A Reflection on Faith, Trust, and God’s Work Through Us

Sometimes the smallest light carries the greatest faith.

I don’t know how I missed him all these years.

In all my time going to Mass, I can’t recall ever hearing a reading from Habakkuk. And yet, here he was in this week’s first reading, speaking with a voice that felt surprisingly familiar. His words weren’t lofty or distant. They were honest. Human. He talked to God like an old friend.

He didn’t hold back. He asked, “How long, Lord, must I cry for help and you do not listen?” (Habakkuk 1:2). You can almost feel his frustration, his weariness with the world around him. And yet, beneath it all, there’s this quiet faith that never lets go.

God answers him with patience and promise: “Write down the vision clearly… the vision still has its time… if it delays, wait for it… the just one, because of his faith, shall live.” (Habakkuk 2:2-4).

Those words stopped me.

Because sometimes faith looks like that. Not loud. Not dramatic. Just steady. Still showing up when you can’t see what God is doing. Still waiting, still trusting, still believing that even in silence, He’s there.

That kind of faith leads right into this week’s Gospel, where Jesus reminds us that faith isn’t about size, but sincerity. “If you have faith the size of a mustard seed, you would say to this mulberry tree, ‘Be uprooted and planted in the sea,’ and it would obey you.” (Luke 17:6).

Then Jesus gives a short parable that changes everything.

He talks about a servant who works all day in the field, then comes in and continues to serve his master without expecting thanks. When he’s done, he doesn’t look for reward. He simply says, “We are unworthy servants; we have done what we were obliged to do.” (Luke 17:10).

That’s the kind of service the Gospel calls us to: selfless, humble, and faithful.

As I reflected on those words, I found myself thinking about a season in my own life when things were very different from how they are now.

There were times when I had to work a second job to make ends meet. Life was hard, and I wasn’t the person I am today. My prayer life was quiet. My faith was distant. I was simply trying to provide for my family the best I could.

One of those jobs was in roadside assistance. Another was driving for a rideshare service. At the time, I didn’t realize that God was showing me something through both.

They started as ways to earn extra income. But somewhere along the way, something shifted. I began to notice how deeply people needed help. The stranded mom with a flat tire. The bartender trying to get home after a late shift. The traveler whose car wouldn’t start at midnight.

As a tow truck driver, I remember working long into the early morning hours, exhausted but unwilling to stop until every call was answered. I couldn’t bear the thought of someone waiting in the dark, wondering if anyone was coming.

Later, as a rideshare driver, I studied the patterns of other drivers and realized that if I started my day at 2 a.m., when most people were ending theirs, I could fill a gap no one else was covering. That’s when the real ministry began, though I didn’t recognize it as one back then.

People would tell me they had been waiting for hours for a car. Some were scared they wouldn’t have a ride to work or the airport. And when I showed up, they were simply grateful that someone cared enough to be there at that hour.

I didn’t think of it as faith. I didn’t think of it as service. I just thought it was the right thing to do, a need that had to be met. But looking back now, through years of prayer and reflection, I can see it clearly. Even during my darkest years, God was there. He was working through me.

Back then, I didn’t know what a Charism was.

For anyone unfamiliar, a Charism is a spiritual gift given by the Holy Spirit, not for our own sake, but to serve others and build up the Body of Christ. Every person has them. Some are gifts of teaching, mercy, encouragement, or wisdom. Mine, I’ve come to learn, is Service.

And that means God was already using me long before I knew the word for it.

He was shaping something holy in me through the simple act of showing up for others. He was quietly teaching me that love doesn’t wait for the perfect moment, the perfect person, or the perfect job. Love shows up when it’s needed most.

That’s what the servant in the Gospel did. That’s what Habakkuk did. And that’s what Jesus calls all of us to do: to serve with faith, even when no one’s watching, even when it costs something.

The world doesn’t often celebrate that kind of service. It rewards the visible, the loud, the measurable. But the Kingdom celebrates the quiet acts that no one sees.

It’s like driving through the night before dawn. You can’t see the sunrise yet, but you know it’s coming. And sometimes, without realizing it, you’re the one carrying a little bit of that light for someone else.

Faith and service go hand in hand. One trusts that God is working, even in silence. The other acts on that trust through love. Together, they build the kind of life that Jesus calls holy, not because of recognition, but because of surrender.

I often wonder how many times I’ve served without realizing I was being led by grace. Maybe you’ve done the same. Maybe you’ve comforted someone, listened without judgment, or worked past exhaustion because someone needed you. Those moments aren’t wasted. They are sacred. They are seeds of faith planted in the dark.

Habakkuk reminds us to wait for God’s vision. Jesus reminds us to work with humility. And somewhere between waiting and working, we find holiness.

Ask yourself this week where God might already be working through you. Maybe it’s in a job that feels ordinary. Maybe it’s in the unseen sacrifices you make for your family, your parish, or your community.

You don’t need recognition to make a difference. You don’t need applause to please God. You only need a willing heart.

Because even in the dark, even in the quiet, He is there, working through you, loving through you, and serving through you.

“The just one, because of his faith, shall live.” (Habakkuk 2:4)