For over a decade, I devoted my life to advertising and public relations. But a few years ago, I decided to make a drastic career change. I began to ponder, "To choose a new direction, what am I actually good at? What have I learned over these years?"

Suddenly, it struck me: "I'm pretty good at communicating with people. Friends often said they found solace in my words. I can offer support, and I can also talk about faith. Perhaps I'll become a psychologist. A Orthodox one! As soon as I qualify, I'll help people, earn money, and do what I love."

The next day, I applied to a commercial institute. I chose what seemed to be a trendy and modern field: Gestalt therapy.

Most of my classmates turned out to be non-believers. In our first session, we paired up and took turns portraying either the client or the therapist, discussing real-life situations.

A girl shared her story about complex relationships with her mother and family in general. To me, her words seemed filled with judgment, cursing, and irritation. So, I allowed myself to comment on her situation from the perspective of commandments and the Orthodox way of life.

But she abruptly cut me off: "Listen! Don't be so preachy! I'm telling you my family traumas, and you're talking to me about some church and confession. Why should I care about that?"

I fell silent, feeling hurt and irritated inside. That's when I faced my first strong disappointment. They didn’t want to listen to me.

My illusion that being a psychologist meant simply talking to people, quoting smart books, and suggesting repentance shattered instantly. It turned out that neither God nor repentance interested my peers. And in turn, I didn't want to listen to them, suffering from the lack of mutual understanding.

After a year, I left that institution. Yet, I still found myself bitterly recalling our sessions. I went to talk about it with a priest, to share my experiences.

"Father, what's wrong with people? They don't want to live by the commandments at all. They constantly interrupt my talks about God. I don't want to work with such people," I complained.

"It's not about people or their faith," the priest replied. "When we speak about God but don’t live accordingly, why should anyone understand or listen to us? The best sermon is living a Christian life. So that people themselves want to ask about Him."

With completely different thoughts, I left the church. Indeed, it wasn't about God or people. It was about me and my attitude towards them. Perhaps what hurt me most was the principle that they didn't listen to me, that I wasn't an authority for them. And I became hardened myself.

Christ spoke of love, the apostles of patience, and how much effort the holy fathers dedicated to the theme of mercy. These three important virtues became my focus for self-improvement. From that moment on, I became more attentive to my soul and more tolerant towards people. These are the small steps on the path to a greater correction.

Original article: https://radiovera.ru/delo-vo-mne-svetlana-bakulina.html