the accidental emergence of life on earth is possible if we assume that a car will assemble itself from scattered parts in a landfill. My childhood and youth were ordinary: kindergarten, school, pedagogical college. Despite the fact that nothing super terrible happened to me or around me, I always knew that on this earth, unlike fairy tales, there is rarely a happy ending. I read a lot, trying to find the answer to how to live in order to at least slightly improve this world, my life and the lives of my loved ones. For a very long time I considered myself an extra person. It seemed to me that I was born too early or too late. It cannot be said that I was lonely - I always had friends, but time passed, friends changed, and life remained just as empty.

It all probably started when ideology began to change in our country. From somewhere new books, new people appeared. I've always been interested in people. Just not the Makarenkovsky collective, but each person individually in relationships with other people. Because of this I loved big ones noisy companies, where you could get lost and observe. Then observation and contemplation became one of my favorite activities. Later, at the pedagogical school, I became acquainted with psychology and fell in love with it with all my soul.

Now I think that the events that happened to me after graduating from college led me to the desire to know God. Then they seemed random and insignificant. But now they can be lined up in a chain.

After graduating from college, for a long time I could not get a job in my specialty. I had to go not where I wanted, but where people were needed. I was given a job from which nothing could be expected. There were dreams of college, of further study, of interesting work to which I could devote my life. But it turned out that I met interesting people, smart people who seriously think about faith, about God. Then, together with them, I attended the consecration of the newly opened temple, located next to our organization. Then I began to read spiritual literature and occasionally look into the temple.

Further events developed in a very definite way. Even in my youth, I knew that if I got married, I would definitely get married. When I met my future husband and came to his house, I saw icons there, the Bible and realized that he would not be against the wedding. I also met his grandmother, a true believer. It always amazed me how an illiterate old woman could be so smart and wise. Now I think that her strong faith in God and the desire to live according to His commandments helped her and is helping her in this. My husband and I got married, and my first communion took place at the same time. I got married in the church where I was baptized as a child. Then I made real friends - Vladimir and Tatyana. At the same time, almost independently of each other, we came to faith in God, and we helped and are helping each other in strengthening our faith. Chatting with my friends, I passed a long way hobbies. It is surprising that both reading atheistic literature and being interested in the occult can lead to belief in God. Back in school, during the lessons of scientific atheism, we studied various religions, and when we asked why we need to know what we deny, the teacher replied that we need to know the essence of what we deny. Then I realized that you can come to faith from the opposite.

I can name three specific events that directly led me to God, to the Church. They happened almost simultaneously.

So, my passion for occult sciences, in particular astrology, led me to courses for traditional healers, where we were taught to heal people not only with the help of the magnetism of cosmic energies, but also with prayer, calling on the name of Jesus Christ. I took these courses, even then realizing that this was not my path, I would not do this. I achieved my goal: I strengthened my faith, learned personal prayer, and reading the Bible.

Life accidentally brought me together with people from the Jehovah's Witnesses sect. They interested me, and I asked them for literature, from which I learned that energy treatment cannot bring anything good. The authors of these books, like our teacher in the course, also referred to the Bible. When I asked our teacher why, he answered very evasively and incomprehensibly, and replied that Jehovah’s Witnesses do the same thing. His answer finally put an end to my healing studies. I told Vladimir about the meeting with the Jehovah’s Witnesses and he, advising me to read about them, suggested the book of Archpriest Mitrofan Znosko-Borovsky “Orthodoxy, Roman Catholicism, Protestantism and Sectarianism,” which clarified a lot for me, and I parted with the Jehovah’s Witnesses. Then Vladimir gave me a book by priest Rodion “People and Demons”. This book finally put an end to my studies in astrology. Books on astrology were covered with dust. Thus, by God’s will, two demons, having revealed their essence to me, overcame each other.

Before these events, I asked God to help cure my myopia. The Lord fulfilled my request almost instantly. Help came unexpectedly. The doctors performed an operation on me and restored almost one hundred percent of my vision. Then I finally understood that a person always gets what he strives for (if he achieves it). Only then does he begin to think whether this is what he wanted, and if it is, he forgets Who gave it to him. So I managed to combine faith in God with astrology and healing. Or maybe it was a test. Thank God that I didn’t have time to try all this, but was only studying theory. Having received a diploma as a traditional healer at the end of the course, I realized that it was needed only to show it to children and say: “You don’t have to live like that.”

I would like to name another book that put an end to the study of the occult for me and my friend Tatyana - “The Prince of This World” by G. Klimov. She simply shocked us: after all, we met the devil face to face, saw it - and ran away.

I soon learned that Vladimir was undergoing the catechumen and was going to be baptized. I began asking him questions about the Bible, prayer, and the temple. He answered them, and then invited me to an “open meeting.” That's how I ended up at the Catechetical School. And the book “Frank Stories of a Wanderer to His Spiritual Father,” given by Tatyana for the Nativity of Christ, helped me go to church and to the first public meetings.

Now, when I go to work, every morning, passing close to the temple, I pray and thank God for sending me such work that does not take me much time and allows me to learn to live according to the commandments of God. I thank God for the path that lies through the temple.

Not just a religious building...

I was born into a family of believers - my mother and grandmother. Grew up without a father. Co school years was interested in philosophy and mathematics. Already in high school I stopped being an atheist. Reading books and talking with friends constantly fueled my desire to understand what I believe in. After reading books on Indian philosophy and yoga, I wanted to have a vivid mystical experience. For some time I was engaged, however very irregularly, in yogic practice. However, my internal state did not satisfy me. I felt detached from others and painfully withdrawn from myself. All this, as I now think, was graceless, and perhaps even worse.

I gave up studying Eastern practices and decided to limit myself to reading books related to religious issues. At this time, the Gospel and several books of religious and philosophical content were read. Gradually, I developed what seemed to me a Christian understanding of the world. I clearly emphasized to myself that Christianity is a personal God, personal life with God in Christ, the Last Judgment and Eternal Life of a transformed Man in a transformed world. Having internally accepted Christ as the Son of God and Savior, I treated the Church as a purely ritual institution.

In 1983 my first daughter was born. My wife and relatives insisted that I be baptized. I refused for a long time, but in the end I gave in, and in 1984 I was baptized together with my daughter in a village church near Tula. I treated baptism simply as a traditional rite.

About two years ago, some of my friends talked to Fr. Georgy Kochetkov. They invited me too, but I considered it not very important and refused.

And not so long ago I felt that in my life - in me, in my family, in relationships with other people - something very significant for me, perhaps the most important thing, was drying up. I can’t say exactly how and when I realized that Love was drying up in me. It seems to me that I felt a feeling of being abandoned by God, and at the same time something told me that I needed to go to church and that the Church is not just a religious building where rituals are performed, but that behind this there is a huge and saving power for me . These days, my friend called me, who had already passed the catechumenate and was baptized. From him I learned in detail about the catechumen and churching. I decided to go to the "open meeting". Along with these decisions, great spiritual relief and inner confidence came to me that everything would be fine. Unexpectedly for me, my wife also wanted to go with me. So we started going to public meetings and visiting the temple. We clearly feel that our worldly and mental-spiritual life has begun to change. It really is a lot like being reborn.

Unworthiness

My path to God began from early childhood. Much of what I did came from my inner need. I was directly and sincerely sad and happy for some unknown reason, in consultation with someone, I committed actions of the correctness of which I was internally confident. The older I got, the more evil I saw not only in strangers, but also in people close to me and family. I experienced feelings unfamiliar to me and did not understand anything. Why did everything start to break down? Where is the ease with which everything worked out? I began to feel more and more indifference and uselessness; I wanted to strive for something. There was emptiness inside. And yet she tried with all her might to return what was leaving without a trace. I was distracted by many things, trying to fill the emptiness, but nothing calmed me down." Any activity ceased to bring such satisfaction as it did before. Dating, meetings, all kinds of holidays became empty for me, even primitive. Always everything, no matter how much I wanted it, looked the same. My bright days began to fade gradually. I always didn’t want to go home. Tension in the family grew every year. Everyone was looking for something somewhere far away. Alienation grew, although everyone tried to preserve the family warmth. The desire for something disappeared go. Where? Why? My ardor has cooled, night has fallen, I have nowhere to go. And I stand, oh my God, save and help. My isolation from others made me uncomfortable, being among people was unpleasant. A lot of questions were brewing. A lot of me weighed heavily. I was looking for an answer. Friends, adults, old people - everyone answered based on own position. Listening to their wise and at the same time empty words for me, it was as if I had not heard anything. From time to time, miracles began to happen: I began to see clearly in a completely unprepossessing environment, some answers to questions sounded within me, but after that darkness came again, and I felt even worse. Then I was acutely experiencing spiritual hunger.

One day I found myself in a situation from which it seemed impossible to get out. At that moment, it was as if someone pushed me to turn to God. After diligent inner prayer, not just a miracle happened, but an extraordinary, mysterious miracle. I didn’t just stay alive - in a wild animal I saw a person capable of compassion and love. It took me a long time to come to my senses. I couldn’t explain anything, I didn’t dare tell, I was afraid that they might misunderstand. I began to think about God more and more often.

My family didn't believe in God. My father always chuckled, but my mother was afraid of the evil eye and had a false idea of ​​faith. I was baptized at the age of 16. Previously it was not possible. Dad was a military man and a ban was imposed. After baptism, I did not appear in the temple. Somehow everything passed by. Sometimes, when clouds were gathering over my head with terrible force, I came to the temple; there was nowhere else to go and it was useless. Hard. While in the temple, I didn’t see or hear anything, I just cried. Then she left.

A person has appeared in my life. In him I saw a brother, a friend and a father, even a teacher. With his appearance, everything made sense. For the first time, I felt the depth of a relationship that had previously been hidden from me. Together we began to plan our life. I felt extremely good. But over time, the more often we were together, the more fear I began to experience. The tension grew, there was no strength. One day it dawned on me that my friend was mentally ill. At that moment, again, as before, someone pushed me to turn to God. God showed me His power. More and more often I met believers. I started going to church, but rarely. Unbeknownst to me, thoughts arose that someday I would have to be left without my parents. I was overcome by a nightmare. I suddenly clearly saw my unworthiness - I lacked daughterly love. I looked deeper into myself and became more and more convinced that I was a sinner. The feeling of guilt did not leave me. I asked God for the forgiveness I hoped for. In response, despite all the unworthiness, I felt Love.

“How long have I walked to the One Whom I have always known”

I would call my path to God and to the Church “one step forward, two steps back.” My grandmother baptized me as a child, and she, apparently, took me to receive communion, since I vaguely remember myself in church, the smell of incense, church singing. I remember how she prayed at home, bringing me to my knees in front of the icon. A lamp was burning in front of the icon, but it seemed to me that I always knew about the life of Jesus Christ. Until I was eight years old I wore pectoral cross, but in the second grade, during a medical examination at school, it was discovered in me. This was in the early 60s. It's good that she was small. I remembered this for the rest of my life. The cross had to be removed.

In subsequent years, until I entered college, nothing happened that would make me think about God, although I went with my girlfriends to bless Easter cakes and to a religious procession on Easter.

I remembered God when I entered college two years after graduating from school, having previously taken preparatory courses and once failed to enter the institute through a competition. Not being very well prepared, I decided to take the exams extramural, as if for training. The competition was great, the passing score was high. I passed three exams with “B” marks, and I could only hope for a miracle. It was then that I set a condition to God: “Lord, if You exist, make sure that I go to college” - prove it, they say, then I will believe in You. I entered the institute, passing the last exam with an “A” and gaining the required passing grade. I did not forget about this prayer of mine, about testing God, although I did not do anything as a sign of gratitude. Back then I was very far from it.

Soon I began to have health problems, which worsened after I was in a car accident. (I wasn’t seriously injured, because in the middle of the road for some reason I suddenly decided to change seats, but hit my head.) In addition, there were a lot of personal experiences, melancholy, despondency, an acute feeling of loneliness appeared, resentment grew (why does this happen with me?), life lost its meaning, obsessive thoughts appeared (as if someone was urging me) to leave this life, but deep down in my soul for some reason I understood that I would not do this. I didn’t know how to live in this world, feeling like I no longer fit into my old life and seeing that people had different approaches to life. I felt confused and helpless, I really wanted someone to talk to me, teach me how to live. I had no strength, and besides, I was simply suffocating in the city where we had moved from the village. I really missed nature, I wanted to leave, change something. There was a clear feeling that we were not living like this, there was even confidence that many people felt and understood this, and very soon they would begin to change their lives to a more natural one.

I was told that my physical weakness comes from what is popularly called “damage.” And I was very superstitious, I believed in white and black magic, fortune telling, dreams, I was interested in astrology, although I noticed that all this seemed to suck out strength, devastate, and give rise to fears. The search began for money to scold me, but nothing went well - the wall stood there. The doctors shrugged their shoulders, not finding anything significant. Those grandmothers who were later found were unable to fully reprimand. I even went to gypsy women who said that “it was done very well.” There were also thoughts about the church. I often remembered how I once met a gray-haired, bearded, neat old man on the subway and said that I would be sick for a long time. In my imagination, he was associated with the image of Nikolai Ugodnik, who, as they said, sometimes appears to people. But I didn’t dare go to church, I was afraid, embarrassed, I asked my mother to order a prayer service for my health to St. Nikolai. Mom also couldn’t get ready for church for a long time: something distracted her, or she felt sick in church. This dragged on for two years. At the institute I took academic leave, quit my job, couldn’t get a new one, and didn’t have the strength – neither physical nor moral. In the end, my mother still ordered a prayer service. I don’t remember any obvious miracle happening, but gradually everything got better. I worked, graduated from college. But she didn’t think seriously about God and continued to live as before: arguing with her mother, getting irritated, accumulating grievances, becoming despondent, judging others, envying.

I didn’t know how to cope with my emotions and passions at all, although I felt that they were leading me in the wrong direction.

I consciously came to church in the early 80s, after committing a serious sin, which put great pressure on me, not allowing me to think about anything else. Then for the first time I felt an urgent need for repentance. For the first confession in my life, I went to Fr. Alexandru Menu, knowing absolutely nothing about him. My fellow student brought me to him after my repeated requests. I repented sincerely, the sin was forgiven and indeed after some time it ceased to burden me. I tried to go to the temple regularly, although it was very difficult physically, since then I worked with one day off a week. I endured the service with difficulty and then lay down for the rest of the day with a headache. But I started reading the morning and evening prayers, read a book about. Alexandra “Son of Man”, which seemed to remind me of what I knew from childhood, complementing it and explaining it in a new way. I remember how joyfully, calmly and confidently I felt, and after reading that God is not only in heaven, but also nearby, on earth, in divine energies, I very keenly felt one day, going to work on a sunny summer morning, that God somewhere very close to me. I thought that God would not lay down a cross that is beyond my strength, but that He Himself would help me bear this cross, and this helped me bear it. physical pain, which has always been very difficult for me.

But all this did not last long. The fact is that then for the first time I saw in the Church not only old grandmothers, but also other people. And very soon I realized that I would not enter their circle, although I really wanted to. My friend was also not included in it, although she knew about it. Alexandra has been friends with his daughter since childhood and at one time was even friends with him. So, we stayed with the grandmothers. But not only this depressed me, but also the fact that my friend judged those around her and suspected everyone and everything of her failures. I had to hear a lot of unflattering words about Fr. Alexandra. It was very unpleasant for me to listen to this on the way from the temple, when I wanted to remain silent and maintain inner silence after communion. I didn’t have enough strength to stop my friend, to reason with her, and I hypocritically assented, not wanting to upset her, but my soul felt worse and worse. Soon, she and I quarreled and stopped communicating, which was quite difficult and unpleasant, since we worked together. As a result, I stopped going to Novaya Derevnya. For some time I still thought about God, about the Church, one day during Great Lent I even confessed and took communion in another church, but gradually everything died out, and I continued to live my old life, becoming more and more embittered and relaxed. (We had another religious woman at work, but, seeing her dreamily detached appearance and unscrupulous performance of her official duties, I was in no hurry to get closer to her.) In 1987, I almost simultaneously met two women, one of whom soon became a church member and is now a member of the Society for Christian Education. Ignatius Brianchaninova in St. Petersburg, and another began to practice Raja Yoga according to the system of V. Antonov. I communicated with her more often and more closely, and at that moment she had a great influence on me, talking a lot about their classes, giving me methodological literature to read, trying to attract me to their school. At that time I had many problems not only with health, but also personal ones. In the summer of 1990, all this became intertwined into one ball. I hit the wall again, having suffered another collapse in life. And then it finally dawned on me that I was walking in circles all the time, drawing virtually no conclusions from what was happening to me, without making any effort to change anything. Like an epiphany, the thought came that I was probably living for something other than just getting married, raising children, etc., that if this was taken away from me, it would be so that I would understand that there is something in life... then again, some kind of higher meaning, and my realization in life, my service is somehow different.

This happened on the way to the summer camp of the Antonov school, where my friend studied and where she invited me to come for a day or two. And in the camp among beautiful nature, in good weather, eating clean and energetically charged food, I suddenly felt very bad. Thinking that the lack of sleep after the night shift was taking its toll, I decided to rest, but I couldn’t sleep. Neither medications nor the popular method of treating and recharging trees helped. I was getting worse and worse. The most capable psychics in the camp looked at me and were horrified by how polluted and sick my body was. After this, I was recommended to practice hatha yoga and read the Gospel. With great difficulty, with the help of a friend, I managed to go home late in the evening. When we drove a decent distance away from the camp, I felt better, and I got home relatively safely.

I did not ignore the recommendations given to me and after that trip I really began to change my life. I stopped eating meat in order to somehow cleanse my body, and in the fall I began taking hatha yoga courses at the Lotus Yoga Culture and Yoga Therapy Center using the methods of the Lucknow School of Hatha Yoga, which is considered the best for beginners. (In our country, A.N. Zubkov has been promoting it since the 60s.) I studied for a year, learned the whole complex and reached Pranayama, but did not begin to practice it, because by that time I was very much concerned about the issue : “Why is the Church against yoga?”

In May 1991, I approached an old friend of my friend from the Bryanchaninov Society with this question. I heard that he went through a long spiritual journey, but, unfortunately, alone. I knew that he went to church with the Old Believers and was baptized there a few months ago, having returned to Orthodoxy from the Baptists. I hoped that he would help me better understand Christianity and the church, especially since I was doing yoga, but somehow I didn’t get to the Gospel. As a result of our many hours and many days of conversations with quotes from the Gospel, my attitude towards the church did not improve, but worsened. It was not entirely clear why a person who understood Christ and saw the Truth in Him had such a bad attitude towards Christianity.

We often went to the forest because nature meant a lot to both of us. Seeing my poor health, he began to introduce me to classes according to the system of Porfiry Ivanov, whose follower he was before coming to Christianity. I began to douse myself with cold water and bathe in spring water, which was completely unthinkable for me before. I also wanted spiritual unity, since we were both alone and both strived for God. And then one evening he, as he said, “accepted” me, i.e. performed some kind of ritual on me, as a result of which he seemed to take responsibility for me. I had to lie down on the ground and close my eyes. He stood over me, I didn’t see what he was doing, I didn’t hear any words, I only felt how he touched my legs and head with his hands and felt darkness in my head.

And soon the following happened. On the night of Ivan Kupala we were in the forest. In the evening we walked and admired nature. There was fog in the lowlands above the river, there was full moon, and everything around looked magical and fabulous. Later, in the tent, during a conversation, I suddenly felt such an indescribable fear that I closed my eyes and was afraid to open them, thinking that I would see something terrible instead of my companion. And only after I crossed myself did I dare to open my eyes. My companion laughed. Outwardly nothing had changed, but I could no longer stay in the tent and went to the car. For a long time I could not close my eyes, with amazing clarity I suddenly felt as if I was on the tip of a needle, at a crossroads. On the one hand, all my fears and doubts are nonsense, nonsense, I need to abandon them, surrender to some force - and you will fly above the earth in the night sky, you will live today, now, breathing deeply, but is there anything after death - No one knows. On the other hand, this is very dangerous, as the Church says. If you agree to this, you will lose your soul and eternal life. I was afraid to choose the first, because somewhere deep down in my soul I was afraid of losing God, just as during yoga classes I was instinctively afraid to get into it all too deeply and go far from Christ. And I, hard and sadly, chose the second path, although much was unclear, but something inside me did not allow me to do otherwise.

In the fall of 1991, during a trip to St. Petersburg, I came to the church of the Bryanchaninov Society, and my friend, knowing about my tossing and doubts, insisted that I go to confession to Fr. Vladimir Tsvetkov, although I thought that I was not ready for confession. I knew about my shortcomings, I understood that it was difficult for me to get rid of them, I was very worried about this, becoming despondent and thinking: “I already know that I’m bad, so what new can a priest tell me?” But then, for the first time in my life, the idea occurred to me to ask God to tell me through a priest about how I should be and what I should do. Father Vladimir amazed me in that he did not scold me, but consoled me. I felt such love and care coming from him that my eyes seemed to open and I saw him in a new way. And I really liked the atmosphere in the temple, and what surprised me most was the children, their natural, calm behavior: the older boys entered the altar, prepared the warmth, and the very little ones looked after the candles. Father Vladimir allowed me to receive communion and told me to try to receive communion at least once every two months, or better yet, monthly.

In 1991-1992 he came to Moscow regularly and gave lectures at the Moscow branch of the Society. I went to his lectures, as well as to lectures at the Central House of Culture, organized by the brotherhood in the name of the All-Merciful Savior, where he advised me to go, as well as to the Church of St. Nicholas in Kuznetsy. I already knew this temple; once I wandered there on a whim, and I really liked it. But I felt like a stranger there, although I saw familiar faces from the Bryanchaninov society. In 1991, from the beginning of the Nativity Fast, I began to fast, trying to strictly observe what I spoke about. Vladimir at lectures. I had been reading prayers in the morning and evening for a long time, but now I tried to be sure to read some spiritual literature during Lent and internally tried to be more collected and attentive, avoiding entertainment if possible. It was still difficult for me to go to church, I struggled through the service, but during Lent I tried to take communion at least once. She mostly went to confession at the Vladimir Church in Mytishchi, but did not have a permanent confessor.

In January 1992, the work officially announced the upcoming reduction. From that time on, for the first time, I began to consciously and thoughtfully pray in my own words every day, deciding to rely on the will of God. On March 16, 1992, they announced to me that I was laid off. And then I clearly felt God’s care for me: it was on this day that Fr. Vladimir. Several people told me about this, among them were absolutely strangers. After the lecture, I approached him asking him to bless me in my search new job. He sympathetically asked about everything, blessed and advised to go to the Znamensky Church to pray to St. Martyr Tryphon. Not right away, but I followed his advice. Soon I was offered a job.

I really liked the Znamensky Temple. I came there several times in the evening alone or with a friend, ordering prayers to St. Trifon, and I myself constantly prayed to him, since it was difficult for me to work in the new place, and my relationship with the team was not easy. But I resigned myself and did not draw any conclusions for a year, since I made the decision to work here consciously after a difficult internal struggle, foreseeing that it would be difficult, and feeling that for some reason it was necessary. Throughout the year, I prayed daily in my own words, asking God to send me like-minded people, friends in the faith, a good shepherd, because I realized that it was very difficult to come to Church alone and find a good shepherd.

And then a year later, a girl from another department approached me, with whom we became a little closer and shortly before Easter 1993 we started talking about God, and told me about the existence of the Catechetical School at the Vladimir Church on Bolshaya Lubyanka. A wave of gratitude to God arose in me for the fact that He again responded to my prayer, and I felt ashamed of my lack of faith.

The next Saturday we arrived at the temple, but they told us that we were late for the Easter stream, and gave recommendations on what to read so as not to waste time before the next Assumption stream. And I began to regularly go to the Vladimir Church, deciding to give up communion for a while in order to first go through the catechumen and become a real church member.

This is my church

My path to God began after coming to church, and not vice versa, like most people. I have not had any severe life shocks or any stressful situations. I was just going to Zaostrovye to be baptized - to be honest, almost for company. I had no idea then how dramatically this trip would change my life. Father then told my wife and I that before being baptized, we need to learn something about God, to better understand the roots of Christianity, the meaning of worship, and for this it would be good to go to the catechumen for six months. “Well,” I thought, “the time is not that long.” I was then driven by curiosity, and my wife and I decided that we would go to the announcement. This is how I came to church.

My path to God was much more difficult and interesting. I had to rethink a lot - from simple everyday situations to some general worldview concepts.

In general, I used to believe in God, but, as a rule, I remembered Him only when I needed to ask Him for something. Now I understand that service to God must come first. And I also realized that Christianity is based not only on the teachings of Christ. Here, after all, the point is in Him Himself. The Church professes faith in the living God incarnate in man, and the Gospel is the joyful news about Him.

I experienced a strong shock after reading the Holy Scripture. According to purely human ideas, at times it even seemed to me that God is not always fair, that He constantly tempts us, i.e. experiences. But God never sends us trials that we cannot overcome.” After reading the Scripture, I also realized that all world culture, art, and literature are connected with the Bible. Everything great is based on it. After all, we often say, looking at Gothic cathedrals and Russian icons, at the works of Rublev and Rembrandt, listening to Bach and Tchaikovsky, that this is divine. Such great works could only be created by deeply religious people. And this is understandable - after all, God was their teacher, helper and mentor.

I think that every person sooner or later comes to God. For some this happens in childhood, for others just before death. This was the case with my grandfather, one of the first Stakhanovites in Arkhangelsk, a convinced communist. Dying from lung cancer, in his last days he believed in God. But then everyone perceived it as the whim of a dying man.

I am very glad that at twenty-nine years old I found the true path in life. This is the path to the Church, the path to God. After all, the Church is a community of people whose goal is to serve God. And I felt that in Zaostrovye I came to these people, this is my Church.

Pulled out

My path to God and to the Church was long and thorny. Every now and then a bright light flashed in front of me, but then thin and sharp thorny branches dug into me and left me there, in the familiar and calm, even cozy swamp of an established life. And I didn’t want to wade through these thickets, and everything was the same as everyone else’s, the same life, the same problems, and the usual “everyone lives like this.” It took fifteen years for me to realize that everything that happened to me happened for a reason, that the people I met - from fleeting acquaintances and seemingly empty chatter on a night train to more serious and long meetings and acquaintances - they were also not random companions in my life. But to understand this, it took a strong shake-up that turned my entire previous life upside down...

I grew up in an ordinary family where no one believed in God. True, my grandmother talked about her friendship with the daughters of the Kursk priest, about how she did not like to attend divine services as a child, but when she was already 8-9 years old, the revolution began, and this issue was resolved by itself. She also talked about the beautiful Kursk church, which housed the Oktyabr cinema (thank God, for several years now it has been a church again, where services are held!), and that she saw the royal couple visiting this church during a visit to Kursk. For me, this was just a piece of our history.

In our family they often said: “glory to God,” “Lord, have mercy,” “don’t anger God,” but these were most likely stock phrases. But where are they from? And what or Who is God? They just brushed me off. Father never uttered these words and became angry when he heard them from others.

Then there was school, chatting with classmates and the conclusion that above us is Someone Who is God. But what then?..

Then an attempt to go to college and failure, work and then a meeting with a wonderful grandmother who saved me from an obsessive terrible dream, she prayed for me. I would like to pay attention to this...

Then there was college, then work in the Rivne region, where fate also threw me for a reason. There, I, a convinced atheist, had my first close encounter with people for whom God was everything in life. I met Baptists and Orthodox Christians. And then for the first time I realized that in addition to the life that I live, there is another reality, amazing, incomprehensible, strange...

I remember how, out of pure curiosity, my friend and I wandered into the Vladimir Cathedral in Kyiv. I remember how I could not cross the threshold of the village wooden church, which even the Nazis did not touch. But they didn’t steal it either - the villagers safely hid all the shrines. And then I began to think - where is the truth? And does she exist? I thought, but didn’t draw any conclusions. I've messed up - repent and repent, but you can't hide your sins in your pocket...

And so I read the Gospel for the first time. Of course, in my own way, in an atheistic way. But I remembered something. Here, in the outback of the Rivne region, I was closest to God. Reach out your hand - and He would take me and lead me like a child. No, alas, I did not realize why I was there.

She returned to Severodvinsk and got a job. Everything was like everyone else. And suddenly - I meet my mother’s friend, she excitedly tells me about her meeting with Yarotsky, about amazing things. Bioenergy - oh, oh! Anyone who hasn't been there hasn't tried it. It seems the whole city has gone crazy. No matter who you ask, everyone is on these courses. I went to the course too. It just didn’t work out for me. I look at the candle, I need to “work” with it, and I remember the village temple. I write down the prayers and spells, and there is a “swampy outline” - like the ancient Slavs. No, not something like that. And again everything is back to normal. But I thought about it.

And then - an absolutely incredible and unpredictable marriage, the birth of a weak, frail child, constant scandals with my husband, going home - sometimes mine, sometimes his. Not life, but torment. And then - the flu, which my baby also fell ill with. The temperature - the thermometer went off scale. Cramps. I grab the phone, dial 03 - the line is free! I made a call, didn’t have time to finish – the doctor was at the door: “Where?” - I show where to go, and my son already arches and wheezes. That’s when I slid down the doorframe and onto the floor. I only remember how my brother picked me up from the floor and handed me disposable syringes one after another to the doctor. And I move out again and repeat: “Lord, help me!” They pulled my son out. I have no doubts left.

That same summer I went to my parents in Vyazma, was baptized myself and my son in the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity, with Father Leonid. Amazing man! We talked with him for more than an hour - it flew by like an instant. Then, in the nineties, he said that they would build a church in Severodvinsk, a real one, not just a house of worship, that the church needed knowledgeable, thinking people. It is not enough to be baptized with the slightest knowledge of God. We must study the Word of God. Then I didn’t quite understand what he was talking about. But it sunk into my soul. Only now am I beginning to understand the meaning of what he said.

When it was especially difficult for me, I read the Gospel. I tried to come to church with my neighbor, who explained to me what was what. If I was without it, I asked and took a closer look. But this was so little!

And then I learned about the Zaostrovsky temple and public meetings. It’s also not by chance, it’s also not just like that. Responding to my inner voice, I came to see my friend, whom I had not visited for a whole year. I found her reading the Bible, which truly surprised me. And I heard from her what I had been thinking and dreaming about for so many years.

We have always been persistently instilled in us that miracles do not happen, that man is the creator of his own life and his own happiness, and we got used to not noticing either miracles or happiness, we got used to the idea that we ourselves achieve everything and stand firmly on our own two feet. And how often have we not noticed that our feet are made of clay, and that there is a dark bandage over our eyes, through which everything appears gray...

No no and one more time no! What a pity that I realized this so late! There is a miracle, and there is happiness, and there is joy, and there is meaning even in routine, everyday life. And His name is God. Only He leads us to light, miracle, joy. It is He who gives us what we want, it is He who helps us when no one is able to help, when everyone is powerless.

I am happy that this meeting took place. And how afraid I am that I won’t reach it and my hand will slip out! Therefore, I constantly pray: Lord, do not forsake me, a sinner! Strengthen my faith!

One less bad person

I was born into a completely unbelieving family, all of them were unbaptized - parents, grandparents. This is an average socialist family: parents are engineers, three children, dad is a party member, fought, grandfather is a communist.

Communist ideals were never drummed into me, but I never heard about God from my parents, and I didn’t even have to think about it while I lived completely according to the will of my parents. They tried to raise me (and all of us children) to be decent, honest people. We were not taught to lie, steal, adapt, or walk over corpses.

I don’t know how it started, but when my brother didn’t return home late, my mother was wildly worried, and I asked God for help - to quickly bring my stupid, careless brother Kirill home. I said that I know that everything is fine with him, he just doesn’t think about anything, and let him come to his senses as soon as possible. When I called on God, I didn’t imagine anyone in particular, but I knew that He was Almighty.

Our neighbors were considered Christians, they had icons, priests or someone in a cassock came to them. But their life was not pure and righteous - they illegally moved into the apartment, and their foreman husband carried everything home. This didn’t surprise me, but it didn’t attract me either.

Next to our house there was the Council for Religious Affairs, near it someone was always on strike, protesting, starving, cars were driving up, people in robes were walking around.

Sometimes I went to church, but very rarely and by chance; I went to Zagorsk. There were no special feelings from these visits and trips; I remembered almost nothing. The temple scared me only because it was something alien, incomprehensible, old.

I remember anti-religious posters in the children's clinic: a grandmother dragging her grandson to church, a caricatured priest, a stupid child, an out-of-mind old woman...

The first time I intentionally went to church with a friend was on Easter in 1992, when my mother was undergoing surgery. My friend inherited her knowledge of the rules in the church, which saint should light a candle from her grandmother, but at heart she was a complete non-believer and in this she was not much different from me.

I lit a candle and asked for health. Probably, my journey began from that moment. The Church of St. Nicholas in Khamovniki was very beautiful, large, there were a lot of people. He stood next to our school. The school suffered greatly from this; there was anti-religious propaganda, but I don’t remember it well.

The first time I started thinking about God was when Brother Kirill said that he had been baptized. He told how it was and joked about something. Mom took this calmly. And I thought: why be baptized, not really believing and knowing practically nothing - neither prayer, nor way of life. So, I thought, I don’t need to be baptized: I believe, and that’s enough for me, but to make my soul immortal, so that it again becomes someone’s life - no, it’s too bad for that. Let her die after my death, and let no one get it, there will be one less bad person. I used to live and think that I had a pure soul, I didn’t do evil, I didn’t upset anyone, but then during my life I doubted it - my soul is dirty. For example (after reading the fantastic story by the Strugatsky brothers “Roadside Picnic,” which talks about a room of desires), what will my soul desire when it gets into such a room? I was afraid to think that she would not wish for peace on earth, not happy family, and what - I don’t know.

Then Igor appeared. He was a wonderful brother, we didn’t see each other often, but when we did, I loved him, and he stood out to me. And then it suddenly turned out that he was a deeply religious person. He often came to us, told us a lot, but I didn’t listen to him, only my mother perceived all this (she was the first to be baptized). I didn’t understand him, he was good, handsome, cheerful, sociable, and suddenly he became withdrawn and lost weight. At first I didn’t believe in the depth of his faith.

Mom went to the announcement, invited us all to come with her, but I did not agree. But mom didn’t say anything, and nothing annoyed me. In the summer I started going to church with my mother. At first it was bad, stuffy, but then I got used to it. I was about to go to the Easter group for the third pre-convention meeting, but A.M.K. He didn’t let me in, I was not ready, angry, arrogant. And he did the right thing - he gave time to make a final decision.

In life at that time there appeared stormy experiences that were unusual for my character: many strangers, new, arrogant, tempted by work. I understood that if I didn’t break free, it would drag in, and then I could hurt myself badly while falling. And I went to the youth publicity group. At first I didn’t like my peers, there were a lot of them, naughty ones. When A.M.K. I asked who came why, I said that I want to live a righteous life. I wanted to have support, strength, support and help. I didn’t have the strength to live, fight, be angry, aggressive. I could only avoid being like this at home; I dumped the accumulated bitterness in the family.

At the same time, I went to “open meetings” of the Assumption Stream and saw a lot of good, interesting people. The temple became my home.

I feel sorry for people who know nothing about faith, like I used to, and who do not know how to love God and believe.

Live and be happy

I was born into a family of non-believers. I was not yet a year old when I was baptized by our parish priest at home, secretly from my dad, while he was at work.

Even at school, I thought about God and the church. I was drawn to the temple even then, but the teachers did not allow us to even come close; there was ardent atheistic propaganda.

Once, as a pioneer, I found my baptismal cross at home, put it on and wore it. I remember feeling some kind of inner warmth and joy. Then my friend saw it, shamed me, and I took off the cross.

She graduated from school, college, went to work, got married, gave birth to children. I visited church very rarely, although I was drawn to it. But there was no time, there was no one to go with, and for some reason I was embarrassed to go to church alone. She could not and did not know how to pray; she considered herself an unbeliever.

Everything was going well in our family. They lived amicably and disagreements were rare. My husband graduated from college and started working, so we supported ourselves financially, and our parents didn’t forget us. It seems like live and be happy, but inside me there was a huge fear for my loved one. I loved my husband more than anything in the world, even more than my children, and I was very afraid of losing him. I decided that we should get married. “Whom God has joined together, let no man separate” - I don’t remember where I read this phrase then, but it ingrained itself firmly in my head.

My husband, an unbeliever, unbaptized, never went to church. But in order not to upset me, he agreed to the proposal to be baptized and get married. In the summer of 1992, my husband and children were baptized, and in the fall, on the 10th anniversary of our marriage, we got married. That day I felt like the happiest woman and did not understand what kind of misfortune I had brought upon the people dear to me - my family.

Misfortunes, illnesses, troubles fell upon us. Before we had time to recover from one shock, another one immediately overtook us.

My husband started drinking. I got sick and fell ill. The congenital joint disease worsened, and I had to leave work. My husband drank more and more. Having an accident, he crashed his car and started drinking even harder. My son broke his arm and spent a month in the hospital. I was torn to pieces, I couldn’t understand why everything was like this, why I was being punished like this. I felt sorry for my husband and children, and I was hurt and offended for myself. The family was crumbling. But I couldn’t find the answer. My condition was terrible. Permanent nervous tension made itself felt: I began to hear poorly. My husband lived his own life, we were indifferent to him. The children did not obey me and did not study well. It seemed to me that I was only disturbing everyone, that no one needed me. Nothing made me happy anymore, I thought only about one thing - to leave this life forever. I even tried to do it, but some force held me back.

I must say that there is another dear person in my life - my school friend. It was thanks to her that I went through all this torment and survived. And then she told me: “You cannot love your husband more than God.” At first I couldn't understand what she was talking about. What God? My husband is here, next to me, the most beloved and dearest person to me. And God? Where is he? And does He exist at all? Or maybe these are all old wives' tales? What God is my unbelieving friend talking about?

And yet these words sank into my soul and did not give me peace. One Saturday I went to church, lit candles, and held the service. On the way back, I went to my parents, asked my mother for a Bible (she bought it, but never read it), came home and began to read. I started, as usual, from the first page, didn’t understand anything, went back and still continued reading...

That night, for the first time in many, many months, I fell asleep in a calm, good sleep. Since that evening I have never parted with the Bible. I began to visit church more often and learned that our parish holds public conversations for people like me. Now I just live these meetings, waiting for them. They give me a lot: my soul has thawed and come to life. I began to perceive the world around me completely differently and, having made a lot of mistakes before, I am now trying to be better.

I am happy that I did not turn off the road leading to the temple, to God. Now I can say with confidence: I am a believer.

“I am going to Him...”

I was born in the city of Yelets, Lipetsk region in 1967. I was baptized in infancy in the Church of the Kazan Icon of the Mother of God in Yelets. For my parents, the decision to baptize me was more of a tribute to tradition. It was not customary in the family to talk about God, observe fasts, or go to church, but there was a strong tradition of baptizing children and, in addition to secular and family ones, celebrating church holidays.

As a child, I went to church with my grandmother several times a year, took communion, and took part in procession for Easter. Childhood memories associated with Easter are the brightest. In our house they opened and washed the windows, cleaned the apartment, painted eggs. There was a feeling that something very important and joyful was about to happen. But my childhood expectations, alas, were not justified - the holiday was reduced to an ordinary feast.

Growing up, I tried to get answers to questions about God from books; I started and put off reading the Bible several times. And once, already as a student, I became acquainted with the works of Fr. Alexandra Me realized then that she had found what she had been looking for for so long. With these books, I no longer felt alone in my search for God.

I started going to church consciously several years ago. At that time I was still living in Yelets with my parents, working, and none of my relatives or friends supported me in my attempts to turn to the church. And perhaps then I was close to recognizing the point of view of my “opponents” as correct. I felt very “stifling” in our churches; I couldn’t help but feel that it was not a sacrament being performed, but a rote performance, where there was no place for a living word, natural human intonation. Everything seemed to be drowning in dogma and formalities. But I, feeling and seeing such a situation in churches, tried to humble my pride, continued to go to services, and took communion. Returning home, I tried to read the Bible, the works of the church fathers, but it was very difficult to understand and comprehend all this on my own.

One day I came across an issue of the magazine “Continent” for 1992, where I first learned about the priest Georgy Kochetkov. I remember the contrast well when trying to compare Fr. George with local priests. I experienced the same joy as when I became acquainted with the works of Fr. Alexandra Me. Finally, I heard not abstract speech, but a living word about God, reflections on things more important than the appearance of a woman in trousers in the temple.

In August 1994, I got married and moved to Moscow. I already knew where the Church of the Assumption of the Virgin Mary is located in Pechatniki. I started going to the announcement. I can talk a lot about what the Catechetical School gives me, but I will limit myself to just saying that I go to meetings with joy, I hear answers to questions that I asked a long time ago about Scripture, about prayer, about the church. And next to me there are such different, but amazingly alive people...

I would also like to say that I try very hard to separate faith in God from the expectation of miracles from Him, that I repent on the path to God. I have not yet come to God, but I am going to Him.

The text is quoted from: My path to God and to the Church. Living evidence of the 90s of the XX century. M.: St. Philaret Moscow Higher Orthodox Christian School, 2003 - 208 p.

Many people have everything. however, they are sad because they lack Christ.

Elder Paisiy Svyatogorets

I didn't believe in God

These words of Elder Paisius fully applied to me. The whole life lived until the clinical death that I suffered at the age of 40 can simply be crossed out. There was everything: a wealthy family, a husband, a daughter; but my soul was empty. Subsequently, I realized the reason for the emptiness that filled me - I did not believe in God. Blessed are those who, without seeing, believe. I believed like Thomas, seeing everything with my own eyes after my death.

Before my conversion, I was not an atheist; on the contrary, I wanted to learn something about God, I read brochures about Christ distributed by Jehovah’s Witnesses, and for six months I studied with a female Jehovah’s Witness who came to my home. Soon I became seriously ill and our classes ended. After the illness, I felt quite well for some time, but suddenly an event occurred that completely changed my worldview and my entire subsequent life. On the eve of my fortieth birthday, I felt unwell; I had an attack, after which I was taken to the hospital.

The doctors, who made the wrong diagnosis, complicated the course of the disease, after which I began to die from total necrosis of the pancreas. It was then that I first experienced a strong desire to confess and partake of the Holy Mysteries of Christ. And as soon as I thought about it, literally half an hour later a priest came into my room. I was surprised that my wish came true so quickly. As it turned out later, it was on this day that my mother and my friend decided to visit me. They went outside to hail a car and saw a man in the yard getting into a car. Mom asked him to give them a lift and on the way told him that her daughter was dying. The driver turned out to be a believer (he later went to study at a theological seminary and became a priest).

He didn’t take money for the trip and suggested asking the priest from the hospital church to confess and give me communion. And so it all coincided that the priest had just served the Liturgy, was free and agreed to come to me. This is how my first confession and first Communion took place before clinical death.

After Communion, I felt relief for a while, and then I lost consciousness and felt myself in the air, looking down at my own bloody body. It lay on the operating table, and the surgeon sewed it up with huge, careless stitches, preparing it for the morgue. Suddenly I heard a menacing voice: “Well, did you believe in God?” Horror chilled me to the bone, and I realized that I was already in the “other world.” I remembered this moment for the rest of my life.

It was then that I realized that everything I had read about the afterlife was true. But the tragedy was that it was no longer possible to go back and tell my loved ones about what I saw.

Once you die, you can no longer repent

At the same time, I realized that my Guardian Angel was talking to me and that our communication took place without words. I don’t see him, I just hear his voice and instantly receive an answer to any question. He told me that I was dead and there was no turning back. However, after a while I felt that I was being taken somewhere on a gurney at terrible speed. Then I realized that my body was connected to some kind of device. All this time I heard the voices of people nearby. So we think about a dead person that this is just a body, but in fact he hears how his death is stated, sees everything that happens around him. In general, the entire experience of death I went through was all amazing and scary. It’s scary because, having once died, we can repent, pray and bring our loved ones: we can no longer repent, but it’s amazing that there is immortal life, there is God... This is such an extraordinary double feeling.

Then my whole life flashed before me. For some reason, my conscience instantly woke up. Like frames quickly replacing each other, I saw all my bad deeds, for which I did not repent. And the most amazing thing is that, seeing all this, I began to pray. Then I found out that I was praying with the words of the Jesus Prayer. And she prayed with such despair, with such hope for God’s mercy. that I myself was surprised at how I knew all this. But when I said: “Lord, have mercy!” (and this was a real cry from the soul!), after a certain period of time I heard the answer: “No.” This went on three times: a prayer for salvation and a negative answer... It was my Guardian Angel who asked the Lord for me, but I did not hear His conversation with God, I was only told the result: “No, God does not have mercy on you yet.” But for some reason I still had hope in my soul.

And then I started flying at high speed through some pipes. It seemed that this state of mine lasted for an eternity. As it turned out later, I was taken to the Institute of Surgery of the Russian Academy of Medical Sciences. My husband came to pick me up by car. By that time, five minutes of death had been recorded. In the ambulance, the heart, kidneys, and lungs functioned only thanks to intensive care devices.

When my husband was transporting me. The Guardian Angel said: “I don’t know where they are taking you, it’s not planned.” Something unexpected happened to me. I flew somewhere along the pipe, but at the same time I constantly felt the presence of an Angel next to me. I didn’t see him, but I was in communication with him. Suddenly we found ourselves in a long, seemingly brightly lit hall, in the depths of which sat on a throne amazing beauty A man of thirty to thirty-three years old. I thought that never before on Earth had I seen a person of such beauty. There was wisdom and peace in His eyes. The look was very kind, full of love and mercy. “Is this really God? - flashed through my head. - What a joy to see Him! And what a misfortune that I cannot return to Earth now and tell my loved ones that He exists! "These thoughts, like lightning, pierced me. Suddenly, I realized that everything I had lived up to that moment was absolutely all wrong! But the main thing is that He exists! Realizing this, I felt that I was flying down again. After all, they had not forgiven me, which means I was flying to hell.

Horror overwhelmed me. When I found myself in a darker space, I again heard the voice of my Guardian Angel: “I can’t go any further. There are bad angels. Hang in there, Tanya. hold on!” I have never experienced the despair that gripped me again in my life. God forbid anyone else ends up where I went! Lord, have mercy on us all! It seemed to me that I had shrunk into a ball and was left completely alone. I could neither control myself nor make any volitional effort to change anything. After a while, I fell like a bag onto the floor of some room and saw a man in front of me. “Well, hello, hello,” he said. And then I finally realized that I was in hell, that Satan was in front of me, and I was in his complete power. Thank God it didn't last long. Soon they pulled me out of there like a rag doll. It is impossible to express in words what relief and joy I felt then! It turns out that I was only shown heaven and hell, and perhaps part of the Judgment.

Then I heard from the Angel: “Do you want to be saved?” And she answered: “Of course, I want to be saved!” “Then go to the monastery.” After these words, I shrank all internally and seemed to even begin to justify myself: “After all, I have a husband, a daughter who needs to be raised...”. Isn't it strange? A person has already been to hell, where he experienced a feeling of horror and despair, and continues to insist on his own?! They repeated to me again: “Go to the monastery.” I overcame myself and agreed. But my consent was not accepted. And I realized that this happened because I agreed under duress. My answer was not free. The Lord grants every person free will. This is perhaps one of the greatest gifts we receive from Him. He doesn't want us to be forced to save ourselves. And after a pause I heard: “Then go to the monasteries, along the Golden Ring.” “Will they let me go?” - I asked. “Yes, but in five years you will come to the hospital again and wait.” Exactly five years later, I actually ended up in the hospital and waited, as if for a sentence, for the doctors’ decision.

Life after death

When I came to my senses after resuscitation, the first thing those around me heard from me was: “God exists.” These words were spoken in a weak voice, but everyone knew that I had returned from the “other world.” The nurses crossed themselves, but the doctors didn’t believe it - they were atheists.

After my return, I spent six months in the Surgery Center (Russian Scientific Center for Surgery named after V.V. Petrovsky, Russian Academy of Medical Sciences). At that time, a church was opened there in the name of St. Great Martyr and Healer Panteleimon. It was located in the same building on the first floor, and I could attend all services. After my condition improved, suddenly a crisis suddenly set in: terrible pain began and they pumped out black liquid through a tube, which I swallowed.

The time for Lent has come. After consulting, the doctors decided to “put” me on a fifteen-day starvation diet and daily infuse a huge amount of medicine through an IV to maintain the vital functions of the body and remove toxins. The temperature remained stable at 38 degrees, and the condition was so severe that I did not know what to do with myself. Prayers were given with great difficulty. The only prayer I said morning and evening was the “Our Father,” but it seemed endlessly long to me. When I was still in intensive care, I asked my loved ones to bring me icons of the Savior, the Mother of God, St. Panteleimon and prayer book. I tried to read it, but my vision was so weakened that it was very difficult, but then I already knew that turning to God was my salvation, my hope. For the first time in my life, during the services of Lent, I felt grace and peace. I cried a lot, prayed, sitting on a bench in the temple, asking the Lord to heal me again.

Holy Week and the fifteenth day of my “hunger strike” were approaching. The professor-surgeon who operated on me warned that an unexpected complication had occurred, and the next day in the operating room they would pump out the fluid accumulated in the internal tissues from my stomach with syringes. I already knew that this was quite dangerous, and the procedure itself was not pleasant. In the morning I had an ultrasound of my internal organs, and the diagnosis was completely confirmed. In the afternoon I went down to the church for service. I prayed to the Lord. Mother of God and St. Great Martyr and Healer Panteleimon to ease my fate, to be honest, no longer hoping for healing. In the evening I felt unwell and my temperature rose. Finally exhausted, I could barely sleep.

The procedure was scheduled for twelve o'clock the next day. By this time I was invited to the dressing room. The professor decided to call an ultrasound specialist again to know exactly the location of the affected areas. The same doctor who performed my previous ultrasound with a portable device came. A minute later she began the inspection, and was surprised to note that everything was clean, “there was nothing”!!! At that moment I felt that I felt incredibly at ease and that I was healthy. The surgeon looked at me puzzled, sighed with relief and sent me back to the room. I returned and decided to take my temperature. The thermometer showed 36.6. It was a real miracle on Holy Week! I am sure that it was the Holy Great Martyr Panteleimon who prayed for me. In general, it must be said that his hospital church itself is wonderful. There the dark icon of Saints Zosima, Sabbatius and Herman was completely renewed! Patients come there before the most complex operations to pray, confess and partake of the Holy Mysteries of Christ.

For many months of my stay in the hospital, I lived only with memories of what happened to me. This experience remains the most powerful of my life to this day. Now everything has changed, but, of course, before there was a very serious internal struggle. I have a language education, and I wanted to go work as a translator. Then I completed theological courses and began teaching at Sunday school. And then, by the Providence of God, she ended up in pre-trial detention center No. 5 with juvenile offenders. And there I realized that those people who, just as in Gospel times, were healed and saved by the Lord Himself, must serve Him. This must be understood and not be faint-hearted, despite the fact that dark forces will always hinder such service.

Now I teach juvenile delinquents about God and get great satisfaction from it. They are waiting for me. And the most interesting thing is that I understand them well. I experienced death, the feeling of being abandoned by God, was resurrected and again took up the wrong thing (not preaching), and therefore I know very well what these people are going through. Having committed a crime and gone to jail, they are all in a confined space. In such conditions, a person’s conscience is revealed. Our soul is a Christian, and after we break the commandments of God, we suddenly begin to realize this very well.

Approximately three-quarters of pre-trial detention center prisoners come to faith. My charges ask me for prayer books, prepare for Communion, read literature, watch films with Christian content. They are waiting for us, their teachers, like a breath of fresh air. You should have seen their eyes! What beautiful eyes! The boys who come to faith are very beautiful. They always listen very carefully in class. And those guys who have parents write to them that now everything is fine with them, now they are studying the Law of God and are waiting for these lessons.

What notes they write, what pictures they draw! It is we who sleep here, but they truly believe. Many of those who read the akathist forty times were released immediately, although they faced several years of imprisonment. At the trial, the charges crumbled to dust. Try to explain to a prosperous person what sin is and what repentance is. And there everything is already clear, everything has been passed. Having committed a sin, a person crosses the line of what is permitted - and then his conscience begins to speak, and repentance occurs. What, if not repentance, brings us closer to God! In difficult life conditions everything becomes clear.

In prison, deprivation and humiliation begin. They beat me in the cells... One boy wrote to me: “I am so grateful to you for revealing to me the truth about God. I was beaten very badly in my cell, but I prayed to St. Nicholas the Wonderworker, and everything healed for me.” When I get out, I will definitely start going to the Temple and praying to the Lord and all the saints who intercede for us.