St. John Chrysostom once said, “Do not speak only about religion, but speak of everything in a Christian way”. This line speaks volumes, and when I first read it, I thought “That’s it!”.
This embodies what it means to practice one’s religion. As the Catholic Catechism explains, “Religion consists of knowledge of God and a life corresponding to the will of God. Religion is not a matter of feeling; it is a matter of the will and of action, and consists of the following principles that God has laid down.”
For example, as a Catholic, I can attend daily Mass, receive the sacraments, and fulfill my vocation as both a therapist and a mother. Still, without acting out God’s will by serving God through deeds, I can not call myself religious. I am sure most of us can think of family or acquaintances who model this behaviour.
Centuries later, Blessed Giacomo Alberione, founder of the Daughters of St. Paul, repeated those same words to the first women who joined his mission to spread the Gospel through the media.
The message above captures how I strive to live and how I hope clients can learn to live, not by preaching or proving that one is right and the other is wrong, but through presence—by the way we speak, act, and respond. I’ve never wanted to sound religious, and there is a part of me that even dislikes the word ‘religious’, mainly when used in contexts like ‘Oh, her, yes, she is so religious’. 😳
I prefer others to see faith in how I navigate the world, how I cope with both joy and disappointment, and how I continually turn to God, in both joy and sadness.
Recently, I listened to the Daughters of St. Paul speak about their love for the works of J.R.R. Tolkien. They described how his writing reflects the Christian story without ever naming it. Tolkien didn’t need to quote Scripture; he wrote the truth into his characters and their choices. Frodo’s quiet endurance, Sam’s loyalty, and Galadriel’s light each mirror aspects of Christ, Mary, and the Gospel lived out through ordinary people facing extraordinary circumstances.
That’s what Alberione meant. You don’t have to “talk about religion” to speak in a Christian way. You just have to live with Christ at the center, and it will come through in everything you do — even in how you listen, how you work, and how you suffer.
In my practice, I’ve noticed how often people want to change the people around them or control what happens in their lives.
I’ve done the same. But faith has taught me that we can’t. God decides what changes and when. We are not negotiating with Him when we choose to live in a Christian way. We do it because it changes us. It softens the edges of pride, strengthens patience, and invites peace where there used to be control.
And this brings me to the question that so many agnostics and atheists raise — if there is a loving God, why does suffering exist? I understand that question; I’ve asked it many times myself. But over time, I’ve come to see that suffering is woven into every form of growth we experience. When we stress our muscles, it hurts. But given rest, they repair and become stronger. A similar phenomenon occurs in nature: forests regenerate after a fire, and soils recover after a drought. Even fasting, which feels like deprivation, teaches the body to heal.
So why would the soul be any different?
For me, one of the clearest reasons God allows suffering is that it draws us back to Him. When life runs smoothly, we tend to forget the One who keeps it steady. When life becomes uncertain, we remember how much we depend on Him. “The spirit is willing, but the flesh is weak,” Jesus said. Suffering reveals that truth.
Tolkien understood this. Frodo didn’t choose his burden, and he didn’t always carry it gracefully. He stumbled, he doubted, he grew tired. Yet through that slow, painful journey, he was transformed. That’s how it works for all of us. The very experiences we wish away are often the ones shaping our souls the most.
I used to hesitate calling myself a Catholic psychotherapist. I worried about how people might perceive me — that they’d think I suddenly “became religious”. But really, I’m just learning, little by little, to live my faith more openly. I attend daily Mass when I can, not to prove anything, but because I want to know Christ better. I want to walk alongside Him, like Mary did, rarely understanding, but always, always, trusting.
And that is what I want for my clients as well: to live in a way that reflects what is good, even when they can’t see the outcome. To stop trying to fix everything around them and instead let God work quietly within them.
Our time on earth is short compared to Eternal life. I can handle the ebbs and flows, the seasons that come and go. I celebrate what is given, and accept what is not. I don’t try to change people anymore, only myself, and even that, only with His help.
That is my view of what it means to live a Christian way.