I absolutely ADORE Pastor Nadia!!! I stumbled upon her early in my ministry career and she gave me the courage to embrace who I am and my whole, vulnerable story. I was making myself sick trying to pastor like the other women in ministry around me. I leaned into the idea that God called me to ministry not in spite of who I am and where I’ve been, but because of it. What a gift you both are!!!
And you know what? Who you are and your whole vulnerable story is what makes you approachable. I could never get close to all those other women [or men] in the ministry. You? I think I like.
I am a priest and theologian of the Orthodox Church, living and serving in Greece. I read your writings with great attention and, many times, with admiration. I often find profound insights that I borrow for my own pastoral ministry.
Although we live on different continents, in different countries, and within different Christian traditions, our common ground is that both you and I are called to speak about the Kingdom of God to people living in the year 2025.
When this first occurred, I thought of it as survival, a way of surviving in a difficult job. But upon reflection, I now realize that it was grace. My younger sister in Nashville died last June at the age of 65. She had struggled with mental illness for her entire life, and her health had deteriorated dramatically. She was in the hospital being treated for COPD when it was discovered that she also had AFIB. My brother and I live in different states from our sister, and when we received the call that she had suffered a heart attack, we both traveled to Nashville to see her and to talk to her doctors. We were told that it had been several minutes before anyone at the hospital realized that her heart had stopped, and by the time that they got it started, she had suffered considerable brain damage. For a week, we met with doctors and waited until they performed numerous tests. She was on life support, and she had never regained consciousness. Finally, after hearing what her life would be like, basically a vegetative state, my brother and I had to make the incredibly difficult and weighty decision to have her removed from life support. I sat in her room as the procedure was completed. The gentle technician arrived, greeted me kindly, and drew a curtain so that I could not see what he was doing, but I could hear him as he worked. He spoke softly to my sister, calling her "Sweetie," and talked to her about what he was doing as if she were conscious and could hear him. Finally, he drew back the curtain and let me sit with her. "That is what you have to do to survive in a job like this," I thought. But no. It was, purely and simply, grace.
When have you caught a glimpse of that Kingdom within?
How I stumbled into the great I AM.
The following night, she couldn’t sleep. As a child, drifting off into an unconscious slumber was a means of escape, her one true refuge. Out of necessity, she trained her mind to go solid black, allowing her to shut down the voices in her head. It was the equivalent of a chalkboard eraser. The skill followed her into adulthood and as long as she wasn’t detoxing from drugs; she continued to drift into sleep with ease.
On this night, her brain would not cooperate. It wasn’t clear what thoughts were interfering with her normal ability to wind down. There appeared to be a multitude. All of them were vying for her attention and none of them were succeeding at capturing the spotlight. She implemented a new her meditation process. With closed eyes, lying on her side, she began slow rhythmic breathing. She asked her thoughts to form a line and present themselves one at a time. A nasty accusation jumped to the head of the line.
“You’re a piece of shit.”
It was running on a loop like a hamster on a wheel. Petra did not dwell on it. She allowed it to pass by and drift upwards. She imagined it was a balloon. As it rose, she popped it with an imaginary pin. The thought dissipated with the air from the balloon.
All the different thoughts ran on never ending loops. Each hamster wheel was stacked on top of the next. Layers upon layers, all talking at the same time until they merged into a continuous, imperceptible white background noise. Petra had no previous awareness that she had a constant flow of abusive, self-abasing thoughts altering her perceptions of reality and creating havoc. She continued the process with each thought that rose into her conscious awareness.
“You’re no good.”
“You’ll never amount to anything.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I wish you were dead.”
“You fat little pig.”
This thought startled her. She recognized it as her mother’s voice.
What if these self-condemning thoughts were not her thoughts? Was it possible that they came from the outside in, rather than from the inside out, as she had always believed? Maybe her parents, in moments of disappointment or distress, had planted these ideas. What if she had accepted them as truth and adopted them as core beliefs? Was it possible that everything she believed about herself was a lie?
“I can’t stand to look at you. Get out of my face.”
“You killed my baby!”
“Loser!”
“Why are you alive and she’s dead?”
“I wish you were never born!”
“Stupid, stupid girl. Can’t you do anything right?”
She deflated each thought balloon. Pop, pop, pop until they had all disappeared into the blackness.
Finding herself conscious and awake in the black for the first time was like entering another dimension beyond time and space. It was uncharted territory, an expansive nothingness, empty, void of thought or feeling and yet somehow perfect and serene. She was nothing and awareness at the same time.
“What is this? Where am I?” she asked.
A booming voice that seemed to come from every direction at once answered.
“I Am.”
Petra knew, without a hint of skepticism, that she had found God’s presence inside herself, hidden under all the lies, the bullshit and some seriously destructive programming.
“This is cool. I can work with this. Here’s a foundation I can build something on.”
At peace, she drifted into a deep sleep.
In her morning meditation, she discovered she could assess the “I Am” space and linger as long as she liked. Sometimes, she could see it on the inner screen of her forehead. It appeared as the vast blackness of space filled with stars that fell in a constant stream, like rain. Sometimes, the stars formed patterns and flew in various formations like a flock of birds. Observing the heavens in flight brought up a powerful emotion, a longing for home. Meditation provided a newfound refuge for her. The problems arose when she opened her eyes and jumped back into the “shit” as she liked to call life. She realized that all these insidious hamster wheels needed to be dealt with.
—
An excerpt from CAUGHT UP Truth and Metaphor | An Imaginary Tale
This is just so lovely. Thank you for this beautiful post. I also had no idea that yeast was considered unclean. That just really helps somehow - I think I need to stay and pray with that.
It must say something about me that this type of gritty, down to earth sermon is more moving; encouraging, reinforcing, and comforting, than any exegesis or doxology. Come get down and dirty with me Jesus!!!
Thank you for this and all of your work! And for the Missouri Red State Revival last week. Impactful, meaningful, and connecting. Thank you! Thank you!
I was so disappointed that I had to miss your Red State Revival in St. Louis. We had tickets and were really looking forward to seeing you and your Revival. I came down sick, so we turned our tickets back in so someone else could attend. I just want to say I love you and wish you the best. You're an amazing person! Larry Leip
Like saying, "You only exist when I recognize you." Woah. That is a poignant notion to unpack, and something I know I'm certainly guilty of, even if not always consciously. This has such huge implications that I will be thinking of for some time. Thanks for sharing this.
At funerals I sometimes run into my people. Recently at one I saw a girl I've known since I was 12. Her name is Deidre. I was 13 and she was 14 when I gave her her first shot of speed. Were both in our 50s now. I'm always glad to see her and she knows why I don't come around. Like you I will never understand why some of us addicts die and some live. Or why some of us get clean and some of us don't. . Or why the kingdom of heaven starts out small and gets bigger but I'm grateful that it does. PJ is in heaven and one day me and Deidre will be too. In fact we will see you there too. Keep up the good work sister. Catch you in Atlanta in a few weeks :)
It’s a rare and holy thing when someone dares to name the kingdom of heaven as it truly is—not pristine, but messy, raw, and often found in the places we’d rather not look. In grief that lingers, friendships that falter, and lives that don’t tie up neatly with a bow. Nadia’s words remind us that grace isn’t waiting for us at the finish line of perfection; it’s crawling through the mud with us, whispering love even when we feel unworthy of it.
The sacred doesn’t avoid the places that feel too broken, too far gone. It sets up camp there. Because if the kingdom is within, then it’s also within the parts of us we try to forget—the old scars, the failed friendships, the unanswered prayers. That’s the kind of mercy that doesn’t ask us to be better first. It simply asks us to show up.
And maybe that's the real invitation. To stop trying to outrun our own ghosts and trust that the kingdom isn’t just a future hope but a present grace, already blooming in the cracks.
I absolutely ADORE Pastor Nadia!!! I stumbled upon her early in my ministry career and she gave me the courage to embrace who I am and my whole, vulnerable story. I was making myself sick trying to pastor like the other women in ministry around me. I leaned into the idea that God called me to ministry not in spite of who I am and where I’ve been, but because of it. What a gift you both are!!!
And you know what? Who you are and your whole vulnerable story is what makes you approachable. I could never get close to all those other women [or men] in the ministry. You? I think I like.
Emily, my down to Earth friend, that is high praise indeed! 🫶🏼
What a great calling! To much success in your ministry!
Thanks, Roni!
Dear Nadia,
I am a priest and theologian of the Orthodox Church, living and serving in Greece. I read your writings with great attention and, many times, with admiration. I often find profound insights that I borrow for my own pastoral ministry.
Although we live on different continents, in different countries, and within different Christian traditions, our common ground is that both you and I are called to speak about the Kingdom of God to people living in the year 2025.
Please remember me in your prayers.
With the love of Christ,
Fr. Justin
Clicking the heart doesn't seem like enough, so, I thought i would just tell you i LOVE YOU as emphasis added, mine
💜
When this first occurred, I thought of it as survival, a way of surviving in a difficult job. But upon reflection, I now realize that it was grace. My younger sister in Nashville died last June at the age of 65. She had struggled with mental illness for her entire life, and her health had deteriorated dramatically. She was in the hospital being treated for COPD when it was discovered that she also had AFIB. My brother and I live in different states from our sister, and when we received the call that she had suffered a heart attack, we both traveled to Nashville to see her and to talk to her doctors. We were told that it had been several minutes before anyone at the hospital realized that her heart had stopped, and by the time that they got it started, she had suffered considerable brain damage. For a week, we met with doctors and waited until they performed numerous tests. She was on life support, and she had never regained consciousness. Finally, after hearing what her life would be like, basically a vegetative state, my brother and I had to make the incredibly difficult and weighty decision to have her removed from life support. I sat in her room as the procedure was completed. The gentle technician arrived, greeted me kindly, and drew a curtain so that I could not see what he was doing, but I could hear him as he worked. He spoke softly to my sister, calling her "Sweetie," and talked to her about what he was doing as if she were conscious and could hear him. Finally, he drew back the curtain and let me sit with her. "That is what you have to do to survive in a job like this," I thought. But no. It was, purely and simply, grace.
When have you caught a glimpse of that Kingdom within?
How I stumbled into the great I AM.
The following night, she couldn’t sleep. As a child, drifting off into an unconscious slumber was a means of escape, her one true refuge. Out of necessity, she trained her mind to go solid black, allowing her to shut down the voices in her head. It was the equivalent of a chalkboard eraser. The skill followed her into adulthood and as long as she wasn’t detoxing from drugs; she continued to drift into sleep with ease.
On this night, her brain would not cooperate. It wasn’t clear what thoughts were interfering with her normal ability to wind down. There appeared to be a multitude. All of them were vying for her attention and none of them were succeeding at capturing the spotlight. She implemented a new her meditation process. With closed eyes, lying on her side, she began slow rhythmic breathing. She asked her thoughts to form a line and present themselves one at a time. A nasty accusation jumped to the head of the line.
“You’re a piece of shit.”
It was running on a loop like a hamster on a wheel. Petra did not dwell on it. She allowed it to pass by and drift upwards. She imagined it was a balloon. As it rose, she popped it with an imaginary pin. The thought dissipated with the air from the balloon.
All the different thoughts ran on never ending loops. Each hamster wheel was stacked on top of the next. Layers upon layers, all talking at the same time until they merged into a continuous, imperceptible white background noise. Petra had no previous awareness that she had a constant flow of abusive, self-abasing thoughts altering her perceptions of reality and creating havoc. She continued the process with each thought that rose into her conscious awareness.
“You’re no good.”
“You’ll never amount to anything.”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I wish you were dead.”
“You fat little pig.”
This thought startled her. She recognized it as her mother’s voice.
What if these self-condemning thoughts were not her thoughts? Was it possible that they came from the outside in, rather than from the inside out, as she had always believed? Maybe her parents, in moments of disappointment or distress, had planted these ideas. What if she had accepted them as truth and adopted them as core beliefs? Was it possible that everything she believed about herself was a lie?
“I can’t stand to look at you. Get out of my face.”
“You killed my baby!”
“Loser!”
“Why are you alive and she’s dead?”
“I wish you were never born!”
“Stupid, stupid girl. Can’t you do anything right?”
She deflated each thought balloon. Pop, pop, pop until they had all disappeared into the blackness.
Finding herself conscious and awake in the black for the first time was like entering another dimension beyond time and space. It was uncharted territory, an expansive nothingness, empty, void of thought or feeling and yet somehow perfect and serene. She was nothing and awareness at the same time.
“What is this? Where am I?” she asked.
A booming voice that seemed to come from every direction at once answered.
“I Am.”
Petra knew, without a hint of skepticism, that she had found God’s presence inside herself, hidden under all the lies, the bullshit and some seriously destructive programming.
“This is cool. I can work with this. Here’s a foundation I can build something on.”
At peace, she drifted into a deep sleep.
In her morning meditation, she discovered she could assess the “I Am” space and linger as long as she liked. Sometimes, she could see it on the inner screen of her forehead. It appeared as the vast blackness of space filled with stars that fell in a constant stream, like rain. Sometimes, the stars formed patterns and flew in various formations like a flock of birds. Observing the heavens in flight brought up a powerful emotion, a longing for home. Meditation provided a newfound refuge for her. The problems arose when she opened her eyes and jumped back into the “shit” as she liked to call life. She realized that all these insidious hamster wheels needed to be dealt with.
—
An excerpt from CAUGHT UP Truth and Metaphor | An Imaginary Tale
Thank you God for Dogs today and every day
Oh, yes, yes. Dogs are God's crowning achievement. Thank you, God, for them indeed.
This is just so lovely. Thank you for this beautiful post. I also had no idea that yeast was considered unclean. That just really helps somehow - I think I need to stay and pray with that.
Love it! Love it! Love it!
It must say something about me that this type of gritty, down to earth sermon is more moving; encouraging, reinforcing, and comforting, than any exegesis or doxology. Come get down and dirty with me Jesus!!!
Every single pastor of every faith should read and emulate the spirit of this sermon! Wonderfully said!
Thank you for this and all of your work! And for the Missouri Red State Revival last week. Impactful, meaningful, and connecting. Thank you! Thank you!
Thank you. I really appreciate your transparency and courage❤️
I was so disappointed that I had to miss your Red State Revival in St. Louis. We had tickets and were really looking forward to seeing you and your Revival. I came down sick, so we turned our tickets back in so someone else could attend. I just want to say I love you and wish you the best. You're an amazing person! Larry Leip
Like saying, "You only exist when I recognize you." Woah. That is a poignant notion to unpack, and something I know I'm certainly guilty of, even if not always consciously. This has such huge implications that I will be thinking of for some time. Thanks for sharing this.
At funerals I sometimes run into my people. Recently at one I saw a girl I've known since I was 12. Her name is Deidre. I was 13 and she was 14 when I gave her her first shot of speed. Were both in our 50s now. I'm always glad to see her and she knows why I don't come around. Like you I will never understand why some of us addicts die and some live. Or why some of us get clean and some of us don't. . Or why the kingdom of heaven starts out small and gets bigger but I'm grateful that it does. PJ is in heaven and one day me and Deidre will be too. In fact we will see you there too. Keep up the good work sister. Catch you in Atlanta in a few weeks :)
I love her sermons!
It’s a rare and holy thing when someone dares to name the kingdom of heaven as it truly is—not pristine, but messy, raw, and often found in the places we’d rather not look. In grief that lingers, friendships that falter, and lives that don’t tie up neatly with a bow. Nadia’s words remind us that grace isn’t waiting for us at the finish line of perfection; it’s crawling through the mud with us, whispering love even when we feel unworthy of it.
The sacred doesn’t avoid the places that feel too broken, too far gone. It sets up camp there. Because if the kingdom is within, then it’s also within the parts of us we try to forget—the old scars, the failed friendships, the unanswered prayers. That’s the kind of mercy that doesn’t ask us to be better first. It simply asks us to show up.
And maybe that's the real invitation. To stop trying to outrun our own ghosts and trust that the kingdom isn’t just a future hope but a present grace, already blooming in the cracks.