thesolbergs.family

I’ve had the chance to chat with some friends lately—both ex-Catholics and ex-Protestants—many of whom have moved to evangelical denominations and churches, particularly within Baptist or Pentecostal movements. Being a priest, I’m often called upon in these conversations to explain certain aspects of theology. Not that I’m particularly good at it, but I’m the priest

The Gospel gives us a challenging but deeply important reminder: We must live in the present — in the presence of God. The most important part of your future is how you live with God right now. There was a study that found we spend 47% of our waking hours thinking about something other than

I’ve spent some time traveling through secularized Western Europe, spending time with friends, family, and acquaintances who don’t follow the Christian faith. And I’ve noticed something. Many will say things like, “We don’t need church. We already know we’re supposed to love our neighbor. That’s just common sense. We’re good people, and we fight for

We all want flourishing churches and active, healthy clergy. But sometimes we forget that this doesn’t just happen on its own. It takes real work, support, and investment from the entire community. Recently, a young priest, Fr. Matteo from Italy, tragically took his own life. Sadly, this is not an isolated event. The mental and

There’s a long-standing argument in the Church: some say true prayer comes only from the heart, without scripts or set words. But the people of God have always had a liturgy. In Judaism, prayer has never been a free-for-all. It is ordered: blessings in the morning, Psalms through the day, prayers for rising, sleeping, eating,

“He placed the relic on me…” After that early morning spiritual conversation, I went to Holy Communion. Then came breakfast—eggplants, fresh bread, melons, and rose wine. Afterwards, I waited outside the refectory for the Abbot’s blessing, standing near the line of monks coming out from their meal. Suddenly, a hand tapped my shoulder. It was

“If You want me to confess, send someone now…” After evening prayers, we were given a tour of the monastery by a young monk—from Atlanta, Georgia, of all places. He showed us the monastery’s wonder-working icons and spoke with reverence and warmth. Afterward, I asked him if I could go to confession. He said, “Not

“Three unshowered men under the Greek sun…” It was unbearably hot. We still hadn’t showered. So we left the windows and the door wide open through the night. Around 4 a.m., a monk walked through the courtyard beating a wooden plank with a mallet—the semantron—calling all to prayer. After falling back to sleep, we finally