I did not go into the wilderness. I was not tonsured on a holy mountain. I live in the West, where noise seeps into the bones and the air is thick with restlessness. Yet something in me aches for the desert, for that place where men and women once wrestled with God and were broken open until mercy filled them.
This is not a manual, not a polished theology, not a record of visions. It is simply a journal of one who seeks hesychasm in hiddenness. I am not a monk in the desert but a struggler in a room. Yet the Fathers said: “Go to your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” So I go.
What follows are fragments from that cell: noise, failure, temptation, tears, glimpses of grace. The desert is not far away. The desert is within.
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Part VI: Bearing the Absurd Commandments
Entry 31: Resist Not Evil
The world says fight back, defend yourself, win. Christ says, “Resist not evil.” Everything in me rebels; it feels like suicide, like cowardice. Yet when I swallow my pride and let the insult pass, something unexpected happens: the anger in me dies down, and a strange strength remains. The Cross is not weakness. It is power disguised.
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