The Hidden Gifts of a Practiced Faith

December holds the anchors that steady us as we cross from one year into the next.

December is often called a season of light, but it’s also a season of faith. Across traditions including Christmas, Advent, Hanukkah, Yule, Bodhi Day, and even the quiet turning of the year, we are reminded that belief is a universal human instinct. Not belief in the same things, but belief itself. Something beyond us that anchors, steadies, and guides.

I believe we all need an anchor, but not everyone’s anchor will look the same. What matters is the presence of one that is something practiced, lived, and returned to. Something that gives shape to how we see the world and how we move through it.

That is the distinction for me. Faith, in whatever form it takes for each of us, is not about retreat. It is an orientation. A way of holding ourselves in the world so we don’t drift with every tide. And perhaps, as this year ends and the next waits just beyond the horizon, it’s worth looking at the hidden gifts a practiced faith brings to our lives.

Here are five that rise to the surface.

1. Faith as Light — Revelation and Beginning

In some traditions, and within my beliefs, the story of creation begins with a simple phrase: Let there be light. Before anything else could take shape, before land or sky or seasons, there had to be the ability to see.

Faith does that for us. It brings clarity where there was confusion, illumination where there was uncertainty. It doesn’t erase the darkness; it simply makes it possible to move through it without losing ourselves.

Light is the first gift of faith. Not the glow of instant answers, but the gentle illumination that helps us understand where we are, what we’re facing, and where hope might still be found. It is often subtle. It is always important.

2. Faith as Anchor — Held, Not Stuck

Anchors are often misunderstood. They’re not designed to keep a vessel from moving at all;
they’re designed to keep it from drifting into danger.

A practiced faith offers that same steadiness. It grounds us when circumstances feel uncertain or overwhelming. It keeps our minds from spiraling into fear and our hearts from wandering into despair.

But it doesn’t hold us hostage. A true anchor is weighted yet flexible. It lets us stay connected to what matters while still giving us the freedom to move, adjust, and rise with the changing tides.

Stability without stagnation — that’s the hidden gift.

3. Faith as Compass — The Orientation Within

At some point, all of us encounter seasons when the map is unclear or even missing altogether. What we planned doesn’t unfold the way we imagined. What once felt certain can suddenly feel doubtful. The question What now? becomes more urgent than What’s next?

In those moments, faith functions like an inner compass. It doesn’t show the entire path, but it does point us toward our true north and to the values, callings, and convictions that matter most.

The beauty of a compass is that it doesn’t require perfect visibility. It simply requires alignment with what is constant. Faith helps us find that alignment, especially when external markers fade.

4. Faith as Bridge — Connection Across Distance

We are living in a time of deep divides in so many areas. Whether social, political, relational, or any space where connection is needed, the divides can feel endless. And it can feel as though the distance between us is growing wider by the day.

But faith, at its best, is connective. It bridges what we cannot cross on our own:

• Past to future,

• Longing to meaning,

• Uncertainty to courage,

• Self to something greater.

Faith allows us to hold paradoxes, to remain open, to choose connection even when differences feel sharp. It helps us believe in what we cannot yet see, including the possibility of healing in places that feel broken.

The gift here is more than connection. It is continuity and a way to move forward without severing what has shaped us.

5. Faith as Rhythm — Sustaining What We Practice

Faith is often quiet. Not an announcement, but a rhythm. A way of returning, again and again, to what grounds us.

It is the daily practice of belief, be that the prayers whispered, the pauses taken, the reflections written, or the choices made in alignment with meaning rather than urgency. It’s less about certainty and more about consistency.

This rhythm doesn’t demand perfection. It simply keeps us from losing the thread of who we are and what matters most. Like a steady tide, it returns, shaping us over time.

The hidden gift of rhythm is endurance. Ask any distance runner and they will tell you that rhythm is what enables them to sustain their focus to finish the race.

Faith that is practiced, not just professed, makes us resilient. Not because life becomes easier, but because we become steadier.

Learning, Living, Leading: The Path of an Active Faith

Years ago, Jim Rohn said something that has stayed with me: Before we can say we have an active faith, we must become a student of it, we must practice it, and we must teach it.

The three movements of learn, live, and lead have long been a mantra in my life and my work. They form the true arc of a practiced faith and for any full and meaningful journey. 

• We learn so our faith has depth.

• We live it so our faith has integrity.

• We lead with it, not by proclaiming it, but by embodying it, so our faith becomes a quiet offering to others.

Formation, expression, influence.
These are the channels through which faith becomes not just a belief, but a way of being.

The Quiet Thread That Runs Through It All

As I reflected on these final days of the year, I noticed something else:

Every one of these gifts of faith also shapes the way we love.

Not just who we love, but how.
How we show grace.
How we offer patience.
How we set boundaries that honor our worth.
How we stay open, even in a world that often closes.
How we let ourselves be loved in return.

Faith steadies us. Love moves through us.

And together, they form a way of being that carries us from one year into the next with more clarity, more courage, and more compassion for ourselves, for each other, and for the world we share.