PHILOKALIA MINISTRIES

The night was quiet in that strange and heavy way it sometimes is before dawn, as though the world were holding its breath. I sat in the silence with the ache in my chest like a stone I could not swallow. Out of the shadows, not dramatic, not radiant, just present, like a memory sharpened into flesh, St. Sophrony stood beside me. ⸻ Disciple:  Father, I am tired of hurting. It feels like my heart never has a day without ache. Prayer comes like dragging a broken limb. Why is th