Start with what you have in common, not what divides you. Your friends love Jesus, read Scripture, and want to follow Him. So do you. That’s real.
Here’s what I’d say: “We’re the Church that’s been around since the beginning. Not a new denomination, not a split-off. The same worship, the same faith, the same sacraments the Apostles gave us.” That’s not arrogance. It’s just what we believe, and your friends deserve to hear it straight.
Most folks in Southeast Texas grew up thinking “church” means a building with a stage, a praise band, maybe a coffee bar in the lobby. That’s fine. But Orthodoxy looks different because it’s older. When your friend asks why we stand for two hours singing ancient prayers instead of sitting in chairs with a guitar-driven worship set, you can say this: “We’re doing what Christians have done for two thousand years. It’s slower, more sensory, more participatory. We’re not watching a service. We’re praying it together.”
Don’t get defensive about the incense and the chanting. Just invite them to Vespers on a weeknight. It’s shorter, quieter, less overwhelming than a Sunday Liturgy. Let them see it before you explain it. Most people need to experience Orthodox worship before the words make sense.
The Icon Question
This one comes up fast. “Why do you pray to pictures?”
You don’t. When you kiss an icon or light a candle in front of one, you’re honoring the person it shows. It’s like kissing a photo of your grandmother. You’re not worshiping the paper. You’re expressing love for the person. The Seventh Ecumenical Council settled this back in 787, but your friends don’t need a history lesson right away. They need a simple answer.
Try this: “We venerate icons. We don’t worship them. There’s a difference. Worship goes to God alone. Veneration is honor, respect, love. When I stand before an icon of St. Paul, I’m asking him to pray for me, just like I’d ask you to pray for me.”
And that leads straight into the saints question. “Why ask dead people to pray?” Because they’re not dead. They’re alive in Christ, standing before God right now. The Church includes both the living and the departed. We’re all one Body. When you ask St. Michael the Archangel to pray for you, you’re doing what Christians have always done, asking fellow members of Christ’s Body to intercede. Your Baptist grandmother asks her Sunday school class to pray for her surgery. We ask the saints. Same principle, bigger family.
The Salvation Conversation
This one’s tricky because the language is so different. Your non-denominational friends talk about being saved, past tense, done deal, signed and sealed. We talk about salvation as a process. Both are true in a way, but we’re emphasizing different things.
When someone asks if you’re saved, say yes. Christ saved us. That’s the Gospel. But then add: “Salvation isn’t just a moment. It’s a lifelong journey of becoming like Christ. We call it theosis. God became man so man could become like God, not in essence, but in participation. We’re being healed, transformed, made whole.”
Think of it like this. Baptism isn’t graduation. It’s enrollment. You’ve been adopted into God’s family, but now you’re learning to live as His child. That takes a lifetime of repentance, prayer, fasting, confession, and receiving the Eucharist. It’s not that you earn salvation, you can’t. But you’re cooperating with God’s grace, letting Him change you from the inside out.
Your friends might push back with “once saved, always saved.” Don’t argue. Just say: “We believe God’s mercy is real and His grace is powerful. But we also believe we have to keep saying yes to Him. It’s a relationship, not a legal contract. Relationships require faithfulness.”
Making the Invitation
Don’t just explain Orthodoxy. Invite your friends into it.
“Come to Pascha with me.” That’s the best invitation. The Saturday night service, the darkness turning to light, the procession, the feast. Even if they don’t understand a word, they’ll feel something. Pascha does its own evangelism.
Or start smaller. “Come to Vespers this Wednesday. It’s forty-five minutes, mostly singing and Scripture. I’ll sit with you and explain what’s happening.” Offer to be their guide. Non-denominational churches are usually pretty user-friendly. Orthodoxy isn’t. We need to help people navigate it.
And for heaven’s sake, invite them to coffee hour. Southerners understand hospitality. If they meet real people who love Jesus and love them, half your work is done. Let them see that Orthodox Christians aren’t weird foreigners or stuffy ritualists. We’re regular people trying to follow Christ in the Church He founded.
What Not to Say
Don’t trash their church. Even if you left a non-denominational background and have critiques, save them. Lead with what you’ve found, not what you’ve left behind. “I love the depth of the Liturgy” lands better than “Praise choruses are shallow.”
Don’t get into arguments about the rapture or predestination or whether their baptism counts. Those conversations can happen later, with a priest, if they’re serious about inquiring. Right now you’re just opening a door.
And don’t dump a reading list on them. One book, maybe. I’d suggest Becoming Orthodox by Fr. Peter Gillquist if they want a story, or The Orthodox Church by Met. Kallistos Ware if they want theology. But mostly, just invite them to come and see.
Your friends are looking for Jesus. So are you. You’ve found Him in the Eucharist, in the prayers of the Church, in two thousand years of unbroken faith. Show them that. Let the Church speak for herself. She’s been doing it a long time.
