PHILOKALIA MINISTRIES

The night was long, and the disciple sat in the doorway of his small cell, hands trembling over the beads of his prayer rope. He had prayed, fasted, kept vigil, yet his heart felt like a boat unmoored on open sea. He went to the elder, whose lamp still burned though the stars were nearly gone from the sky. Disciple:  Father, pray for me. I do not trust the steadiness of my own heart. I fear I may fail in what God is asking. Some days I feel strong, clear, called; other days I