Between What I Know and What I’m Learning

As our church search continues, which has been harder than I thought it would be, we have found ourselves focusing on two traditions we never expected to seriously consider at the same time: the Orthodox Church and the Anglican Church.

I grew up Protestant, in a world where Orthodoxy was rarely discussed and often not even considered Christian. It felt foreign, distant, and outside the categories I was taught to think in. So now, being drawn toward Orthodoxy has been surprising — and unsettling — in ways I didn’t anticipate. One of the things that pulls me toward the Orthodox Church is its claim of continuity — that its teachings can be traced directly back to the apostles. Not rebuilt later, not reorganized centuries afterward, but carefully preserved and lived out through the life of the Church itself. When I place that alongside the verse describing the Church as the pillar and foundation of the truth, that claim suddenly makes more sense than it ever did before. It reframes how authority and truth might be held, not only in Scripture, but in the Church that guards it. Orthodoxy is very different from anything I have known.

About ten years ago, we visited a Russian Orthodox Church in Florida after being invited by a friend. I remember how peaceful it felt. I didn’t understand much of what was happening, but the stillness stayed with me. That same peace is still present now. At the same time, there are parts of Orthodox worship that are difficult for me. The chanting — half sung, half read — can be distracting. I understand the reasoning behind it, but my mind sometimes struggles to stay grounded in it. The service is mostly standing, which is unfamiliar. And while I understand the theology of icons — that they are not worshipped, but are windows to heaven, representing those alive in Christ — I still struggle with practices like kissing icons. I understand it logically, but it hasn’t settled into my heart yet. Still, I genuinely like the environment and the people at the Orthodox Church. There is a seriousness and reverence there that I respect deeply, a reverence we've been searching for.

The Anglican Church we are visiting is part of the ACNA (Anglican Church in North America), not affiliated with the Church of England. In many ways, it feels like a reformed Catholic expression — liturgical, structured, and rooted in history, while still existing within a Protestant framework. What surprised me most is how familiar it feels. Many of the hymns and songs are the same ones we sang in the church that closed down. There are corporate prayers, spoken together. There is the doxology. Those familiar words have a way of settling my heart, reminding me of stability we once had. Anglican worship feels easier for me to understand. There is more sitting, a sermon, and a rhythm closer to what I grew up with. The singing is triumphant and declarative. Where Orthodoxy feels peaceful and contemplative, Anglican worship feels strong and grounding.

I like both — for different reasons. One feels familiar and steady. The other feels ancient and challenging.

As the year moves closer to its end, this unsettled feeling has begun to weigh on me more heavily. There have been moments where it has brought me to intense tears, not because of confusion alone, but because of my children. I worry about the lack of belonging, the lack of rootedness. With only a few months left in the year, we feel a bit like nomads — moving from place to place without truly belonging anywhere.

So for now, we are trying to not force a decision. Key word: trying. We plan to continue visiting both churches for a season. To learn. To listen. To pray. To allow space for growth without rushing. For now, we remain in between, trusting that God will lead us where we need to be.