Vladimir S.
“Now see, young man, that you don’t let me
down.”
In August
of 2007, my wife and I took a tour of the Golden Ring.1 We travelled to the
museums, monasteries, and churches. Not as pilgrims, but just to raise our
cultural level. We always regarded the Church with respect, considered
ourselves Orthodox, but we had no more than a vague understanding of
Christianity, taken mainly from western films.
At forty
years of age I thought that Christians believed in a Single God—Jesus Christ. I
was even slightly preoccupied with the question: Where did God the Father go
after the resurrection of the Son? I heard something about the Trinity, which
was mixed up in my head with Andrei Rublev, the angels, and Abraham. I had also
heard of the Holy Spirit but it just didn’t fit into my concept of
Christianity, although I read the Gospels— three from start to finish and half
of John. The last one seemed awfully complicated, and I didn’t have the
werewithall.
Well, of
course I knew how to behave in church, just like any Orthodox person. I walked
in, crossed myself, and bought some candles—one for the dead, another for the
Mother of God, a third for God, and a fourth for the saint. You light a candle,
place it in the candle stand, cross yourself, ask the Mother of God for family
happiness, God for defense against your enemies, the Crucifix for help for your
relatives in the other world, and the saint—something for yourself.
My life
at the time was more or less successful. A loving wife, children, a good job,
material prosperity, vacations on sunny beaches and in beautiful cities.
Everything was fine. My wife unexpectedly got the inclination to skip the
Canaries and ride along the Golden Ring instead. We had never been there; let’s
go and partake of our own culture. Off we went.
Well,
among the other places of interest we were taken to the Monastery of the
Resurrection in the town of Uglich. They lead us off the bus, told us about
when it was founded, when it was closed, and when it was restored, and then
took us to the monastery church. It was a plain building, with whitewashed
walls. It looked more like a peasant hut than an Orthodox church.
I looked,
and on the wall hung two large icons—one of St. Seraphim of Sarov, and one of
some other elderly man. Although I knew nothing about the Holy Trinity I knew
and respected St. Seraphim. I looked at the saints and suddenly and
unexpectedly felt I could trust them. I wanted to go up and ask a secret wish.
An inexplicable conviction arose that if you ask they will give it to you.
Because
my life was more or less successful I had allowed myself to grow a respectable
beer belly, a double chin, and fat cheeks. I drank a lot of expensive alcohol,
chased by an abundance of caloric appetizers—mostly meat. This caused me
problems with physical exercise. I dreamt of going to the gym and dropping
extra weight but my corpulent body resisted and held me back.
So now I
looked at St. Seraphim and the second elder and asked them, “Help me to start
going to the gym; I want to get in shape and be strong, I don’t want this
oncoming flabbiness. Give me a push, give me the opportunity to make the first
step, and I won’t let you down.”
I don’t
know how to explain this, but they looked at me sternly and I heard the answer:
“Look, young man, you promised not to let me down.”
Young
man? At age forty? Why “young man”? “Of course I promise,” I said. “You just
give me a push, help me out.”
I left
the church fully expecting a wave of unprecedented physical energy, but nothing
happened. I did not become stronger or more energetic the next day either, nor
the next week, nor the next…
A month
later I quit drinking. I woke up one morning after the usual drinking bout and
understood that I will not drink anymore. That’s enough. I’d drunk my fill. Of
course I was sure that this caprice would pass by evening. It wasn’t the first
morning I had resolved to stop drinking, and by that time I had a lot of
experience. But it didn’t pass. Two days later, lost in my guesses as to what
had happened to me, I suddenly remembered Father Seraphim’s stern look and his
demand that I not let him down.
Now I
haven’t drunk for six years, I go to the gym and the pool, have a better
physique and have shed a number of ailments. I am not drawn to alcohol in the
least, and this is without any effort on my part. It’s an ordinary Miracle.
But most
importantly, my wife and I now believe in the Trinity One in Essence and
Undivided; we know what repentance is, we receive Holy Communion, and after
three decades of living together we have been married sacramentally in the
church.
Thanks to
the prayers of St. Seraphim I now know that my life was not successful at all,
but to the contrary I had spent the greater part of it drinking and eating, but
I am not offended at the saint for letting me know this.
I thank
you Father Seraphim, for your prayers for this forty-year-old teenager, which
saved his life!
Nikita Ovchinikov
I feel warm! Warm!
In the
summer of 2013 my mother’s friend came to visit us. For about two months she
was unable to cure a bad cough. Her “hack-hack” carried throughout the
apartment. It is worth noting that this lady was a Tatar Muslim. During our
conversation, between her coughing bouts, she took an icon of St. Seraphim of
Sarov and pressed it to her chest. “Help me, please!” she said beforehand.
“I feel
warm! Warm!” she said, now afterward. Her surprise knew no bounds—the warmth
was so strong that the icon left a red mark on her chest. That is how Father
Seraphim helped a person in need, and also strengthened our faith. Wondrous is
God in His saints!
Boris Savinov
Despair overwhelmed my soul
The holy
wonderworker and God-pleaser: great are his miracles! I always ask him to
strengthen my faith. I always ask him to confirm me in the faith and
understanding of God’s will. I did time in a penitentiary in Nizhny Novgorod
province, and at times despair overwhelmed my soul.
Once it
became very hard; I was in the hospital and the brothers of a local church
brought me oil blessed on the saint’s relics. I made the sign of the cross with
it on my forehead and prayed. The saint’s example of praying on the rock2
always gave me strength. I recovered, was released before the end of my term,
and haven’t backslidden for five years now. I live and labor, and glory be to
God, although things are not problem-free it is not that outer darkness that I
had before. Glory be to God. Rejoice, holy God-pleaser Seraphim!!!
Vladimir
My wife and I were unable to have children
for a long time
For me,
St. Seraphim of Sarov is one of the greatest saints! I feel his wonderworking
help every time I turn to him with prayer. My wife and I were unable to have
children for a long time. Our relationship was not working out.
In 2012
we took my mother-in-law to Diveyevo, and she is not a religious woman. Well,
we went to all the holy places. We immersed ourselves in all the holy springs
and venerated St. Seraphim’s relics. And a miracle occurred. No more than a month
went by before my wife got pregnant. Now our daughter Nastenka was born—a
strong, healthy child.
I
continue to go to Diveyevo alone, with pilgrimage groups by bus, because my
wife is breastfeeding. But when Nastenka gets bigger the whole family will
definitely continue to visit Diveyevo. That is our St. Seraphim of Sarov—a
great wonderworker! May the Lord help us all!
Source: http://pravoslavie.ru/76529.html
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