All that you will read here may sound strange, but I feel a profound need to write and share it. I do not consider it important to reveal my name, but rather to share my life. I am 30 years old and live in Skopje. I was born into a wonderful family where we lived in love and harmony, and although I lost my mother when I was 12, I received immense love from my father, grandmother, and my older siblings. All of them took exceptional care of me. Every time they gave me new chances, I repeated the same mistakes. I made far more mistakes than anyone imagined, and the most tragic part is that I did not even recognize some of them as such—until I came to Bigorski Monastery.
I have been in the monastery for six months, and I have had plenty of time to reflect and recognize every fault in my life. Sitting here, I have realized that my greatest failing was removing God from my life. It may sound as if I have lost my mind, but everything I am sharing here are true events from my life. Since childhood, I yearned to be unique, to stand out, and I attempted to achieve that in many ways. From the West, through all media channels, a corrupt lifestyle was being promoted—something I now recognize as wrong; in a way, it was as if sin had been legalized. The media celebrated sex, drugs, alcohol, cigarettes, rebellion, a mindless philosophy: “Live fast, die young,” and to me, all of that was endlessly appealing and seemed entirely “cool.” As I grew, I became more and more fascinated by this lifestyle, adopting it easily, believing it to be the true way to enjoy life. Time passed, and gradually things stopped being as bright as they had been in the beginning. The fun moments faded away, and I increasingly became a slave to the grip of drugs. I began to neglect everything else, even the things I loved most. I lost the sensitivity I had as a child, becoming selfish, indifferent, egotistical, and believed all these traits to be virtues.
There were moments when I would stop and think, feeling a heavy sadness and asking myself, “What are you doing? Can’t you see you’ve lost control over your life?” But these moments were fleeting. Drugs reigned supreme over my life. Many times, I gathered the strength to defeat my addiction—sometimes for myself, often for my loved ones, who were visibly suffering. I would partially overcome it, get back on my feet, pass an exam, find a girlfriend, travel somewhere, and then slowly, without noticing, I would sink deeper than before. From mid-2015 to early 2016, I felt an enormous inner emptiness and a dull sensation in my chest that simply would not go away. Nothing could make me happy anymore. I dulled this feeling partially with drugs and alcohol, and whenever I had the chance—with relationships.
A turning point in my life came when I stole my father’s credit card, initially intending to take money only once to buy drugs, hoping I could repay it before he noticed. But gradually, I found myself in an inescapable situation, and considering my options, I decided to avoid the endless arguments at home by going to the one place where no one would judge me and where I would be accepted as I was. That place was the Bigorski Monastery of St. John the Baptist. Without knowing much about it, I arrived in a chaotic state of mind, with little hope for change. My struggle with vices was trivial compared to my deep psychological turmoil. Immediately upon arrival, I noticed that there was nothing here that I once enjoyed. Yet a glimmer of hope emerged within me, whispering that I might succeed here. Perhaps selfishly, I chose to forget the chaos I had left behind and focus on working on myself.
At first, I felt aversion toward Christianity; despite my father’s lifelong insistence to the contrary, I viewed it as something for the uneducated and the simple-minded. However, as the days passed, I began to feel the peace that permeated the monastery, and I noticed certain qualities among the monks. They possessed such profound love and understanding, unlike anything I had ever encountered. I began to wonder what kept them so detached from the rest of the world. They were people of diverse backgrounds and personalities, yet they all had the same light in their eyes, reflecting the purity of their souls. They became a true mystery to me.
When the Great Lent began with the trimiron (a three-day complete fast from food and drink), I decided, despite still suffering withdrawal symptoms, to muster the courage to do everything the monks were doing. It was far from easy, even as I gave it my all. I couldn’t match half of what they were doing, their enthusiasm was unlike anything I had seen. With considerable difficulty, I endured the trimiron, after which I went to my first confession and spoke with Father Parthenius, the person responsible for the entire Bigorski Monastery, the Rajčica Monastery, and all of us struggling with addiction. He is a man of boundless love, which leaves no one indifferent, not even those of other faiths. His patience and faithfulness are unmatched, and whenever we were struggling, he encouraged us with wise teachings. Our sorrows were his sorrows, yet he never despaired. There was always new hope in his voice.
At my first confession, I shared all the problems I had, including my lack of belief in God. He responded with complete humility, asking, “Why, my child?” I replied, “With so many religions, how do I know which is the true one?” He thought for a moment and answered simply, without a trace of doubt: “Stay here, be obedient, and God will reveal Himself to you.”
Even though Father Parthenius shared his advice, I held few expectations. I was still skeptical about God’s existence. My plan was to stay only briefly and then leave—I never expected I would end up staying for six months. The journey was challenging; I tried to remain dedicated, following the obedience, attending the services regularly… and unexpectedly, just when I was on the verge of losing all hope in God’s existence, something happened at one of the services that is beyond words. I felt something not of this world, an experience no drug had ever given me. It was a sort of joyful sorrow, a sensation that brought peace and hope that everything in my life would finally fall into place. It lasted only a few seconds, but afterward, as I sat lost in thought and excitement, I eagerly awaited the moment to tell the Father about my experience.
When the time came, I tried to describe this profound experience, still overwhelmed by what I felt. The Father responded, “Now, my child, that God has touched your heart, do not betray Him. Stay to the end, be an example, and help save other young people.” After that, I was left in amazement, telling myself, “God exists!” My thoughts were consumed with Him, but I could not form any image of God in my mind. Indeed, how could anyone imagine this eternal, incomprehensible Being?
As I continued to reflect, I realized that after 30 years, my heart had found what it was searching for, right here in God’s house. Over time, my craving for drugs faded away, and not only did I begin to believe, but I also started to feel God’s presence actively working within me. For every effort I made, I was rewarded, and for every mistake, I was corrected. Time passed, and the greatest Christian holiday, the Resurrection of Christ—Easter, drew near. Despite the busyness, the atmosphere in the monastery was beautiful, and everyone’s joy was unmistakable. The services of Holy Week, the week of Christ’s Passion, were extraordinary and only strengthened my faith. As Holy Week passed, the night before Easter arrived, and I marveled at the scene—people of all ages walking together towards God’s house. I reflected, thinking, “The world would be a much happier place if we could all hold onto the spirit of Easter throughout our lives.”
When midnight arrived, everyone, whether they knew each other or not, greeted one another with, “Christ is Risen!” In those moments, I truly believed I was on the right path, that I would be healed, and that all the pain would one day vanish.
After six months in the monastery, through God’s help and the prayers of my spiritual father, Father Parthenius, I am now ready to continue my life, striving to be a good Christian—and thereby a good son, brother, grandson, and friend. I am prepared to face all the consequences and to remain at the service of those I have hurt most for the rest of my life. The most crucial lesson I’ve learned over these six months is that we, as humans, are deeply imperfect, and without God, we are powerless. Although many of us deny His existence, He is everywhere, waiting for us to cast off our pride, repent, and acknowledge our dependence on Him.
We must recognize that every success is thanks to Him, and every failure is a result of our own free will—the gift He has given us—by which we distance ourselves from Him. We must strive to live rightly and place our hope in God. In doing so, we will find greater happiness, for everything is fleeting, but ONLY GOD IS ETERNAL!
September 1, 2016, the Year of Our Lord
Bigorski Monastery
Note: This text is published in full, unedited, at the request of the author, who wished to leave this writing as an example and a lesson for others.
