In 2005, I was gifted a book called Slander, by Ann Coulter. There's no other way of describing my experience of reading that book than to say that it was responsible for my political birth, for good and for ill. I learned from Ann that mainstream media is agenda driven, not facts driven. I also learned from her that historians, like scientists, are generally not unbiased observers. They bring political philosophies and personal hobby horses to bear on events of the past and present. As obvious as these things are to most adults,  these were world shaking revelations to me in 2005. "Truth is everywhere at risk!" I realized, and set about a self-appointed quest to contend for its preservation in my own small ways.

In early 2015, twenty-one Coptic Christians were forced to their knees and beheaded on a Libyan beach by members of ISIS. The event was captured on video by the killers and released on the internet. Rightly, there was a worldwide groan from Christians of many differing traditions about the evil of ISIS's barbaric act. Not only that, but there was also an equally ecumenical reverence for the martyrdom of those men, many of whom could be heard crying out, "Lord Jesus Christ!" at the final moment before their heads were severed from their bodies.

Not everyone was impressed.

With the onset of Lenten abstentions barely nine days hence, I recently got to reminiscing about my first Paschal liturgy. It's an experience I've always envisioned telling as one event along the lengthy timeline of my Orthodox conversion, but as a working, married father of four, writing that complete history seems to become less feasible as time elapses. Given the nearness of the Paschal season and the fact that I haven't written anything in months, I felt this a worthy exercise.

As a 34-year-old who was raised and formally educated as an Evangelical, it may sound strange that my family are on the cusp of entry into the Orthodox Church. It's particularly confusing to Evangelical friends and family who have known me for a long time, and this series of posts I'm beginning is meant largely for them. But it's my hope that these might also serve as a soft touch point for Orthodox inquirers out there who, like myself once upon a time, are looking for present day conversion stories that may help them better understand their own journey (and give them hope!). So to you, inquirer, fear not. The journey is necessary and worth it. To my friends and family asking "Why?," I hope this account will be accessible, personable and satisfying. It's probably unavoidable that some will find grounds for disagreement or even frustration with some of my theological turns over the last 4+ years, but after this series is complete, at least my journey should be demystified.

Journeys of faith are bizarre. And by journeys of faith, I don't refer broadly to "going through hard times." Rather, I mean the experience of suffering through a protracted shifting of belief about something (or some things) that can involve the painful uprooting of long held and cherished non-negotiables. I want to take this moment to divulge such a journey as I have been on for nearly three and a half years now, and on which my wife blessedly came to join me in recent months.