The audience sees the actors, but the play only works because of the unseen crew behind the curtain. This week’s message reminds us why the hidden work of God’s Kingdom matters more than we think.

Many years ago, I was given the opportunity to be an on-stage actor in several local civic theater productions. The audience always notices the actors. They see the faces, hear the voices, and remember the lines. But anyone who has spent time in theater knows the truth—the play only works because of the people you don’t see. The lights must come on at the right moment. The sound cues have to be flawless. The props need to be ready at just the right time. Several of my children worked backstage, and I saw firsthand how essential they were. The actors may get the applause, but without the hidden work of the stage crew, the show would fall apart.

That’s how I think of my friend, a Capuchin friar named Fr. Martin. During his years as a priest, he once taught in a Catholic school. He taught English and grammar. Perhaps that explains his remarkable gift for spotting the tiniest errors. For years he has reviewed these 4th Day Letters, and his ability to catch a missing comma or a speling misstate rivals that of an eagle spotting prey from a thousand feet (yes, the mistake was intentional). His sharp eyes and quiet diligence have shaped every letter you’ve read—even though most of you have never seen his name. And isn’t that the way the Kingdom of God often works?

Not everyone is on stage. Not everyone writes books, gives talks, or leads retreats. Not everyone sings in the choir or preaches from the pulpit. But everyone can do something. The truth is, most of the essential work of God’s Kingdom happens in the shadows, far from the spotlight.

In Matthew 6:4, Jesus told us, “Your Father who sees in secret will repay you.” That line has always struck me. We humans crave recognition. We like applause, affirmation, and acknowledgment. But the economy of heaven runs differently. God values the small, the hidden, the seemingly insignificant. A kind word spoken at just the right time. A meal delivered to a neighbor. A prayer whispered in the night. A comma caught in a letter that will be read by thousands. The saints remind us that greatness in God’s eyes isn’t measured by visibility but by faithfulness.

There’s a phrase I love: bloom where you are planted. It’s easy to look at someone else’s life and think, “If only I were in their position, I could make a difference.” But God doesn’t ask us to be somewhere else. He asks us to be faithful right where we are. Just as Jesus spent thirty years in the hidden life of Nazareth, growing in wisdom and grace, so too do our quiet, faithful lives contribute immensely to God’s plan. Maybe you’re a parent quietly raising children to know and love Christ. Maybe you’re an elderly person who can’t do much physically but faithfully prays for others. Maybe you’re the volunteer who stacks chairs after everyone else has gone home. Or maybe you’re like Fr. Martin, using your sharp eye to polish words that will point someone closer to Jesus. None of it is wasted. None of it is unseen. Some of the smallest acts carry the greatest eternal weight.

St. Paul reminds us in 1 Corinthians 12 that the body of Christ is made up of many members, each with its own function. The hand is not the foot, the eye is not the ear, and the comma-spotter is not the one writing the message. But together, they form a whole. Together, they serve the mission of Christ. And here’s the miracle: God uses each part—large or small—for His glory. No effort for the Kingdom is ever insignificant. No offering of love is ever overlooked.

So today, I want to say thank you to Fr. Martin—for his commas, yes, but more importantly for his example. He reminds me that behind every visible act of ministry there are countless invisible acts that support it. And I want to extend that same gratitude to you. Many of you live quiet, faithful lives. You don’t seek recognition. You simply do the next right thing. You show up. You love. You pray. And heaven notices. Beyond the grand gestures, there is an everyday heroism, made up of these quiet acts of faithfulness.

One day, when the veil is lifted, I believe we will be astonished at just how much the hidden acts mattered. The whispered prayers, the unnoticed kindnesses, the faithful commas. They were the threads God used to weave His Kingdom into the fabric of this world.

So let us not grow weary in doing good, for in due season we will reap, if we do not give up (Galatians 6:9). Let us bloom where we are planted. Let us remember that in the Kingdom of God, there are no small acts—only small acts done with great love. And maybe—just maybe—there’s a faithful friar behind the curtain making sure the commas land in the right place.

Heavenly Father, thank You for reminding me that no act of love is too small for You. Teach me to never grow weary in doing mundane, unseen, acts of kindness. Help me to serve quietly and faithfully, trusting that You see what others may not. Amen!

AMDG 

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Brian Pusateri
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