The Candle That Still Burns
- Bishop Mesrop Parsamyan
- Apr 25
- 2 min read
My grandfather, Zhirayr Parsamyan, was a survivor of the Armenian Genocide. He lost his father during those dark days, and with his mother and two brothers, he found refuge in Thessaloniki. Life there was not easy. They lived with hardship, poverty, and the pain of being uprooted from their homeland.
Then, in 1935, he made his way to Eastern Armenia. And do you know what he did first? He went to Holy Etchmiadzin, the Mother Cathedral of All Armenians, he lit a candle and offered his prayer to God.
I keep thinking about that candle. Here was a man who had lost so much, who had known exile, poverty, and pain, and still he walked into the house of God. He still lit a candle. He still prayed. How can someone pass through so much suffering and still hold on to faith?
I believe the answer is this: Because true faith is rooted deeper than suffering can reach. The love of God is greater than anything this world can take away.
Saint Paul asks a powerful question: “Who will separate us from the love of Christ?” Will hardship, distress, persecution, famine, danger, or sword? And then he gives the answer: nothing. Nothing can separate us from the love of God in Christ Jesus our Lord (Romans 8:35-39).
That was the love of our martyrs. That was the faith of our survivors. They passed through darkness, but they did not let the darkness put out the light of Christ within them.
There are seasons in life when challenges feel heavy. There are days when the road is long and the future feels uncertain. In those times, I say to myself: I am the grandson of a Genocide survivor, a man who lost so much but kept his faith.
When you remember where you come from, you begin to remember Who has carried you. You begin to see that the same God who sustained your fathers and mothers is sustaining you today.
Friends, my grandfather’s candle still burns. It burns in my heart. It burns in my ministry. It burns every time I stand at the altar. It burns every time I remember that I am here today because someone before me believed through tears and loved God with all his heart.
My parents were also survivors of the genocide. Many years ago, we recorded their story on tape. My mother was only 5 years old, but she remembered everything. It is unbelievable what they went through and that they never lost hope. My mother told me that she was a child in a line for bread with my grandmother. As they stood there my grandmother looked a the other hungry children near by. Although they only had a piece of bread, my grandmother broke it and gave some to the other children. When my mother asked her why she was giving away the little food they had, she told her "We are not dying yet, maybe if we help t…
"Because true faith is rooted deeper than suffering can reach" - great insight.