You pray. You fast. You go to church. You confess your sins. You read Scripture. You receive the Eucharist. And you do all of this not as a checklist for earning God’s approval, but as medicine for your soul, the means by which Christ heals you and makes you whole.
Living as an Orthodox Christian isn’t about separating your life into “religious time” and “regular time.” It’s about letting the rhythm of the Church shape everything you do. Your work at the plant, your time with your kids, your morning coffee, the way you treat the cashier at Brookshire’s, all of it becomes part of your offering to God when you’re living liturgically.
Prayer as the Oxygen of Your Day
Start with morning and evening prayers. Get yourself a prayer book, the Antiochian Prayer Book works fine, or just use the morning and evening prayers your parish provides. These aren’t magic formulas. They’re how you bookend your day with God, how you remember who you are and whose you are before the day scatters your attention in fifty directions.
The Jesus Prayer becomes your constant companion: “Lord Jesus Christ, Son of God, have mercy on me, a sinner.” Say it while you’re driving down I-10. Say it when you’re waiting for a meeting to start. Say it when your teenager’s giving you grief or when anxiety starts creeping in during hurricane season. It’s not about saying it perfectly. It’s about turning your heart toward Christ throughout the day.
Don’t try to be St. Seraphim of Sarov your first week. Start small. Five minutes of morning prayer. The Jesus Prayer a dozen times during the day. Evening prayers before bed. Build from there. Talk to your priest about what’s realistic for your life, he’s not going to hand you a monastic rule if you’re working rotating shifts and raising three kids.
Fasting as Freedom, Not Punishment
We fast on Wednesdays and Fridays. We fast during Great Lent, the Nativity Fast, the Apostles’ Fast, and the Dormition Fast. We fast before receiving Communion. This means no meat, dairy, or eggs on fast days, and sometimes no fish, wine, or oil depending on how strict the fast is.
But here’s what fasting isn’t: it isn’t you white-knuckling your way through a diet to prove you’re spiritual enough. It’s training. When you tell your body “no” to something good (a cheeseburger), you’re practicing telling yourself “no” to things that aren’t good (anger, lust, pride). You’re also standing in solidarity with the poor who don’t get to choose what they eat.
If you’re pregnant, nursing, elderly, sick, or dealing with an eating disorder, the fasting rules bend. Talk to your priest. The goal is healing, not heroics. And if you mess up and eat a donut on a Wednesday, you confess it and move on. You’re not disqualified from the faith.
The Liturgy Is Your Center
Everything else in Orthodox life radiates out from the Divine Liturgy. Sunday morning (or Saturday evening Vespers and Sunday morning, if you can swing it) is when you receive Christ’s actual Body and Blood. Not a symbol. Not a memorial. Him.
Miss Liturgy for a few weeks and you’ll feel it. You’ll start to drift. The Eucharist is how you stay connected to the vine, how you receive the grace you need to actually live this life. Make it non-negotiable. When your Baptist relatives want to plan the family reunion on Sunday morning, you smile and say, “We’ll be there after church.”
Weekday services matter too. Vespers on Wednesday evening. Presanctified Liturgy during Lent. The feast day services. You can’t make all of them, most of us can’t, but when you can, go. They’re not extra credit. They’re how the Church forms you into the shape of Christ.
Confession Keeps You Honest
You’ll need to confess regularly. Monthly is good for most people. Quarterly at minimum. More often if you’re struggling with something specific. Confession isn’t about groveling or feeling terrible about yourself. It’s about naming what’s broken, receiving absolution, and getting practical advice from your priest about how to actually change.
Find a spiritual father if you can, a priest who knows you, who can guide your prayer life and help you discern what disciplines you need and which ones you don’t. This relationship is gold. Don’t try to figure out the spiritual life on your own.
Scripture and the Saints
Read the Gospel. Daily if you can manage it. The Epistle reading for the day. A chapter from the Psalms. Let the words soak in. You’re not trying to master the Bible like a textbook. You’re listening for God’s voice.
Read the lives of the saints. They’re not fairy tales or ancient history. They’re your family, showing you what it looks like to follow Christ in every possible situation, martyrs and monks, yes, but also mothers and soldiers and people who worked regular jobs and raised families. St. John Chrysostom has a lot to say about daily life. So does St. Theophan the Recluse, despite his name.
Your Ordinary Life Becomes Prayer
Here’s the thing your Protestant friends might not get: Orthodoxy doesn’t divide life into sacred and secular. When you bless your food, you’re acknowledging that this meal is a gift. When you keep an icon corner in your home, you’re reminding yourself that heaven intersects with your living room. When you teach your kids to cross themselves and say their prayers, you’re handing them the tools they’ll need for the rest of their lives.
Your work becomes an offering. Fixing a valve, teaching a class, changing a diaper, all of it can be done “as unto the Lord,” as St. Paul says. The Church calendar gives you a rhythm. Nativity and Theophany and Pascha aren’t just days off. They’re the story of salvation unfolding year after year, shaping how you see time itself.
This isn’t easy. Nobody said it would be. But it’s real. It’s a life that actually changes you from the inside out, not because you’re trying hard enough, but because you’re showing up and letting God do the work. Start where you are. Pray the prayers. Go to church. Confess. Fast when you can. Read a little Scripture. Let the Church carry you when you can’t carry yourself. That’s how you live as an Orthodox Christian.
