humility

Docile, Not Diversified

A single pearl resting in an open, sunlit palm, symbolizing surrender and trust in God

What debt, unemployment, and daily discernment taught me about being dependent on God, not just adjacent to Him

If you’ve spent any time online, you know the checklist. Roth IRA, maxed. Six months of expenses in a high-yield savings account. A diversified brokerage. No credit card balance carried month to month. Every finance influencer is selling some version of this profile as the definition of a responsible adult, and if you’re a young Catholic professional, it’s easy to quietly measure your spiritual life by the same rubric — faithful giving as a line item, Mass attendance as a checkbox, gratitude as something you’ll feel once the numbers finally work.

This article isn’t for the person who has that checklist finished. It’s for everyone else. If you’re carrying debt you can’t see the bottom of, if your savings are gone and your emergency fund is a memory, if you’ve been out of work longer than you told people, if your health has cost you both money and momentum — I want to tell you something that took me a long time to believe: you may already be living the exact thing the checklist can’t teach.

What I Actually Lived

I’ve been through a stretch of real health problems, extended unemployment, and a period where homelessness wasn’t an abstract fear but a real possibility. Credit debt piled up. Savings ran out completely, with no reserve behind them. There was no six-month cushion. There was, some weeks, no cushion at all.

What I found in that place wasn’t a hack or a five-step plan. It was daily dependence, and I mean that literally. I couldn’t plan three moves ahead because I often didn’t have the information, the money, or the certainty to do it. What I had was prayer — asking, most mornings, for enough clarity to see the next single step, and trusting that the Holy Spirit would show up in time for that step and not necessarily any sooner. I write about faith and money less for what it’s earned me and more for what I found in that season worth passing on: a faith-abundant life doesn’t require your finances to cooperate first. Gratitude showed up before the numbers did, not after.

Rereading “To Anyone Who Has, More Will Be Given”

A homily on Matthew 13 named something I recognized instantly: “we could be religious churchgoers but not docile to God.” The warning usually gets aimed at people who look financially secure and spiritually comfortable. But flip it around, and it says something else too — the “having” that gets multiplied in that verse was never about your account balance. “To anyone who has, more will be given. He will grow rich. Anyone who has not, even what he has will be taken away” (Matthew 13:12) is describing docility, not net worth. If you’ve been forced by circumstance into daily, undeniable dependence on God, you are not behind. You may be exactly where that verse says gets more.

Docility is usually pictured as a beautiful, freely chosen surrender — Mary at the Annunciation, saying “let it be done unto me according to your word” (Luke 1:38) before she understood any of the plan. Nobody forced that fiat on her. But surrender doesn’t stop counting just because it wasn’t your first choice. When life sells everything out from under you — a diagnosis, a layoff, a debt spiral — and there’s nothing left to hold onto but trust, that is still docility. Maybe closer to it than most of us who get to choose our surrender in comfortable, low-stakes moments ever come.

The Purse That Was Already Empty

“Sell your possessions, and give alms; provide yourselves with purses that do not grow old, with a treasure in the heavens that does not fail” (Luke 12:33) is usually preached to people who have something to sell. If your earthly purse is already empty, you didn’t need the instruction — you’re already living past it, whether you meant to or not. The treasure that doesn’t fail isn’t a reward for the financially disciplined. It’s simply what’s left when everything else has been taken, and it turns out to be enough.

“See that you abound in this gracious work also” (2 Corinthians 8:7) doesn’t require a bank account either. If you’ve ever stayed up with someone in a worse spot than you, shared a meal you couldn’t really spare, or written something honest to help a stranger feel less alone in their own financial fear — that is the gracious work Paul is describing. It was never gated behind income.

And “he who is faithful in a very little is faithful also in much” (Luke 16:10-11) reads differently from where you’re standing. It’s not a verse about scaling up from a small salary to a large one. It’s an honor given to whoever manages real scarcity with real integrity — the person who pays what they can, tells the truth about what they can’t, and keeps showing up to the discernment even when the numbers are bad. That faithfulness is the whole point of the verse, not a stepping stone to something more respectable.

The Pearl You Didn’t Choose to Sell Everything For

The merchant in Matthew 13:44-46 sold everything he had for one pearl of great price — a deliberate, chosen trade. Most of us in financial crisis didn’t get to choose the sale. Life took the possessions first and left the pearl — trust in Christ — as the only thing remaining. That’s not a lesser version of the parable. It might be the truest ending of it: everything else gone, one thing left, and it turns out to be enough to build a life on.

Wherever You Are Right Now, This Still Applies

You don’t need a spreadsheet to practice this. Tomorrow morning, before you check a balance or open a bill, ask one question instead of making one plan: not “what do I need to fix today,” but “what is Jesus asking me to trust Him with today.” That’s the whole practice. It won’t clear your debt or fill your account. But it’s the difference between being adjacent to Christ — showing up, checking boxes, staying nearby — and being dependent on Him, which is what docility actually is. The checklist can wait. This can’t.

What It Means to Let God’s Word Take Root

Woman touching the blue coat of a performer while a crowd watches on a cobblestone street

Start with the Word

Before you dive into this reflection, you might want to spend a few quiet minutes with these passages:

  • Parable of the Sower: Matthew 13:1–9, 18–23
  • The hemorrhaging woman: Mark 5:25–34 (also Matthew 9:20–22; Luke 8:43–48)
  • The centurion and his servant: Matthew 8:5–13 (also Luke 7:1–10)

Let them sink in. Notice what stirs, comforts, or challenges you. Then come back and we’ll walk through them together.

Good soil looks like real people

In the parable of the sower, Jesus tells this simple, earthy story about a farmer, some seed, and four kinds of ground—hard path, rocky soil, thorny soil, and good soil. Only one of them lets the seed really sink in and produce a harvest.

At Mass, Father Kwame put it plainly: “The soil is our hearts. The seed is Jesus, coming to us in the Word.” Every time the gospel is proclaimed, the Lord is sowing himself into our lives—into your life. And if that seed finds good soil, it doesn’t just sit there. It grows. It produces the fruits of the Holy Spirit that other people can actually see and taste.

What I love is that Jesus doesn’t leave this at the level of theory. In the hemorrhaging woman and the centurion, we get to see what “good soil” looks like with a face and a name (or in her case, a story, even if we never learn her name). Both of them have every reason to shut down. Both of them, in their own way, open their hearts and give Jesus permission to take root.

The hemorrhaging woman: when love, joy, and peace break through

Think of the hemorrhaging woman. Twelve years of suffering. Twelve years of doctors and disappointment. Twelve years of being considered “unclean,” kept at arm’s length from worship and community. If anyone’s heart could have turned into hard-packed path or thorn-choked ground, it’s hers.

But what does she do? She pushes through the crowd, quietly, almost secretly, and reaches out for Jesus, believing that just touching his cloak is enough. That’s good soil right there—not because she feels strong, but because she refuses to let shame, fear, or exhaustion have the last word. She lets faith crack the surface of the soil.

When Jesus turns and calls her “Daughter,” when he says, “Your faith has made you well. Go in peace,” something beautiful shows up above the surface. Love appears in her willingness to step forward and tell her story. Joy begins to replace the long years of humiliation. Peace settles over her future because she’s heard the Lord’s verdict on her life. These are the fruits of the Holy Spirit in real time—signs that Jesus’ word has taken root in the deepest, most wounded places of her heart.

The centurion: generosity, courage, and deep trust

Now look at the centurion. He’s a Roman officer, a man with rank and power. He could have stayed in his own world and handled things his own way. Instead, he crosses religious and cultural lines and comes to Jesus on behalf of a suffering servant. That’s already a hint of generosity: his heart is moved for someone who, in that culture, was easy to overlook.

Then comes that line we know so well from Mass: “Lord, I am not worthy to have you enter under my roof; only say the word and my servant will be healed.” It’s humble, yes, but it’s also brave. He’s basically staking his reputation—and his servant’s life—on the power of Jesus’ word alone. He’s saying, “I know how authority works; I believe your authority is that strong. You don’t even have to come to my house. Just speak.”[en.wikipedia][youtube]

That is rocky ground turning into good soil. Instead of letting fear or pride scorch the seed, he lets faith sink down into how he understands the world. He trusts that Jesus’ word carries more weight than his own rank, more power than distance, more hope than his own ability to control things.

And again, look at the fruit. His servant is healed. But beyond that, his faith becomes a sign for everyone watching—Jesus even says he hasn’t found such faith in Israel. The centurion’s trust, his generosity toward his servant, his courage in approaching Jesus, are all fruits growing from the seed of the Word planted in good, humble soil.[youtube]

What happens when we let God take root

Father Kwame said it clearly: when Jesus’ word finds a home in us, it should produce fruits—love, joy, peace, generosity, courage, and more. These aren’t just nice words on a confirmation banner. They’re the “harvest” that shows what kind of soil we really are.

We see it in these two:

  • In the woman, love looks like drawing near to God instead of hiding, even when she’s afraid. Joy and peace flow from hearing Jesus speak directly into her shame and suffering.
  • In the centurion, generosity looks like using his position to care for someone vulnerable. Courage looks like trusting Jesus’ word more than his own plans or expectations.[catholicsstrivingforholiness][youtube]

If we let Jesus take root in our own hearts—if we stop treating his word as background noise and start giving it space and time—those same fruits begin to grow in us. Not perfectly. Not all at once. But really.

Love might look like choosing patience instead of sarcasm with a family member. Joy might look like a quiet gratitude in the middle of a hard day. Peace might look like a refusal to spiral into anxiety when the news is bad or the bills are high. Generosity might mean giving our time, attention, or talent where it costs us something. Courage might look like admitting our weakness and asking for help—whether from God or from others.[lovedweller]

That’s what happens when we stop guarding the soil and start letting the Gardener work.

Letting someone “taste the pudding”

Father Kwame gave us a great image: “The proof of the pudding is in the eating.” You can’t tell if a pudding is any good by staring at it on the table. You have to taste it. In the same way, people can’t really tell if we have deep faith just by seeing us at Mass once a week. They learn it when they live with us, work with us, bump into us on our worst days and our tired mornings.

As you move into tonight’s examen, try sitting with this simple, honest question:

If someone close to me—my spouse, my kids, a coworker, a friend—were to “taste my pudding” this week, what would they find? Would they taste love, joy, peace, generosity, courage—the fruits that grow when Jesus’ word really has space in my heart? Or would they run into impatience, harsh words, constant worry, resentment, or indifference?[gcdiscipleship]

Don’t answer that to beat yourself up. Answer it to let the Lord show you where the soil is good, and where it needs tilling. Then, like the hemorrhaging woman and the centurion, you can bring that soil to Him and simply say:

“Lord, I am not worthy… but only say the word.”

And trust that His word can take root and grow, right there, in the very real ground of your life.

The Prayer of Jabez – Revisited

Read a review and a new perspective on the book “The Prayer of Jabez”. I too feel uneasy with the unbalanced nature of the book’s suggestions. It (the book and its testimonials) seems to indicate that faith is fueled by constant challenges to God to fulfill one’s prayers based on rote prayer and formula. It also inflates expectations that these prayers will always be positively answered… In truth we cannot even begin to assume an understanding of God’s wisdom nor can we expect Him to respond to prayers in the same way that a “genie” in a bottle grants wishes to passerby.

“Wilkinson (the author of The Prayer of Jabez) asserts that praying Jabez’s prayer leads to a life of incredible blessing and ever-increasing ministry opportunities-a life that sounds almost like a fairy-tale. However, little reference is ever made to the reality of genuine difficulties in life, and the necessity of sincere prayer to face those difficulties in a God-honoring way.” I think the review article raises a good point in that ministry for God is rarely a 123-formula approach to success…  there are hardships and also setbacks because it is not the will or the might of the person that answers prayers… but the will and grace of God Himself.

I appreciated the commentary that: Scripture, however, points to the importance of learning to live a life fixed on pleasing God in all the little details in life-attitudes, thoughts, words, and behavior. In the “mundane” aspects of life, God is also there.

There are basic tenets of the Prayer of Jabez that I do see as useful: the demonstration of humility, dependence and expectation of blessing are all good things to model in one’s prayer and pursuit of worship. Overall, good lessons are to be learned from Jabez’s shortly documented, but meaningful life story. Continue to pray for God’s blessings. May all of you find balance in things that you do and the life that you have chosen to pursue.

Where Does Prayer Fit In?

We’ve been reflecting on prayer a lot lately in this blog, and I thought it to be an apt point to ponder. Why so much emphasis on prayer? Why do we pray? Doesen’t God know what we need before we even realize it enough to ask for it? The answer lies in the principles of humility. Until we are able to approach God, broken and helpless, we are simply deluding ourselves. Our everyday needs, our worries and our problems should all be given over to the hands of the Lord – everything is provided for by God and it is point to humble ourselves enough to realize that.

When we settle down each evening at the dinner table for our meal, do we dive in and eat hungrily, self assured that our hard labor has earned us our nourishment? And how do you suppose you got your job? What is the nature of your employment and the daily factors affecting it? It is too often that we allow the “ego” to rule our minds and our hearts. “I” worked hard. “I” earned my salary. “I” bought this food… the truth is, YOU didn’t do anything by yourself. It is the Lord that has provided for you; a point of humility… and thankfulness is the reason why prayer is appropriate at mealtime.

A recent blog article I read regarding the power of prayer raised an observation I think is common amongst many of us. The writer talked about how he realized that while trying to help a friend in trouble he ran through his mind all the things he could do to help… and only when he had no alternative left, he offered a prayer as the last resort. If prayer is so important, he argues, why did he save it for last? The answer to that is the mindset. Again, the “ego” comes into play – we may think that we are the “masters” of our destinies or at least the one in control for the many problems we encounter in our life… but that really isn’t the case. God is still behind the scenes running the show.

If I were in a similar situation, I would consider praying first. Ask God with humility for guidance and ask Him: “What would you have me do, Lord? Please help me help others… and when I cannot find the answer, please guide me to what is your will…” It is different when we look to God for guidance in the things that we do. In the action, we surrender ourselves and our needs to the hands of one who knows infinitely more about our destinies and what is best for our well being.

On the other hand, there is a difference between asking for help, then sitting back and doing nothing. With prayer there is also action. But it helps to put our minds in a prayerful state, humble and helpless, surrendering ourselves with the knowledge that it isn’t our individual efforts (as our big ego would like us to believe) that drives our destinies… but the providence and grace of God at work in our lives.