“Oh, fear the LORD, you His saints! There is no want to those who fear Him” (Psalm 34:9). Holy fear cures the soul of lesser tyrannies. When God is feared rightly, other fears begin to shrink into their proper size before the Almighty.

Learning Data Analytics as a Career Changer: From the Pulpit and the Bedside to the World of Data I am in the process of changing career fields, and it's an exciting, new venture. logosanddata.substack.com/p/…

Basic Differences Between Orthodoxy & Lutheranism: Holy Baptism Baptism is not the end of Christian formation; it's the beginning of a life in the Church that must be daily nourished. theorthodoxscribe.substack.c…

Glory to God.

The Elder Scrolls Religions: The Aldmeri Pantheon - Trinimac, Warrior-God of the Altmer Trinimac's disputed relationship to Malacath shows us how communities fight over memory, orthodoxy, and identity. theorthodoxscribe.substack.c…

In the processing of entering a new career field.

Fun fact: My dad was involved in creating UPS' first iteration of zip code delivery software.

During my morning prayers today, I prayed Psalm 93, and certain verses stuck out to me: "The LORD reigns, He is clothed with majesty; the LORD is clothed, He has girded Himself with strength. Surely, the world is established, so that it cannot be moved... The LORD on high is mightier than the noise of many waters, than the mighty waves of the sea" (vv. 1, 4). The psalm uses poetic, metaphorical imagery to describe God's omnipotence. He is "clothed" with majesty and strength, meaning His essence is made up of majesty and strength. Consider the wave on which a surfer rides—God is mightier. Consider the noise and might of Niagara Falls—God is mightier. Consider a tsunami—God is mightier. Consider the storm on the Sea of Galilee—Christ, the Theanthropos (God-man), is mightier. I have fond memories of a trip I took with my dad to Algonquin National Park. I think I was 15 at the time. We were canoeing on a particular lake to get to our next portage to hike, and all of a sudden, we were caught in a windstorm. I was a scrawny teenager in the bow of the canoe while my dad steered in the stern, and for every two feet we made, we would lose a foot. I prayed my heart out—constantly—which was genuinely the first time I ever prayed so hard in my life. I didn't stop praying until we got to land—on an island where other campers graciously let us camp nearby. We rested for the night, listening to their sons argue about whether Batman or Superman is the better superhero. God was mightier than those waves, and now I have a great object lesson for when the disciples were on the sea of Galilee, for we often chide them for their great anxiety. Unless you've been in such a storm like I have, you'll never understand how terrified they were. Now for the allegorical purpose of this post: Do we believe God is mightier than the waves of our current culture? It seems that everyone is angry all the time, fearful that the Left or the Right are going to take over the country. Why be so afraid? God is mightier than the waves of our culture. Because the Lord is strength and majesty—omnipotent—He is OUR strength. "The LORD is the strength of my life; of whom shall I be afraid?" (Psalm 27:1). We slap this verse on bumper stickers to show off on our vehicles and home décor, but we hardly believe it. God has established the world, "so that it cannot be moved"; it isn't going anywhere unless God wills it. What might it look like if we truly believed that God is mightier than every storm that besets us? Most of us look like Peter. We step out bravely onto the waters, focused on Christ, then look around us and immediately sink into the culture's tempestuous depths. Will we reach out to Christ and cry out, "Lord, save me!" (Matthew 14:30). Not, "Lord, show Your favor for my political ideology," but "Lord, save me." It seems that we are more concerned with our nation's "salvation" than we are about our personal salvation, which is what truly concerns the Lord. Not this or that ideological dominance, but your salvation. I'm learning this personally too, of course. I'm currently stuck in continuous autistic burnout because my capacity for sustaining the workload of sensory processing, thinking, and everyday functioning was diminished by my previous burnout in the parish. (As a reminder, autistic burnout is a state of profound physical, mental, and emotional exhaustion caused by the cumulative stress of navigating a world not designed for neurodivergent people, leading to a variety of issues such as increased executive dysfunction, depression, skill regression, etc.). My baseline for sustained stimulation is lower than it once was. I am beset by waves of exhaustion and increased executive dysfunction, but the Lord is mightier than my burnout. Prayer is the only thing getting me through each day, for "Prayer is a mighty weapon, an unfailing treasure, a wealth which is never expended, a harbor that is always calm, a foundation for tranquility. Prayer is the root and source and mother of ten thousand blessings. It is more powerful than the empire itself" (St John Chrysostom, On the Incomprehensible Nature of God 5.44). All of us, then, need to pray more.

Providence is not a morality play staged for easy reading by spectators. theorthodoxscribe.substack.c…

The only good thing about this rubbish is that the kid who played Piggy in Lord of the Flies—David McKenna—got another major acting role. It was a great adaptation of the novel, and David—indeed, all the child actors—did a phenomenal job. Especially David. I'm truly happy for him.

A small spark of shamelessness can ignite a whole household of thoughts. theorthodoxscribe.substack.c…

Prayer isn't wishful thinking but filial trust before the Father through the Son in the Holy Spirit. theorthodoxscribe.substack.c…

When the soul is desperate for help, how does it discern whether the offered hand is medicine or temptation? theorthodoxscribe.substack.c…

I've been thinking of how to address the madness of the upcoming public execution, and she sums it up perfectly in this thread. This is America, not Rome.

I enjoy my hospice chaplain job (sometimes), but I wish I had a job where I could just go in, do menial, repetitive tasks, and still make a living to support my family and give alms.

People who can't communicate think everything is an argument, and people who lack accountability think everything is an attack.

Indeed. Sins are never merely private. Neither are virtues.

In all the sermons and writings I've ever heard and read on Jacob's wrestling with God, it seems to me that the context within which it takes place is always ignored. Jacob was returning to his homeland at God's command (Genesis 31:13). Yet before him stood the terrifying prospect of meeting Esau, the brother whom he had deceived and whose wrath he had once fled. Jacob feared for his life and the lives of his household. Nevertheless, amidst his trembling, he remembered the promise of God, praying, “For You said, ‘I will surely treat you well’” (32:12). Here, we behold the mystery of faith: A man whose heart trembles with fear, yet whose soul clings to the faithfulness of God. And so, in the darkness of that very night, Jacob wrestled with God. His struggle was the travail of a soul caught between the remembrance of its sins and the certainty of divine mercy. Wounded in his strength, Jacob nevertheless refused to release the One from Whom all blessings flow. He entered the night fearing his brother, and departed bearing the blessing of God, even as he limped toward an uncertain reconciliation. Then comes the wondrous revelation. Esau, whom Jacob had feared would destroy him, ran to embrace him, fell upon his neck, kissed him, and wept (33:4), like the father toward his prodigal son—a rather fitting image, as Jacob wrestled the pre-incarnate Christ. The brother who had every earthly reason to remember the offense welcomed the offender with extraordinary tenderness. And consider Jacob's astonishing words to Esau that resemble his mysterious wrestling with God: “I have seen your face as though I had seen the face of God, and you were pleased with me” (33:10; cf. 32:30). What a beautiful mystery! Having encountered the mercy of God in the darkness, Jacob now beholds something of that mercy in the face of his brother. The man who wrestled with God discovers that reconciliation with his brother is itself a revelation of divine goodness. Indeed, their humility had its own wrestling match as each one strove to be the servant of the other! Thus, we learn that faith may tremble even as it trusts, and that the mercy for which we wrestle in prayer may greet us in the very face we most fear to behold; for the God Who blessed Jacob at Peniel had already prepared for him the unexpected consolation of his brother's embrace.