Have Faith

My dear Thomas, James, and Margot,

There’s something I want you to understand—not because the world will teach it to you, but because I’ve learned it over a lifetime, and I want to pass it down before the world convinces you otherwise.

Have faith.

Not faith in a religious sense, though if that speaks to you, honor it. I’m talking about a different kind of faith—the quiet, internal kind that doesn’t need to be shouted or worn like armor. The kind that doesn’t always make sense in the moment, but always proves itself over time. Faith in doing the right thing, even when it doesn’t come with a reward. Faith in people, even when they’ve let you down. Faith that the good you put into this world will come back to you—not always in the form you expect, and not always from the people you hoped—but it will come back.

I know how hard that can be. The world doesn’t always give you immediate reasons to believe in it. People will break promises. Good deeds will go unnoticed. You’ll see people win by cutting corners or putting themselves first. And you’ll wonder if this faith I’m telling you to carry is foolish. You’ll wonder if being kind, being generous, being hopeful—matters. You might feel alone in your effort to do things the right way.

But hear me: it matters more than almost anything else.

Because what you put into this life builds something. It builds your name. It builds your character. And over time, it builds a world around you filled with people who trust you, love you, and will stand by you—not for what you’ve achieved, but for how you’ve lived. You won’t always see the return right away. Sometimes the return is years in the making. Sometimes it comes when you’ve nearly given up. But it comes.

Have faith in that.

And when it comes to people—extend grace. Not because everyone deserves it, but because you do. Because withholding trust, withholding belief, withholding hope only hardens you. And the truth is, most people will rise to meet the faith you place in them, if only someone is brave enough to give it. You don’t have to be naïve. You don’t have to let yourself be hurt again and again. But don’t let the pain of being let down rob you of the beautiful possibility that people can be better. That they do grow. That they will surprise you.

I’ve lived long enough to know this: the more you see goodness in the world, the more it reveals itself. The more you give—your time, your patience, your forgiveness—the more whole you become. And it starts with this quiet kind of faith.

So walk through life with gratitude. Say thank you, even when things don’t go your way. Appreciate the small, unnoticed moments. Find joy in what others overlook. And when you have every reason to give up on someone or something, pause. Take a breath. And remember that faith is what keeps the world soft, and what keeps you human.

I don’t know what the world will look like when you’re older. I hope it’s brighter, more honest, more united. But even if it’s not—especially if it’s not—bring your faith with you. Let it guide your steps when the path is unclear. Let it shape your choices when no one is watching. And let it fill you with peace, knowing you’re living in alignment with something deeper than reward or recognition.

I believe in you. Always have. Always will.

Love,
Dad

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If today’s message stirred something in you—if it reminded you of someone you believe in or helped you reconnect with a part of yourself that needed a little hope—then pass it on.

I publish every weekday—Monday letters and short reflections the rest of the week—all meant to keep you centered on what matters most: living with purpose, leading with character, and making the most of the one life you get.

You can follow or subscribe on Substack, Apple Podcasts, or Spotify.

And as you move through this week, I’ll leave you with this: the good you put into the world may not come back right away. But it will come back. Keep believing. Keep giving. Keep showing up.

I’ll see you tomorrow.