From the editor
The stories about God's miraculous help collected in this book date back to the 20th century and, of course, constitute an infinitesimal part of what is known in oral tradition and described in other books. The idea for this collection arose after a meeting with Lydia Vladimirovna Kaleda, the wife of our wonderful shepherd Father Gleb Kaleda. She showed us a neatly bound samizdat typewritten collection called “Uninvented Stories,” which she found while sorting through Father Gleb’s extensive archive. We were struck by the simplicity and sincerity of the stories collected by an unknown compiler. Gratefully remembering his (or her, or their) courage (the collection can be dated back to the 60s - 70s of our century, when such work could get you to places “not so remote” for several years) and work, we decided that It would be a sin if we borrow from this collection the most interesting stories that do not raise doubts either due to excessive emotionality or the ability to explain the events described in them by simple coincidence. We were guided by the same principles when selecting stories from parishioners of Klin churches for publication. All our narrators are calm, balanced, sober people who cannot be suspected of abnormality or hallucinations. Moreover, these are people of deep faith, and it would be unthinkable and sinful for them to invent such stories. These stories amazed us and greatly strengthened our faith. We selected a small part of the stories from already published books. We considered it necessary to preface the book with a pastoral word, teaching us the correct, Orthodox attitude towards miracles, helping to distinguish the miracle of God from a false miracle. From the Gospel we know about many miracles that the Lord performed, and many Christians followed Him. And we also remember that the Lord Himself, before His Ascension into Heaven, said to the Apostles, and through them to all of us: “Behold, I am with you always, even to the end of the age” (Matthew 28:20). We are grateful to everyone who came to us and sincerely told us about what the Lord had done for them. We will be glad if you share with us your stories about cases of God’s miraculous help (our address is at the end of this book).
Shepherd's word
About the miracles of God
Great miracles of God surround man from birth to death; one can even say that man lives inside God’s miracle, whose name is the created world. The visible world surrounding a person is beautiful, harmonious, it contains everything that is necessary for human life. The Lord not only created the material world, but also laid the foundation for its laws that govern it, which man can cognize, but cannot cancel or create new ones. The invisible world is even more beautiful - the spiritual, angelic world. And the first people enjoyed it and had a priceless, sweet opportunity to communicate with the Creator Himself. The Fall hid this higher world from the eyes of man, and now only by Divine Revelation to spirit-bearing men can man judge the indescribable beauty of that world, about which it is written: Eye has not seen, ear has not heard, and what God has prepared has not entered the heart of man. to those who love Him (1 Cor. 2:9). But man and the visible world are not abandoned by God, and His Love for fallen man is also the greatest miracle. And from this miracle came our Salvation - the Incarnation of Christ the Savior, the Terrible Sacrifice of Calvary, the Resurrection of our Lord Jesus Christ, His glorious Ascension. With His blood the Lord founded and established the Church and established the Sacrament of the Eucharist. And for two thousand years now, every day, this Miracle of miracles has been happening for us sinners - under the guise of bread and wine, the faithful partake of the Body and Blood of Christ, joining the eternal Kingdom of God on earth. This miracle is for everyone on earth, just believe and turn with repentance to the Giver of eternal blessings. In this blissful and holy moment, the Higher world - the spiritual - and the material world are united in man, and the Holy Spirit spiritualizes and enlightens inert matter. This is the real content of every miracle - the interaction of the invisible Spirit with visible matter.
Text of the book “Radiant Guests. Stories of priests"
Luminous guests. Priests' stories
Compiled by Vladimir Zobern
A miracle does not contradict the laws of nature, but only our ideas about them.
St. Augustine
Possessed
Vera, a parishioner of our church, a gloomy, grumpy woman, screamed loudly at her neighbor’s children. I did not shame her in front of everyone, and postponed the conversation until tomorrow.
That same night, her husband knocked on my door. He said that his wife felt very bad and called me to her. I went to them with a missal and stole. A crowd of people gathered there, and a demoniac woman in only a shirt, with disheveled hair, sat on the stove, looked at me brutally and began to spit, then cried bitterly, saying:
“My poor little head, why did he come?”
Four strong men barely pulled her off the stove and brought her to me. Vera scolded me in every way, tried to break free and rush at me. Despite this, I covered her with a stole and began to read prayers for the expulsion of evil spirits and at each prayer I asked:
-Will you come out?
“No, I won’t go out,” was the answer, “I feel good here!”
- Fear God, come out!
But the demon did not leave the sufferer. Finally, I had to go to Matins, and I ordered her to be taken to the temple. When the people had gathered, I ordered everyone to kneel down and pray to God to deliver Vera from the demon, and I again began to read prayers and the Gospel. Then the demon shouted loudly in the voice of Vera:
- Oh, I’m sick, I’m sick!
Vera began to cry, saying:
- I'm afraid, I'm afraid, I'm afraid! I’m sick, I’m sick, I’ll come out, I’ll come out, don’t torture me!
All this time I did not stop reading. Then Vera began to sob and fainted. A quarter of an hour passed like this. I sprinkled her with holy water, and she came to her senses, then I gave her a drink of water, and she was able to cross herself, stood up and asked to serve a thanksgiving prayer. Now Vera is healthy.
The Wanderer's Tale
One day an old wanderer asked to stay with me for the night:
– Father, I went to Kyiv to pray to the holy saints of God. Accept me for one night, for Christ's sake!
I couldn’t refuse him and invited him into the house. The wanderer thanked him, took off his knapsack and sat down tiredly near the stove. After hot tea he became happier and we started talking.
“It’s been ten years since I buried my wife,” he said, “I have no children, and all these years I have been pilgrimaging to various holy places: I was in Jerusalem, in the Trinity-Sergius Lavra, on Holy Mount Athos, and now I’m returning from Kyiv. Yes, father, all I have left to do is walk around the monasteries. I have no relatives, I can no longer work.
“But, my friend,” I told him, “to go to holy places, you need money, to feed yourself on the road, how many other expenses...
At the church. 1867 Hood. Illarion Pryanishnikov
– God is not without mercy, and the world is not without good people. The Lord commanded, and people accept us, strangers. So you did not reject me, a sinner.
Our conversation lasted well into the night. In the morning I served the liturgy and invited him to church with me. After the service, he had lunch with me and began to get ready for the journey. When he took my blessing, I noticed marks on his hand from healed wounds.
- What it is? – I asked.
– Father, I was sick for a long time, I didn’t know how to recover, but the Lord healed me through the prayers of His saints.
This illness forced me, a sinner, to go to holy places, because then I forgot the Lord God and gave myself over to the world and its temptations.
About ten years ago my wife died. On the fortieth day I got ready to remember the deceased. The day before, I went to the market in a neighboring village and bought everything needed for the funeral. On the fortieth day, he asked the priest to serve a liturgy for the repose of the newly deceased and gathered the people for the funeral.
In the morning, no matter how hard I tried, I could not get out of bed, I had no strength. A doctor examined me, but his treatment did not help, I lay motionless for a week, and then, finally, I remembered the Lord! The priest I invited served a prayer service to the Most Holy Theotokos, our Intercessor, and to St. Nicholas.
After the prayer service, an old wanderer asked to stay at our house for the night. When he saw me, he said:
- Apparently, the Lord punished you for your sins. But He is merciful, pray to Him! I have oil from the relics of the Kyiv saints, anoint the sore spots with it.
Around midnight, when everyone was sleeping, I woke up my nephew and asked him to anoint my sore spots with oil. He complied with my request, and soon I fell asleep. In the morning they told me that the wanderer had recently left. I told my nephew to catch up with him and ask if he still had oil from the Kyiv shrines. The elder did not return, but said:
- If the Lord gets him out of bed, then let him go to Kyiv, there he will receive complete healing.
The next day I again anointed the sore spots with blessed oil and was able to get up and walk a little, and three days later I was completely healthy. “Glory to You, Lord,” I thought, “tomorrow I will call a priest, he will serve a prayer service, and in the spring, God willing, I will go to Kyiv to pray to the holy saints and thank them for the healing!”
But the Lord arranged everything differently. That same night I felt bad again. Then I realized that I couldn’t postpone the pilgrimage until spring. No, as soon as I get better, I’ll go straight away! And the merciful Lord graciously responded to my heartfelt desire.
Two days passed and I recovered. Having collected some things for the journey, I said goodbye to my family, took the staff and went with hope in the Lord God. On the way to Kyiv, he stopped at Voronezh and Zadonsk, and finally reached Kyiv by November.
Oh, father, how good it is there! How many relics of saints, righteous, and saints rest there! The heart rejoices, the soul just wants to fly away to the heavenly world. I lived there for about two weeks - and, thank God, only traces of my illness remained.
Three years ago my nephew died. I sold my house and now I travel to holy places.
Riot
This happened in the fifth week of Lent. In the village church they were preparing for the great feast of the Resurrection of Christ. A parishioner of the temple, a pious old woman, was asked to clean the church utensils and images. After the liturgy, the priest, together with the elder, brought to her home an icon of the Holy Great Martyr Paraskeva in a silver robe, which had become very dark with time.
The next day, the men left the temple and began to be indignant:
– How dare the priest take the icon out of the church without asking the parishioners about it?!
We decided to organize a community meeting and invite the priest there. When he came and listened to the accusations, he tried to convince them that the old woman was reliable, that she would prepare the icon for the great holiday of Easter, and tomorrow he himself would bring the icon. The priest’s words did not calm the parishioners, they began to shout that the icon would disappear, that they would bring another one to the church, no longer in a silver robe, that the priest most likely bribed the old woman... In a word, it was necessary to urgently bring the icon to calm the crowd.
Holy Great Martyr Paraskeva. Icon of the late 19th century.
Having ordered the sleigh to be laid, the priest and the church warden went to the old woman. On the way they passed a neighboring village. Its inhabitants had already heard about the alleged theft of the icon, and there was not a hut from which the most offensive and obscene curses would not rain down on the poor heads of the priest and elders.
Having accepted the cleaned icon from the old woman and returning to the village, the priest demanded from the watchman the key to the church in order to put the icon in its place. But he replied that the villagers had taken the key from him. At this time, men armed with clubs approached them. They boldly said to the priest:
- We are guards, we won’t let you into the temple! Tomorrow afternoon we'll look at the icon! If it’s the same one, then good, but if it’s the other one, we’ll deal with you!
No matter how much the priest convinced them, he was forced to take the icon to his home and wait for the next day. As soon as he managed to light the lamp in front of the holy image, a man knocked on his door and called him to the dying old woman. So that the priest could take the Holy Gifts, the guards opened the church and escorted him to the altar and back.
The next day, at dawn, the village headman again came to the priest, announcing that the parishioners had gathered and demanded that he come to them. This time the crowd did not allow the priest to say a word. One old man, the father of the village elder, shouted the most.
The priest turned to him:
- Fear God! Why are you, an old man, instilling such thoughts in the youth? It's a sin, come to your senses! You need to talk some sense into them, but you shout the loudest! God may punish you for this!
But the old man continued to accuse the priest of theft and suddenly fell to the ground, paralyzed. Everyone fell silent.
“The Lord punished him, let’s quickly go get the icon, let’s pray to Saint Paraskeva!” - flashed through the crowd.
The old man was unconscious for a long time. And the silent parishioners served prayers for his health and asked the Lord for forgiveness...
The robber brought some sense
In a small village located on the banks of a picturesque river, the Day of the Holy Trinity was celebrated. A neatly dressed old man came out of the gate, white as a harrier, with a gentle face and kind, smiling eyes. The teenagers, seeing him, ran to him with joyful cries:
- Hello, grandfather Yegor! Tell me something, tell me!
This old man was a retired non-commissioned officer, a well-read, pious man who had seen a lot in his time. Sitting down on the rubble, Grandfather Yegor waited until everyone was sitting next to him and began his story.
– More than 40 years have passed since the feast of the Holy Trinity became especially memorable for me. I was then 25 years old, I had not yet joined the regiment, and worked as a clerk. My comrade, also a clerk, Pyotr Ivanovich, was the son of a merchant, at the age of ten he was left an orphan and lived with his aunt, a landowner, a meek and pious woman. Pyotr Ivanovich was quiet, modest, and could give his last penny to a beggar.
But man is not without sin, and Pyotr Ivanovich also had his own oddities. For some reason he didn't like going to church. I told him:
– Peter, why do you rarely go to church? At least I could go to mass!
He would smile and say:
– It doesn’t matter where you pray: at home or in church, there is only one God! So I can pray at home too!
One day, on the eve of the feast of the holy apostles Peter and Paul, he went into the field. The sun was quietly setting behind the forest, it was a wonderful evening, there was no sign of bad weather. When Pyotr Ivanovich approached the field, the weather changed dramatically: a strong wind blew and a black thundercloud appeared in the sky. Soon the rain poured down and lightning flashed. He stepped off the dirt road onto the grass and stopped. At that moment, lightning flashed and struck the ground two steps away from him. If Pyotr Ivanovich had not left the road, lightning would have struck him.
Another time, on the Feast of the Exaltation of the Holy Cross, he and the watchman went to the forest guardhouse. Pyotr Ivanovich sent a watchman to the attic, and he himself waited for him in the hallway. Suddenly some force pushed him into the upper room. As soon as Pyotr Ivanovich entered and closed the door behind him, a terrible roar was heard in the entryway.
When he opened the door, he couldn’t believe his eyes: the ceiling in the hallway had collapsed. It turns out that the watchman, when he began to climb down from the attic, leaned his elbows on the crossbar supporting the ceiling. The crossbar was rotten and it collapsed. Pyotr Ivanovich would have been crushed if he had remained in the hallway.
There were other cases of God’s miraculous help in his life, but he did not come to his senses and still did not go to church. I only hoped that the Lord Himself would turn him to the true path and force him to go to church!
On the eve of the Feast of the Holy Trinity, Peter Ivanovich went to the city to transfer his money from the city bank to the provincial bank. He was a very hardworking man, and he saved money for a rainy day. After he took the money from the bank, Pyotr Ivanovich decided to take it home first. In the city, his acquaintances began to dissuade him:
– Where are you going, because tomorrow is a big holiday! You should go to church, pray, and then go tomorrow afternoon, because you have nowhere to rush! And now it’s dangerous to travel: it’s evening, and a thunderstorm is brewing.
To the Trinity. 1902 Hood. Sergey Korovin
But Pyotr Ivanovich did not listen.
As soon as he set off, the church bell rang for the all-night vigil. But he still did not stop by the temple. Soon it began to rain, gradually turning into downpour. When Pyotr Ivanovich drove into the forest, he thought: “I’ve already driven half the way, I’ll soon get home!” With these thoughts he continued on his way. Suddenly someone grabbed his horse by the bridle and shouted:
- Stop!
Although Pyotr Ivanovich was not a timid person, he was very frightened. Several people attacked him, hit him on the head and dragged him off the cart...
When he woke up, he saw that morning had already come. He was lying on the ground, naked, there was no horse nearby. From weakness, Pyotr Ivanovich could not even move. Then he turned to God with prayer:
- God! I am very sinful before You, I did not go to Your temple! Forgive me, help me, don't let me die without repentance! I promise that I will go to church!
After that, he lost consciousness and woke up in my house. It happened like this. That day, after the liturgy, I had to go to the city on business. As I was driving through the forest, I heard someone moaning. I see someone lying. I crossed myself, got off the cart and walked closer. How surprised I was to see Pyotr Ivanovich in front of me! He, poor thing, was covered in blood and unconscious. I somehow put him on a cart and brought him to my home.
A day later he came to his senses.
Pyotr Ivanovich was ill for six months. The owner fired him, and he was left without a piece of bread. During his illness, he never once complained about the Lord God, he prayed all the time and said:
- I deserve it. Glory to Thee, Lord!
When he felt better, he decided to look for a job, but I didn’t let him in:
- Where will you go? You're not completely healthy yet. Thank God, there is some, you and I have enough, we can feed ourselves. Because my family died, now you too will leave. I won't let you in for anything!
So Pyotr Ivanovich stayed with me to live. He began to go to church often, prayed a lot, and thanked the Lord for everything.
A year passed unnoticed, and the Feast of the Most Holy Trinity arrived again. On this day, Pyotr Ivanovich prayed for a long time on his knees in the temple. When he came home I asked:
-What did you pray so hard for?
“I asked the Lord to place me somewhere.” I can’t eat your bread for nothing! - And he cried.
And I said:
- What are you talking about, God be with you! Who reproaches you with bread? God is merciful and will not forsake you.
As soon as I said these words, I brought a parcel and a letter addressed to Pyotr Ivanovich. What is it, I think, because he never received letters.
And he tells me:
“They probably sent this to you, but they wrote my name by mistake.”
I took the letter, began to read and could not believe my eyes. This letter was sent by the one who robbed Pyotr Ivanovich on Trinity Day and through whose fault he was left without a piece of bread! You may be asking who this man was? I don’t know this, he didn’t say anything about himself.
This unkind man wrote that he wanted to hide the stolen money for a rainy day. But his conscience did not give him peace, every day it became more and more difficult for him. In the end he decided to return the money.
I silently handed the letter to Pyotr Ivanovich. After reading it, he began to cry, knelt down before the image of the Savior and began to pray.
And I couldn’t hold back my tears either.
The repentance of a schismatic
This is what a peasant, a parishioner of our church, told me:
- I, father, in my youth was in schism along with my family. But the merciful Lord, Who does not want the death of a sinner, enlightened me, the damned one.
My father bequeathed to take his body after death to the village of Lisenki, where there was a sect of the Bespopovtsy. And there, after the funeral service, the schismatic priest, that is, the old maid, bury him in the forest, where schismatics are usually buried.
When my father died, I, fulfilling my father’s will, took his body to Lisenki. Then we, schismatics, were afraid of the Orthodox, if they found out about the burial in the forest, they had to inform the authorities about it, a policeman would come to us, and then there would be an investigation... So I went in the dead of night. To get to Little Foxes we had to go through the forest. The ride with the dead man, the night, the cry of owls - all this made me very despondent. But I continued to drive, thinking that I was doing a good, holy deed - I was fulfilling my father’s behest. But then a terrible thing happened. Probably, the Lord took pity on His perishing creation and wanted to return me, the accursed one, to the bosom of the Mother - the Holy Orthodox Church, from which my father left and carried me away to destruction.
Having driven halfway, I accidentally turned around and saw that my late father was lying on the road! “What a miracle,” I thought. - The cart was moving quietly. I heard if a body fell on the road!” However, the body of the deceased lay on the ground, and the empty coffin stood covered with a lid!
It was as if an invisible force snatched the body of my unfortunate father, who died without church repentance, and threw him to the ground. Even the hair on my head started to stand up and I got chills. Even now I’m scared to remember this... I put the body in a coffin and tied the lid with a rope. And what? After some time, the body was on the ground again! This was repeated three times.
And the enemy, father, has darkened me, the accursed one! I had to go back, but I kept driving forward like one possessed, afraid that my fellow schismatics would laugh at me.
A schismatic at the cemetery. Russian North.
Photo from the beginning of the 20th century.
I don’t remember how I got to Little Fox, then I buried my father, according to the custom of schismatics, in the wilderness of the forest.
This terrible incident had such an effect on me that I soon left the schism and joined the Orthodox Church, and with me my family converted to Orthodoxy.
Since then, father, the schismatics have disgusted me, I avoid conversations with them, like a deadly infection. This is how the Lord taught me.
Bound in chains
I recently heard an amazing story. In one parish, after the death of the rector, a new priest took his place. A few days later he also departed to the Lord. Another priest took his place. But the same thing happened to him - he soon died! Thus, the parish lost two new priests within a month.
The spiritual authorities found a new candidate for the vacant seat; he turned out to be a young priest. His first service in the temple took place on a holiday.
Entering the altar, the priest unexpectedly saw, not far from the holy throne, an unfamiliar priest, in full vestments, but shackled on his hands and feet with heavy iron chains. Wondering what all this meant, the priest, however, did not lose his presence of mind. Remembering why he came to the temple, he began the usual sacred service with a proskomedia, and after reading the third and sixth hours, he performed the entire Divine Liturgy, not paying attention to the outside priest, who after the end of the service became invisible.
Portrait of a priest. 1848 Hood. Alexey Korzukhin
Then the priest realized that that shackled priest had come from the afterlife. But what this meant, and why he was standing in the altar and not in another place, he could not understand. The unknown prisoner did not utter a single word during the service, he only raised his chained hands, pointing to one place in the altar, not far from the throne.
The same thing happened at the next service. The new priest looked at the place where the ghost was pointing. Taking a closer look, he noticed a small dilapidated bag lying on the floor, near the wall. He picked it up, untied it and found there many notes about health and repose, such as are usually given to the priest for commemoration at the proskomedia.
Then the priest realized that these notes had remained unread by the deceased rector of the temple, who had come to him from the afterlife. Then he remembered at the proskomedia the names of everyone who was in those notes. And then I saw how I helped the dead priest. He had barely finished reading these notes when the heavy iron chains with which the afterlife prisoner was bound fell to the ground with a clang.
And the former abbot approached the priest, without saying a word, fell on his knees in front of him and bowed. After that he became invisible again.
Service to the Fatherland
Once I was invited to the consecration of an official’s apartment. Having quickly dressed, I went out into the street, where this gentleman’s servant, a strong soldier, was waiting for me. While we were walking, I asked him how long he had been in the service?
– Father, I have already been retired for two years.
- How many years did you serve?
- Twenty five.
I was surprised. He was so young that he could not have been more than thirty years old.
– Probably, the service was easy, without much difficulty?
“I don’t know what to say to this, father.” Can a soldier have easy service? The soldier takes the oath to work! For example, I served for twenty-five years - all in the Caucasus. How much I had to endure during this time! Yes, how much I walked, or rather crawled, through the Caucasus mountains! I was in Dagestan and Chechnya, but you never know! He may not have belonged to the first Caucasian daredevils, but he did not lag behind them.
– How were you able to maintain your health so well? – I asked.
- This, father, is because of God’s special mercy towards me. That’s why I think I got into military service.
- Do you really look at military service as a special mercy of God towards man? – I asked in surprise.
- Of course, father!
- Why?
- But because because of my military service I see the light of God and am happy in my family life.
- How is this possible? – I asked.
“I was born in a village,” he began. “My father was a peasant, and of his three sons I am the eldest. In the sixteenth year of my life, the Lord was pleased to test me: I began to lose my sight. Since I was my father's assistant, my illness saddened him greatly. Despite his poverty, he gave his last penny of his labor for my treatment, but neither home remedies nor medicines helped.
We turned in prayer to the Lord, and to the Mother of God, and to the saints, but even here we were not granted mercy. After some time, my illness worsened, and finally I became completely blind. This happened exactly two years after the onset of my illness. Having completely lost my sight, I began to grope and often stumbled. It was hard for me then; there was a constant, endless night in front of me. It was no easier for my dear parents.
Head of a soldier crossing himself. 1897
Hood. Vasily Surikov
One day, when I was alone in the house, my father came in. Putting his hand on my shoulder, he sat down next to me and thought. His silence lasted for a long time. Finally I couldn't stand it anymore.
“Father,” I said, “are you still grieving for me?” For what? I went blind because God wanted it that way. “Well, father, did you want to tell me,” I asked him, “tell me frankly!”
- Eh, Andryusha, how can I tell you something happy? I think that you need to go to the blind and learn from them to beg for Christ’s sake. At least then you can help us with something, and you won’t go hungry yourself!
And then I realized the gravity of my situation and the extreme poverty because of which my father suffered. Instead of answering, I cried.
Father began to console me as best he could.
“You are not the first,” he said, “and you are not the last, Andryusha, my child!” Probably, it is God’s will that the blind should feed on His name. And they ask in the name of God...
“It’s true,” I noted in excitement, “the blind beg for alms in the name of God, but how many of them live like Christians?” Father, I thought about this myself, knowing your need, but I just couldn’t stop myself! I’d rather work day and night, move millstones and starve myself, but I won’t walk through windows, I won’t wander around markets and fairs!
After such a decisive refusal, my father no longer insisted or reminded me of alms.
At the beginning of October, the priest came from the street and, turning to his mother, said with a sigh:
“We will have a lot of tears in the village.”
- Why? - asked the mother.
- Yes, they announced recruitment into the army.
- Big?
- Yes, not small!
Then the priest suddenly asked me:
- What, Andryusha, if God gave you back your sight, would you become a soldier? Would you serve for your brothers?
- With the greatest joy! – I answered. - It is better to serve the sovereign and the Fatherland than to walk around with a bag and eat someone else’s bread for nothing. If the Lord would restore my sight, I would go to the same set!
“If the Lord were merciful to your promise, I would gladly bless you!”
- And I! – added the mother.
That was the end of the evening. In the morning I got up early, washed my face and, forgetting about yesterday’s conversation, began to pray. And, oh joy! I suddenly began to see!
- Father, mother! - I shouted. – Pray with me! Get on your knees before the Lord! It seems He took pity on me!
Father and mother threw themselves on their knees in front of the images:
- Lord have mercy! Lord, save me!
A week later I was completely healthy, and at the beginning of November I already became a soldier. Twenty-five years of my service have passed, and my eyes have never hurt. And wherever I have been, under what winds, in what damp places, what heat have I endured! Now I am married, retired, and can feed my family with honest work.
After that, father, I look at military service as God’s mercy towards me! Apparently, father, serving the Orthodox sovereign is pleasing to the Lord!
