There is a scene I want you to imagine, it is not in Scripture, but it feels like it could be.
It’s late at night in a family kitchen. The lights are dim. A mother sits at the table with a cup of cold tea in front of her. Upstairs, her teenage son has locked himself in his room again. The two haven’t really spoken in days. Every word turns into an argument; every silence feels like a wall. She’s exhausted, she’s tried counseling, prayer, conversation, but tonight, she’s run out of ideas.
And yet, she does something quiet and holy. She sets another plate at the table. Just in case. She decides that even if he doesn’t come down soon, she will be ready when he does. That small act, invisible to the world, is an act of faith. Not the sentimental kind that expects a miracle by morning, but the kind that refuses to stop preparing for one. We have all been either that mother, setting the table for her son, or the teenage son who locked himself up in his room.
That’s the spirit Paul is talking about when he says Abraham “believed against hope.”
Abraham is ninety-nine years old. His wife is ninety. Biologically, the whole thing is absurd. Paul tells us of Abraham, not that he ignored reality, but that he refused to let reality have the final say. He knew Sarah’s laughter was partly disbelief, but he still set the table for a promise that hadn’t arrived yet, and Abraham ordered the crib.
A Special Kind of Faith
Each of our families today knows something of that kind of faith. I think of a couple I know who had a son battling addiction. Every relapse was like a storm that knocked down what they had rebuilt. The temptation to stop hoping and to give up was enormous. But they never stopped believing in his possibilities. They kept boundaries, they kept praying, and they kept a place for him at their table. It took years, years of exhaustion and disappointment, but eventually he came home clean, humble, and alive. Their faith didn’t erase the struggle; it outlasted the struggle.
Or I think of another family of one of my students who lost everything in a fire, their home, their photographs, their sense of safety. The father told me later, “That night, when they stood outside watching everything burn, his daughter, who was in grade nine or ten, took his hand and said, ‘We will build again. That’s Abraham’s faith in real time. Not denial. But defiance. Refusal to let the loss of everything write the ending.
Ordinary People with Heroic Faith
Paul’s message in his letter to the Romans isn’t about ancient heroes, it’s about ordinary people who keep believing in God’s promises when the evidence runs out. It’s about parents who pray for a child’s return, spouses who keep working at forgiveness, siblings who believe a relationship can still heal after decades of silence.
Abraham’s story does not end with a child, but with the deeper miracle that happened inside him long before Isaac was born. He became the kind of person who could keep trusting later when logic said stop. Families who live that way, who keep loving, keep forgiving, keep believing, become the same kind of miracle.
So maybe faith for your family this week looks like that mother’s empty table, that father’s hand in the ashes, that quiet prayer you say when no one else sees. Our Faith should call us not to ignore reality but to stand right in the middle of it and to say, “This will not be the end of our story.”
- Today’s Readings
- Father Boby's inspirational homily was recorded live during Mass at the Father Peyton Center this morning. You can view the Mass (and the Rosary at the 30-minute mark) on the Family Rosary YouTube page.
- To join the Rosary and Mass Livestream, visit the Family Rosary YouTube or Facebook page at 11:30 a.m. Eastern, Monday – Friday. Consider inviting others to join, too! (*If you are not a member of Facebook and a signup window appears, simply select the X at the top of the pop-up message and continue to the livestream.)
