After leaving the young man he met in the woods, the Pilgrim continued toward Kyiv. His desire was to make his confession and receive the Communion of the Holy Mysteries of Christ.
He stayed near the Kyiv Pechersk Lavra and eventually sought the counsel of an ascetic spiritual father. After their conversations, the father gave him permission to receive Communion. Later, when the father traveled away for a while, he allowed the Pilgrim to stay in his hermit’s cell.
When the father returned, he suggested another pilgrimage. He encouraged the Pilgrim to travel to Pochaev to venerate the Miraculous Footstep of the All-Pure Mother of God.
The journey was about 132 miles.
I’m not sure I could do that!
But the Pilgrim started walking.
Along the way, he came to a coaching inn in a small Russian village. He asked the host for some bread and a place to sleep.
The host asked him a question:
“What religion are you?”
The Pilgrim answered that he was an Orthodox Christian.
And that’s when things became interesting.
Which One Is the True Church?
The host immediately challenged him.
He told the Pilgrim that Orthodoxy was nothing but words and accused Orthodox Christians of behaving like superstitious unbelievers.
The man had once joined the Orthodox Church after being persuaded by an educated cleric. But after about six months, he returned to his former beliefs.
The Pilgrim concluded that the man must be an Old Believer.
Then something happened that caught my attention.
The host believed the Pilgrim’s church was wrong.
And the Pilgrim believed the host could not be converted to the “true church.”
There they stood.
Two religious men.
Two traditions.
Two sets of practices.
And apparently two people convinced that the other one had missed the truth.
I’ve seen this before.
In fact, I’ve lived it.
Thirty-Seven Denominations
I grew up in conservative Protestant Christianity.
During my younger years in ministry, fundamentalist and conservative evangelical churches were growing in influence. Names like Jerry Falwell, Carl McIntire, and later Jimmy Swaggart became familiar.
Then came the growing charismatic movement.
Then contemporary worship.
Then nondenominational churches and megachurches.
Some churches began deemphasizing their denominational names.
Traditional worship competed with contemporary worship. Then some churches tried “blended worship.”
People moved from church to church.
I pastored a Free Will Baptist congregation where a number of people followed Jimmy Swaggart. Some spoke in tongues.
The sign outside said Free Will Baptist.
What was happening inside didn’t always fit neatly underneath the sign.
For a young pastor, this could be confusing.
Then I went to seminary.
There were people from thirty-seven different denominations represented there.
Suddenly I was learning alongside followers of Jesus who didn’t worship like I did.
They didn’t all baptize the same way.
They didn’t understand Communion the same way.
They didn’t structure worship the same way.
And they certainly didn’t all agree on theology.
Yet there we were.
Together.
I Held the Cup Too High
One experience from seminary has stayed with me.
I had never served Communion outside the Free Will Baptist tradition.
My experience had been primarily memorial:
“Do this in remembrance of me.”
Then in seminary I was learning to approach the meal with a more Eucharistic understanding—the mystery of encountering God through the sacrament.
This was new territory for me.
During a worship practicum, I elevated the Communion cup.
Afterward, my professor criticized me for holding it too high.
I was holding it more like a Catholic.
I had difficulty accepting that criticism.
Looking back now, I understand that the professor was teaching the liturgical practice expected in that setting.
But something much larger was happening inside me.
I was discovering mystery.
Presence.
Grace.
Encounter.
And while I was struggling to understand what it might mean to encounter Christ at the Table, we were concerned about how high I held the cup.
There is something almost symbolic about that memory now.
How high should we hold the cup?
Catholics have an answer.
Episcopalians have practices.
Baptists have practices.
Methodists have practices.
Orthodox Christians have practices.
And we can become so concerned about holding the cup correctly that we forget why we’re holding it at all.
The Opportunity They Missed
That’s what I see happening between the Pilgrim and the Old Believer.
At first I thought the Pilgrim should have stayed and talked with him.
Then I thought again.
Perhaps the Pilgrim was wise to walk away.
Arguing probably wouldn’t have accomplished anything.
They could have debated theology for hours.
The host could have presented his arguments.
The Pilgrim could have defended Orthodoxy.
Eventually they might have separated with both thinking:
“I certainly proved my point.”
Sometimes walking away from an argument is wisdom.
But walking away also meant something else was lost.
They never had the opportunity to know each other.
Maybe there was another possibility besides arguing or leaving.
Maybe they could have listened.
The Pilgrim might have asked:
“You said you once joined the Orthodox Church. Tell me what happened.”
And the host might eventually have asked:
“Why does your Orthodox faith mean so much to you?”
They might not have changed each other’s minds.
That’s okay.
Maybe changing somebody’s mind wasn’t what that encounter was for.
Maybe grace had simply brought two pilgrims together for an evening.
What Would Jesus Do?
This encounter reminds me of Charles Sheldon and In His Steps.
I first encountered Sheldon while studying homiletics. What attracted me to his writing was his ability to create moral dilemmas through stories.
He didn’t always give you an easy answer.
Instead, he asked the question that became famous:
What would Jesus do?
That’s the question I find myself asking at this Russian coaching inn.
What would Jesus do?
Would Jesus argue?
Would Jesus walk away?
Would Jesus stay?
Would Jesus ask a question?
Would Jesus listen?
I think of the Samaritan woman in John 4.
She brought up one of the great religious disagreements between Jews and Samaritans.
Her people worshiped on one mountain.
The Jews worshiped in Jerusalem.
Which was right?
Which tradition had the truth?
Jesus moved the conversation somewhere deeper:
“The true worshipers will worship the Father in spirit and truth.”
But what strikes me now is that Jesus stayed in the conversation.
He saw her.
He heard her.
He knew her story.
And she heard him.
Relationship happened.
Maybe There Is a Third Choice
Sometimes we think our choices are:
Argue or walk away.
Maybe there is another possibility.
Listen.
Listening doesn’t mean agreement.
Listening doesn’t mean surrendering my convictions.
Listening doesn’t mean pretending differences don’t matter.
It means I stop treating the person standing before me as a theological problem that needs to be solved.
Instead, I become curious.
Who are you?
What happened to you?
Why do you believe this?
What have you experienced?
What might you know that I don’t?
That word has become increasingly important to me:
Curious.
That’s why I call myself the Curious Pilgrim.
Tradition Can Be Home Without Becoming a Fortress
Today I worship in the Episcopal Church.
I love the Eucharist.
I appreciate liturgy.
I pray the Daily Office.
I have discovered ancient Christian prayers and practices that I never knew growing up.
But my journey hasn’t convinced me that everybody else needs to become Episcopalian.
I can receive something from Orthodoxy without becoming Orthodox.
I can treasure what Methodism taught me about grace.
I can remember what the Free Will Baptists gave me.
I can learn from Catholics.
I can listen to Baptists.
I can encounter people outside Christianity and listen to their wisdom.
A tradition can give us a home without becoming a fortress.
There are many styles of worship.
There are many traditions.
There are many ways people encounter the mystery of God.
I don’t believe any of us has discovered the perfect formula.
God looks at the heart.
And Then I Have to Look at My Own Heart
There is another danger here.
I can become judgmental toward people who are judgmental.
I can say:
“Those people think they’re the only true church. Thank God I’m not like them.”
And suddenly I sound suspiciously like the Pharisee Jesus described.
So I need grace too.
The Old Believer needs grace.
The Orthodox Pilgrim needs grace.
The professor who corrected my Communion practice needed grace.
The young preacher struggling to understand thirty-seven denominations needed grace.
The Episcopal Church needs grace.
And this Curious Pilgrim certainly needs grace.
Maybe that’s why the Jesus Prayer keeps returning.
But today I want to add something to it.
Before I decide whether to argue, speak, remain silent, or walk away, perhaps I need to listen for the Holy Spirit.
So my prayer becomes:
Lord Jesus, teach me to see.
Help me see the person before I see the label.
Lord Jesus, teach me to hear.
Help me hear the story before I prepare my answer.
Lord Jesus Christ, teach me what to say.
Give me words that bring grace rather than simply proving my point.
Lord Jesus, teach me when to be silent.
Keep me from speaking merely because I think I have the answer.
Lord Jesus, teach me to love.
Because perhaps that is the real answer to Charles Sheldon’s question.
What would Jesus do?
Jesus would see.
Jesus would hear.
Jesus would discern.
Jesus would love.
And sometimes Jesus would speak.
Sometimes Jesus would remain silent.
Sometimes Jesus would stay.
Sometimes Jesus would walk away.
So there may not be a formula.
There is a Spirit to follow.
And there is grace for the journey.
Lord Jesus, teach me to see.
Lord Jesus, teach me to hear.
Lord Jesus Christ, teach me what to say.
Lord Jesus, teach me when to be silent.
Lord Jesus, teach me to love.
Lord Jesus Christ, have mercy on me, a pilgrim.
Amen.
Still walking. Still learning. Still looking for grace.
The Curious Pilgrim 
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