Dear Reader,
There comes a point when holding on to what isn’t working starts to cost more than letting go ever would… even if we don’t want to admit it. We tell ourselves we’ll deal with it later, that things might shift, that we just need a little more time… but deep down, we know something is being asked of us. This space exists to help you face those moments with honesty and faith, grounded in the life and teachings of Jesus, so you can move forward with clarity instead of staying stuck in what’s slowly wearing you down. And I need to be honest with you as well… this work only continues because people choose to support it. There’s no institution behind it, no outside funding, just this and the people who believe in it. If this has been helping you, if you’ve found yourself coming back here, I’m asking you to become a paying subscriber and help keep it going… not out of obligation, but because you know it’s worth sustaining.
Can I count on you?
Your Brother on the Path,
The Faith It Takes to Let Go
Trust does not begin when everything is clear. It begins when we choose to release.
Over the past few days, we’ve been walking through something many of us recognize, even if we don’t always speak it aloud.
The sense that something in our life is no longer what it once was.
Not necessarily broken. Not necessarily wrong. But no longer able to hold you in the same way.
If you’ve been following along, there’s a good chance something has already come to mind. A situation you’ve been navigating. A pattern you’ve been repeating. A relationship, a responsibility, or even a way of understanding your faith that feels different now than it did before.
You may not have fully faced it yet.
But you know it’s there.
And once you know, even partially, it becomes harder to go back to pretending everything is the same.
Recognizing that something is shifting is one step.
Letting go of it is another.
And that second step asks more of us than we often expect.
Because letting go rarely arrives with clarity or reassurance. It doesn’t lay out a full path forward. It doesn’t promise that what comes next will be easier or more secure.
It asks you to move without having everything resolved.
And that unsettles something deep within us.
Most of us don’t resist because we lack faith.
We hesitate because we are afraid.
Afraid of choosing wrong.
Afraid of losing something that once mattered.
Afraid that if we release what we know, we may find ourselves with nothing solid to take its place.
That fear is not weakness.
It is part of being human.
And it deserves to be met with compassion, not dismissal.
But fear is not the only thing present.
There is often something else beneath it.
A pull you can’t quite ignore.
A recognition that something has run its course.
A sense that staying where you are will cost you more than moving forward.
It doesn’t come with a detailed explanation.
It simply remains.
And over time, it becomes harder to dismiss.
Scripture does not avoid this inner conflict.
When Abraham is called to leave his homeland, he is not given a map. He is told to go “to the land I will show you.”
That is not clarity.
That is trust.
He is asked to release what is familiar before he understands where he is going.
And that pattern repeats throughout the life of faith.
We see it again in the Gospels.
The rich young ruler approaches Jesus with sincerity. He has lived faithfully, followed the commandments, and yet something in him knows there is more.
When Jesus invites him to release what he is holding, he cannot do it.
Not because he is rejected.
Because he is not ready.
That story stays with us because it reveals something uncomfortable and true.
There are things we can hold onto that keep us from moving forward with God.
Even good things.
Even meaningful things.
Even things that once served us well.
Fr. Richard Rohr speaks about this with clarity in his reflections on the spiritual life, particularly in his work on what it means to let go.
He reminds us that the problem is often not the thing itself, but the way we hold it.
When something becomes an attachment, it begins to take on a weight it was never meant to carry. Our sense of identity, our security, even our understanding of who we are can become tied to something temporary.
And over time, what we hold begins to hold us.
That is where the struggle deepens.
Because attachment narrows our vision. It keeps us focused on preserving what we have, rather than remaining open to what God may be doing next.
And it becomes harder to respond, even when something in us knows the way forward is opening.
This is where things become more honest.
There are times when holding on is not simply caution.
It becomes resistance.
Not loud or defiant. More subtle than that.
The kind that tells you to wait just a little longer. To hold on just a little tighter. To delay what you already understand, even if you haven’t acted on it yet.
Not because you are unwilling to follow God.
But because you are not yet ready to release what feels secure.
And over time, that resistance can keep you from stepping into what is already unfolding before you.
Let me say this clearly.
I’m not telling you to walk away from everything in your life, sell what you own, and go open an agave farm in Arizona.
That’s not how most of us are called to live this out.
More often, what is being asked of us is far less dramatic… and far more personal.
A boundary you know needs to be set.
A pattern you’ve outgrown but continue to carry.
A way of relating that no longer leads toward life.
A version of yourself that you’ve held onto because it once made sense.
The work is not in making a grand gesture.
It is in responding honestly to what you already see.
I have known that place.
There were times when I could see clearly enough what needed to change, and I delayed.
I prayed around it. I told myself I needed more time, more clarity, more certainty.
But underneath all of that, the truth was simple.
I was not yet ready to trust God more than I trusted what I was holding.
Facing that was not comfortable.
But it was the beginning of something freer.
Letting go, in the life of faith, is not about loss for its own sake.
It is about making space.
Space for truth to take root where something has become strained.
Space for a more honest relationship with God.
Space for a way of living that actually holds.
Jesus says it plainly:
“Whoever wants to save their life will lose it, but whoever loses their life for me will find it.”
This is not a call to diminish your life.
It is a call to release what you are gripping so tightly that it is keeping you from becoming who you are meant to be.
So where do you begin?
You begin with truth.
You allow yourself to say:
This no longer fits.
This is no longer leading me toward life.
I may need to release this.
You don’t need to solve everything at once.
But you do need to stop avoiding what you already see.
Then you bring it into prayer.
Not as something polished.
Just honestly.
“Lord, if You are asking me to let this go, give me the courage to do it… and the trust to believe You will meet me in what comes next.”
You may not feel ready.
That’s alright.
Faith rarely begins with readiness.
It begins with willingness.
And when you are able, you take one step.
Not the entire path.
Just one step.
And then another.
If you find yourself here, holding something you’re not quite ready to release, hear this clearly:
You are not failing.
You are standing at a threshold.
And thresholds are not places of judgment.
They are places of transformation.
Places where something is ending… and something else is beginning to take shape.
And you are not walking through it alone.
Christ does not wait for you to become certain before He walks with you.
He is present in the hesitation.
Present in the questions.
Present in the courage it takes to begin.
And when you are ready, He will lead you forward.
If this space has helped steady you as you navigate these seasons, consider becoming a supporting member. You’ll receive deeper reflections so you don’t walk through these changes alone, and your support helps ensure this ministry remains here for others who are searching for clarity, faith, and a place to begin again.
A Prayer for Letting Go
Lord God,
You know the things we hold onto, sometimes out of love, sometimes out of fear, and sometimes simply because we do not know what else to do.
You see where we hesitate.
You see what we are afraid to release.
Give us the grace to be honest with You.
Where we are afraid, meet us with Your presence.
Where we are uncertain, steady us with Your truth.
Where we are holding too tightly, loosen our grip with patience and care.
Teach us to trust that when You ask us to let go, You are not leading us into emptiness, but into something deeper and more true.
And remind us that we are never asked to walk into the unknown alone.
You are already there.
And You are already with us.
Amen.
I’m curious how this is resonating with you, please let me know in the comments!