Orthodoxy is not a weapon to wound but a light to guide, and in guarding the faith, we do not build barriers—we keep the road clear for those who seek Christ. —D.

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Words, when used too loosely, lose their weight. They slip from meaning into habit, tossed about like grain on the threshing floor. Heretic is one such word, too often thrown at those who stumble at the edges of belief, those who question, those who do not yet see as we see. But a heretic is not just someone who differs, someone who wrestles with the faith handed down. The word has a shape, a purpose—to mark out, with sorrow rather than scorn, where the teaching of Christ has been twisted into something else. To use it rightly is to guard truth, not to wield it as a stone in the hand.

The Church is not a walled fortress, meant only for the few, but a house built with breadth, with deep foundations. Catholic—not as a common label, but in its truest sense, a faith for all. It is the ark meant to carry every tongue and nation, the feast where all are invited. And so, when we defend what is right, when we hold fast to the teachings that have been passed through trial and fire, we do so not to build barriers, but to keep the road clear for those who come seeking. Orthodoxy is not a weapon; it is a beacon, a steady flame in the wind.

There are dangers, of course. Not every voice that speaks of Christ speaks truly. The world, and sometimes even the well-meaning, bend the gospel into shapes that fit their own longing. And yet, in our vigilance, we must remember that our task is not to drive people away, but to hold high what does not change, what has been given for all who would come to Christ. The purity we guard is not for the sake of a closed circle, but for those yet outside, for those who will one day find their way home and need to know the house stands as it always has.

So we must be careful. We must not fling words like stones, nor make the truth into a weapon to wound. But neither can we let it fray at the edges, softened into something unrecognizable. The faith was given to us as a standard, a light, a gate still open. To guard it is not to bar the way—it is to make sure that when the lost and the seeking arrive, they find it still standing, still certain, still full of the fire of Christ.