I was raised in the Mormon Church and, as a teenager, began to experience serious doubts. After visiting the Mormon temple, I was deeply troubled by what I encountered, and I left at the age of fifteen. What followed were many years of unbelief. I became an atheist, and eventually a nihilist. During this time, my life lost its center. I struggled with alcohol and with a growing sense of meaninglessness. Yet even in my rebellion, God did not abandon me. Rather, He let questions arise within me that I could not answer. As the years went on, scarred by the past, I was consumed with searching for Truth through science, psychology, philosophy, and questions of being and consciousness. I read thinkers such as Nietzsche and Carl Jung and wrestled deeply with ideas of meaning, hierarchy, and reality itself. Despite my rejection of God, I found myself unable to escape the sense that infinite Truth, and even an infinite good, must exist for any narrative or mode of being to be coherent. Eight years of this would ensue, yet still fueled by an inexhaustible thirst for Truth, I persisted. Eventually, God’s grace would reach me through a kind friend who encouraged me to read the Gospel of John. At that time, my understanding of Scripture was only intellectual, viewing it as a kind of symbolic framework that was something psychologically or socially useful but not truly divine. I resisted the idea of God, even as I felt drawn toward meaning and haunted by existential dread. Still, I thought there was no harm in reading it. When I read the Gospel, something unexpected happened. I read it straight through, and when I reached the crucifixion of Christ, I wept. Shortly afterward, I began to pray, hesitantly, without confidence, and still without any real faith or understanding of what prayer was. Through an experience I can only describe as a mercy from God, I became certain that Christ is the Son of the living God and that God is real. My journey did not end there; however, I began attending a Presbyterian Church for which I remain grateful to this day. 

Despite this, I would soon find myself deeply troubled. The many denominations, the lack of historical grounding, and unanswered questions about the origin and authority of the Church caused my new and fragile faith to falter. I was anxious and confused with more questions than ever, and every answer I heard left me more perplexed. I needed to know who wrote the Scriptures. Who preserved them? Who were the Saints? And most importantly, what really is the Church? After much prayer and inner turmoil, I encountered the Orthodox Church, initially with suspicion. I saw its icons, its clergy, its bold claims to continuity with the Apostles, and I was unsure what to make of it at first. But as I studied the history of the Church, the Ecumenical Councils, the Fathers, and the lives of the Saints, I came to a quiet and unavoidable conclusion deep in my soul. 

The Orthodox Church is the Church founded by Christ and preserved by the Holy Spirit. Even so, I was still wary and uncertain. Eventually, I made a simple decision. I would attend an Orthodox Church, and if this proved empty, I would abandon the search. Instead, God humbled me. When I entered the Church, I was received with genuine warmth. I heard the Psalms sung, the ancient prayers chanted, and hymns that had been offered to God for centuries. In that moment, without reasoning or argument, I knew deep in my heart that I was home. God’s grace touched me and granted me a deep stillness and inner peace about where I was and why.

By God’s providence, the very first Divine Liturgy I would attend was served by Fr. Spyridon, whom I had previously encountered only through his talks. From that point on, the Lord patiently gathered me into His Church. I was baptized, taking the name Sophrony after St Sophrony the Athonite.

I have since served as a church warden and made pilgrimages to holy places such as the Monastery of St John the Baptist in Essex, which was founded by my patron saint. I have been blessed to encounter and venerate such holy icons as the Kursk Root Icon and witness God’s mercy in countless small and great ways. I continue to learn and acquire repentance, humility, and obedience, often failing in all three, yet never left without hope. 

I have not deserved any of these wonderful experiences, but I share them as a testament to God’s mercy and Grace. I do not write these things as one who has attained anything, but as one who has been shown great mercy. If there is anything good in my life, it is from God alone.

I remain a sinner in need of repentance, grateful that the Lord did not abandon me in my confusion, but led me, slowly and gently, into His Holy Orthodox Church. To Him be the glory, now and ever, and unto the ages of ages. Amen