“Why do you go to church? What do you find there?” friends would ask in my early days of becoming a regular churchgoer. I’d try to explain, to them and myself, but it would come out long-winded and unclear. One day, though, I answered simply, “I’m at home in church.”

I used to host a Friday slot on Yekaterinburg’s city radio. Strangely enough, in the nineties, the station would close for the weekend, so Friday evenings were reserved for topics unrelated to politics or economics. I invited teachers, philosophers, artists, and musicians to speak—anyone who could focus on life beyond day-to-day needs and worries. Unfortunately, I also unknowingly gave airtime to voices from various sects flooding the country back then. I later repented for this; at the time, I truly didn’t know what I was doing.

But here’s the thing: when I’d attend one of these groups’ gatherings to prepare a radio program, listen to their speeches, or observe their rituals, I’d quickly feel uneasy. It wasn’t a judgment against them—I respected the people I interviewed—but I sensed I didn’t belong there.

Then, one day, feeling particularly down, I walked into the Ascension Church in the city center. The church had just reopened after years of persecution, and I didn’t know what to do or how to behave. I didn’t understand what the people around me were doing, just standing quietly, some holding candles. I didn’t recognize the language in the hymns. But a deep peace washed over me, a feeling of complete, tranquil happiness that brought tears to my eyes. I stayed near the entrance, not wanting to go any closer. I later realized I’d walked in during a service. I didn’t understand anything—except that I was home.

Years have passed since then, and of course, there have been difficult moments in church. Older women would scold me for wearing jeans when I had no skirt. Once, I even fainted from the heat in a long line for confession during Lent. There are other, similar memories, but do they matter? They’re trivial next to the greater truth: I’m home.

Both the church building and the Church—the community of those who believe in Christ—are my home. The sense of protection, the feeling of being enfolded in the Father’s love, is something I’ve found nowhere else.

From the radio program "Private Opinion" on Radio Vera: zdes-ja-doma-natalja-razuvakina.html