This morning, I decided to spend some quiet time in my office with two homilies that have been sitting with me since Sunday. One was from Bishop Robert Barron, the other from Fr. Peter Choi at the televised Mass from Pickering, Ontario. Both spoke on faith and trust, yet each from a slightly different lens.
As I listened, I found myself writing, not because I wanted to teach, but because I needed to absorb what I heard. Writing helps me hold onto truths that might otherwise slip away once the day becomes busy. Are you the same way? Or does your right-sided brain begin to speak? Paint? Draw? Sing? We all have different ways of dismantling our thoughts in order to gain clarity.
So now I write…
Bishop Barron reminded me that faith is not a weak acceptance of things we cannot prove. It is not superstition, passive in its approach, or wishful thinking. In his words, faith is a trusting surrender to God’s vision, God’s plan, and God’s purpose. In surrendering, it rarely makes us feel good, but faith is trusting that the whole story is still being written.
Fr. Choi added to this in a way that touched me even further, and if I am honest, explains why I likely still lack in faith. He said faith is not fully grown from the start. It has to be cared for, attended to, and nourished, much like a delicate plant or a work of art in its formation. He also reminded us that faith works best when it is joined with love. We need to love the plant, the painting, or the notes on paper. Faith makes all things possible, he said, but love makes it easier.
Those words stayed with me long after I stopped listening.
They reminded me that faith is not an idea to grasp, but a way of living that asks for both quietude and action. I thought of the story of Mary and Martha, the two sisters who welcomed Jesus into their home. Mary sat at His feet, listening quietly. Martha moved around the house, preparing, serving, and making things ready.
It is easy to take sides with one or the other. Some of us feel closer to Mary, drawn to silence, reflection, and prayer. Others identify with Martha, the doers who bring love into motion. I think nowadays, there are too many doers and not enough who pause. But both are faithful in their own way. Jesus did not dismiss Martha’s work; He simply reminded her that her worry was unnecessary. He wanted her to serve from a place of peace, not pressure.
In my work in couples therapy and marriage counselling, I often see this same tension between being and doing — between prayer and action. One partner may live like Mary, seeking reflection and connection, while the other moves like Martha, focused on serving and providing. Both roles are necessary in a healthy relationship.
Today, I feel closer to Mary. Sitting here, reflecting on these messages, I can sense how much I need this slower way of being.
Yet I also know that I must eventually return to my Martha side — to love through action, to serve, to give. Faith without love becomes dry, and love without faith loses direction. I plan to do this by cooking a meal for my family, regardless of whether I like them today 🙂 and being a listening ear if someone needs it.
The more I reflect on these homilies, the more I see that trust is not something we earn. It is given, and we either open ourselves to it or we don’t. To trust God means to stop bargaining, to stop trying to predict outcomes, to stop assuming we know what is best. The hardest part is letting go of that small, controlling voice inside that insists it can see the full picture. We cannot.
Faith asks us to move from our heads into our hearts, to wait without demanding, and to surrender without fear. It is not passive; it is peaceful. When we live in that space, the ego softens, and we can finally rest in the knowledge that God knows what we do not.
As a Christian therapist and Gottman-trained counsellor, I’ve seen how faith and love transform relationships. Whether it’s premarital counselling or relationship therapy, the most lasting change happens when couples learn to trust God’s timing and let go of the need to control.
I don’t keep a journal because in many ways, these posts are my journal. They are my way of processing what I hear, what I learn, and what I continue to misunderstand. I hope that, if you are reading this, you find something here that helps you breathe a little easier, trust a little deeper, and wait a little longer.
Maybe today you are more like Mary, sitting quietly and trying to make sense of life. Or maybe you are Martha, ready to serve but tired from the weight of it all. Either way, keep both close to your heart. Sit when you need to listen. Move when you need to love. Both are acts of faith.