“What good is it, my brothers and sisters, if someone claims to have faith but has no deeds? Can such faith save them? Suppose a brother or a sister is without clothes and daily food. If one of you says to them, “Go in peace; keep warm and well fed,” but does nothing about their physical needs, what good is it? In the same way, faith by itself, if it is not accompanied by action, is dead.”
- James 2:14-17 NIV
I was stretched out on my favorite couch Saturday morning, one eye open and one ear listening, when my human started talking about plans for the New Year.
New plans.
New goals.
New intentions.
Lots of words… not much motion yet.
I know that look.
I’ve seen it every January.
From my spot on the couch, I thought about faith. Not the kind we talk about while sipping coffee, but the kind that gets up, puts on its shoes, and goes outside—even when it’s cold.
You see, I don’t think about trusting my human.
I do it.
When he reaches for the leash, I don’t ask for a five-point plan.
I don’t wait until I feel confident about the route.
I stand up, tail wagging, ready to go.
Faith, for a dog, always moves its feet.
James wrote it plainly: “Faith by itself, if it does not have works, is dead.” (James 2:17).
That verse makes perfect sense to me.
A bowl that never gets filled isn’t much of a promise.
A door that never opens isn’t much of an invitation.
A pair of shoes never worn don’t ever go.
As we step into a new year, it’s easy for faith to stay theoretical—something we agree with, nod at, and talk about.
But real faith looks like obedience even when it’s inconvenient…
Kindness when it’s undeserved…
Generosity when it costs us something….
Trust when we don’t know where the path leads.
I’ve noticed something else about my human.
On days when he lives his faith—serving, forgiving, showing up—he seems lighter somehow.
Less anxious.
More focused.
It’s as if faith was never meant to be stored on a shelf, but exercised like a muscle.
Faith put to work.
Dogs understand this.
We were made to follow.
To respond.
To act on trust.
We don’t wait until we understand everything.
We move because we know who holds the leash.
This year, maybe faith doesn’t need to be redefined—just released.
Put it to work in small, faithful steps:
… a prayer prayed and acted upon
… a neighbor loved
… a habit changed
… a calling obeyed.
Faith doesn’t have to be loud to be alive.
It just has to move.
Now if you’ll excuse me, I see shoes by the door and hear the jingle of keys.
That’s my cue.
Faith isn’t something I think about—it’s something I follow.
And I’ll follow anywhere… as long as I’m with my Master.
Keep the Faith… Carpe Diem
