As a convert to the Orthodox faith, and having been raised in the Evangelical church, my views on icons have evolved over the years.
When I first started attending an Orthodox church, I loved how the icons transported me into another world when I entered the building, but I was skeptical of the way the church spoke about the icons. In the evangelical church you will find a gray- or white-walled sanctuary because the focus is on the stage. That felt familiar, and therefore, it was the most comfortable for me.
When I converted to Orthodoxy in 2017, I embraced most of the views of the church–but still felt myself dancing around the ideas of icons. At my baptism into the church, I was gifted with many beautiful icons and felt unsure of their prevalence in my own life. I am married to an Orthodox convert, and my husband already had an icon corner in our home. I loved the visual reminders and glimpses into the lives of the Saints, but I still wasn’t sure how their presence was supposed to intertwine with my own life in the present times. I would still venerate the icons in church, but it was mostly out of respect and had little to do with my actual connection with them. I’m also willing to admit that as a heavily tattooed person in the church, I wanted to make sure the older Orthodox members didn’t feel I wasn’t taking my faith seriously (I’m an overthinker when it comes to these things). This song and dance continued in my life until 2022, when my encounter with one Icon changed my views entirely.
In 2020/2021, I was in a lot of physical pain. My abdomen was swollen, and I resorted to wearing overalls because anything pressing on it caused even more discomfort. Blood tests continued to come back normal. Food elimination diets didn’t help. Probiotics, prebiotics, and every detox I found Google weren’t helping. I had doctors misdiagnose me. I had doctors downplay my symptoms to “female problems,” which is the vaguest journey you can send a woman on. These tests, diets, and detoxes felt like they were taking over my life. This all continued on into 2022. I was training for a marathon, so I finally told myself it must be from the training I was putting my body through, so I blamed my body. I fought my body. I hated my body.
After completing the marathon and finding myself in more pain than I can remember, I found myself at a new OBGYN for my annual pap. My new OBGYN listened to me as I lamented about the pain in my abdomen and suggested we do an ultrasound because of my family history with ovarian/uterine cancer. As it turns out, I had two fibroids the size of lemons on my uterus, and they were so large that they were pushing on my other organs–which also caused a laundry list of other issues. After a lot of discussion about the best medical options for me, they scheduled me for a hysterectomy two weeks after finding the fibroids. I was feeling so anxious when they sent biopsies over to be tested for cancer.
What I failed to mention earlier is my mother had had a hysterectomy only three months before I had mine. Her diagnosis was precancerous, and we were so thankful it was caught early. While my mom was having her surgery, I was several states away wishing I could be there to help her. My husband wanted to do something nice for me, so he printed out an icon of Mary (my mother’s name is Mary), the Pantanassa icon, which is associated with miraculous healings of cancer, and he transferred the image to some wood he had painted. When the Mod Podge dried, he went to get the icon and saw that there was now a white band that went across Mary’s abdomen (it had not looked like that when he printed the image).
When my husband handed me the icon, he said, “I know it isn’t perfect, but isn’t it amazing that the part that is wiped away is the same spot your mom is having surgery?” I was so comforted by that icon at that moment.
Fast forward three months, and I found myself in the same spot and feeling the same fear. I kept going back to that Icon of Mary and praying for her intercession. Praying that my pain would also be wiped away. I felt so much peace from that icon and felt God's hand on the entire situation. I am thankful to report that I was cancer-free, and the surgery went smoothly. I’m no longer experiencing abdominal pain, and I’m slowly learning to embrace my body instead of hating it.
That homemade icon carried me through a very dark time in my life. I find myself gravitating towards it when the Sunday of Orthodoxy comes around and proudly carry it during the procession. Since that time, I have found myself engaging with icons with a childlike faith. I’ve come to accept that I can embrace the mysticism and the awe-inspiring reminders of the lives that have come before me. To find joy in the faith I have grown in and the balance that comes with learning that I don’t have to know all the answers. My icon encounter was unexpected in many ways, and I’m thankful for her daily reminder of God's faithfulness.
Molly Burke calls herself an (unorthodox) Orthodox convert. She is a trauma-informed yoga instructor, cute coffee connoisseur, helicopter dog-mom, and wife of a music teacher. She is currently working as a Lead Rape Crisis Advocate & Prevention Educator for a local nonprofit in Western New York, but she is originally a former circus employee from the Chicagoland area. Her free time is spent chasing joy through travel, dance, embroidery, and Disney trips.
