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Dialogue with St. Sophrony: On Despair and the Shadowed Heart
It was one of those nights when the soul falls through itself. No ground beneath the feet, no prayer strong enough to lift, only the dull weight of meaninglessness pressing the lungs. I sat in it, not fighting, just sinking. In the silence, something stirred, like an old lamp being lit. St. Sophrony came again, not as comfort, but as truth. ⸻ Disciple: Father, tonight I do not hurt, I simply feel nothing. No hope. No movement. Just an inner collapse. This is worse than pain.
Father Charbel Abernethy
Nov 30, 20253 min read
Only Jesus: The Solitude, Death, and Glory of St. Paul of Thebes
I have forgotten my name. Not lost; forgotten, like a cloak shed when winter breaks. I no longer need it here. Names are for men who must distinguish themselves from other men. I have lived so long alone that there is no one to call me. Here in this cave, only God calls and He calls without sound. I did not always know this peace. When I came to the desert I carried the world inside me: faces like wounds, memories like fire, cravings like wolves. I walked into silence and fou
Father Charbel Abernethy
Nov 28, 20255 min read
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