Good Shepherd Newsletter 7

Staff

Newsletter 7: Holiness Out of Temptation:
“The devil made me do it”

Posted by Holy Family Counseling Centers Staff on April 20, 2020

From Sin As Addiction (Gerald McCormick) Sin as spiral (“a sense of the dragon”): Here, sin is experienced as “habit, as some sort of a disorder of the will, as a power or a demon with a will and plan of its own”. In this perspective sin is like a virus, attacking where it wills and getting worse in the process. “We live in a world in which sin is a deadly and contagious virus which threatens, saps and debilitates our moral and spiritual health and lives”. All the way back in the ‘70s, a very successful comedian named Flip Wilson turned “the Devil made me do it” into a meme of the day. He would do something outrageous in plain sight, then grin into the camera and say, “Th e Devil made me do it.” Th e audience would howl because everyone was in on the joke. Treat yourself to a laugh with this clip: https://youtu.be/zGKAaPM72UY


A. The Relationship Between Psychological and Spiritual Realities.

Everyone knew that Flip was exploiting a bit of theology to avoid taking responsibility for bad behavior. When Flip Wilson did it, it was absurdist comedy, yet for some it has become a standard explanation for poor behavior and bad choices. The facile use of this way of thinking has the inherent danger of a loss of personal integrity that comes with the abdication of personal responsibility. It becomes very convenient when we can blame the Devil, or someone, or something else for that matter. Our worst behavior and the expectation to take responsibility for it is easily dismissed. No matter what the transgression or error, the implication is the same: an external agent of evil/mitigating circumstance has taken control of us.


This kind of devil-based theology includes an important but unstated message: When I’m good it is attributable directly to me, but if I do something reprehensible, just blame it on the Devil or an “other.” The incongruence becomes evident when praise is mine and blame belongs to someone or something else.


Accepting personal responsibility as a lesson in humility is a healthy remedy. It is an exercise of maturity, virtue and integrity to simply say: “I did it. I’m not proud of it, but I did it.” The motivation probably comes from a deep perhaps barely explored part of our own psyche, but it is us, “me”. The fruit of a good examination of conscience can help tease out personal responsibility, tacit or explicit cooperation with evil, or an awareness that it was out of our control.


While identifying that something is out of our control may be giving the devil his due, it is in taking personal responsibility for our faults and failures that we participate in that amazing grace that liberates. There is a remarkable contemporary pushback to admitting the possibility, if not the reality, of some kind of spiritual warfare going on in our lives and in the world. Typically at this point many of us will feel uncomfortable and become reluctant to consider giving the devil his due in a discussion of spiritual warfare. Yet dealing with the forces of evil is undeniably a part of Jesus’ narrative and ministry. Casting out demons is among the first miracles reported by Jesus’ disciples upon their return from mission. As a Christian tradition we celebrate the theological reality that grace builds on nature, but seem surprisingly reluctant to admit that spiritual evil does indeed comprise our nature. Sometimes things really are both/and; not necessarily either/or. Among the many scripture passages that give us pause on this score, these two can act as a challenge to reconsider our reluctance.: Ephesians 6:12: “For our struggle is not with flesh and blood but with the principalities, with the powers, with the world rulers of this present darkness, with the evil spirits in the heavens”, and 1 Peter 5: 8: “Be sober and vigilant. Your opponent the devil is prowling around like a roaring lion looking for [someone] to devour. Resist him, steadfast in faith, knowing that your fellow believers throughout the world undergo the same sufferings.”


Suffice to say that a strategy is needed here as we tease out where any battle is being fought in our lives. While acknowledging the realities of a present circumstance, be open to discerning the influence of the Accuser, our ancient foe. Celebrate the thought that through Christ’s saving work we are not the enemy despite our faults and failings and as long as we avoid falling into agreements/cooperation with any aspect of evil. Simply strive to stand your ground by claiming that you are among the redeemed sinners that in Christ are clinging to that Truth of being redeemed and freed by the Blood of the Lamb. Living in goodness and truth is always a challenge, yet strive to avoid being intimidated by your weaknesses and imperfections. Celebrate who you know Christ is calling you to be, despite any apparent lack of progress, confident that God is indeed with you, and that you have been entrusted with a very important mission. Ultimately, you may feel dragged through the mud, battered and tried, but so it is for every resistance fighter.


B. Mental, Emotional, and Physical Signs of Temptation

Acknowledging the realities of temptation in our lives can be hard to accomplish. Acknowledging these realities requires a level of introspection that might be hard to maintain. Who hasn’t heard someone say that a dessert, drink, or show is their ‘weakness’? This is a lighthearted acknowledgement that these people are easily tempted by one of these items. It is in our human nature to become comfortable with our habits and routines. An enemy worth their salt knows that the easiest way to tempt someone is to do it through what they are most comfortable with. In order to resist temptation we must be aware of ways in which we can be tempted.


In the world of addiction recovery, there are numerous adages about the struggles with earthly temptations. As people struggled with addiction they learned to notice when their temptations were at their worst. During the process of recovery, addicts would notice that they were most vulnerable to their temptations when they were Hungry, Angry, Lonely, and Tired. These four areas of life touch our humanity in the most vulnerable areas and can lead to temptations being much more difficult to overcome.


Hunger can be related to physical and emotional needs. To be physically hungry is fairly straightforward. We all know when we need to eat. However, it is also important to know how we respond emotionally when we are hungry. Does anger creep in? Can we be short with others? Do we recognize our emotional changes that come with being hungry? We can be hungry for other things as well. Do you notice when you are hungry for affection, accomplishment, or understanding? When physical hunger is not met, our body converts stores of fat into energy for our body to run. When our emotional hunger is not met, our minds can make up for it with knowledge of who we are. However, this leads to a phenomenon called ego depletion. Ego depletion is the idea that our mental resources of willpower and self-control depend upon a limited supply of mental resources that need constant replenishing.


As an emotion, Anger often gets a bad rap, however, anger is a normal and healthy emotion to experience. A key to staying on the healthy side of the spectrum of anger is to pause and understand the cause of the anger. We can be angry at people, situations, or ourselves. Anger can be due to one episode, or it can be an ongoing event in our lives. Anger is often a secondary emotion, it arises as a tool to keep us safe from what we are really trying to hide. Ask yourself, what is under the anger. Is it fear? Sadness? Shame? If the root of anger is not sought out and examined it can easily turn into resentment or other less healthy emotions. Let us not forget the words of the Jedi Master, Yoda: “Fear is the path to the dark side… fear leads to anger… anger leads to hate… hate leads to suffering.”


We can experience loneliness when we are by ourselves or when we are surrounded by people. Loneliness occurs when we isolate ourselves (mentally, physically, or emotionally) from others. This may happen because we are afraid, think others may not understand us, or have doubts about who we are. Isolating ourselves leads to the things we are trying to avoid growing in intensity. When we willingly remove ourselves from support systems, we allow the negative beliefs to foment. The Devil can tempt us to be afraid and discouraged in these times of isolation causing us to question if we are really loved. This can tempt us to hold onto transgressions against us and fail to forgive or understand where others are coming from.


Over the last two years, tiredness may be the gateway to temptation that we experience more than anything else. Being tired takes a toll on our minds, hearts, and bodies. Our days have been packed with errands, meetings, and navigating the emotional waters of a pandemic and the associated fallout. When we are tired we compromise our ability to compromise. This allows the temptation for division with others to take hold and begin to fester. Tiredness occurs in much the same way as hunger in that we can be mentally, physically, and emotionally tired. When we experience tiredness we do not have the ability to raise our defenses easily and our capacity to cope with various stressors becomes much more difficult. Taking the time to HALT each day can be an antidote to temptation.


Taking the time to ask ourselves, “Am I hungry, angry, lonely, or tired?” is a good way to check in with our ability to handle life’s stresses.


C. Antidotes to Temptations

Many times after experiencing temptations, near occasions of sin, or even having committed a sin, we repent; make an effort to not fall back into sin; and try to put the event behind us. However, this method is like trying to heal a wound without proper medical attention. Sure, it could heal, but it is going to take longer and in some cases leaves us festering in our struggle.


What if, instead, we approached temptations and sin with the understanding that our soul is trying to tell us something about what it needs in order to function and heal properly. This requires some attention and reflection on what led up to a particular temptation or sin, allowing us to highlight whether Hunger, Anger, Loneliness, or being Tired contributed to our experiences. We are psychological and spiritual beings, therefore, any approach to heal the soul should include both an antidote to the psyche and the anima. These antidotes are not miracle cures or fixes; just as a band-aid and anti-bacterial ointment do not immediately heal a wound; rather, they are tools which help a person manage HALT on a psychological and spiritual level. From the psychological perspective we will look to process what control we have over these different states in order to develop a better sense of self-regulation. The spiritual perspective; however, will look at what we seek to control that really belongs to God’s mercy. As you read this, we invite you to consider the full Serenity Prayer, as a framework for understanding the struggles of the soul; namely,what is mine to do and what do I need to leave to God’s loving providence.


HUNGER: Hunger illicites the psychological defense to seek comfort over balanced eating, sleeping, exercising, and learning. This is done in order to avoid being confronted with one’s insufficiencies. While the spiritual temptation is the belief that I have the power to make God stop loving me; this feeds one’s shame which leads to the avoidance of participating in prayer and the sacraments.


  • Psychological: The psychological antidote to hunger is temperance. This virtue is about finding a balance which seeks to maintain the right order of body and mind. It is crucial to make sure that we are getting the right nutrition, sleep, and exercise to help the body function properly. Balanced meals, 8 hours of sleep, and 30 minutes of exercise have shown to significantly improve a person’s resilience. The window of tolerance for patience can be shortened due to poor diet, sleep, and exercise, and in many cases can be remedied with a good meal, full night’s rest, and a 30 min walk. However, an antidote to hunger is not solely about feeding the body, but also the mind. It is important to be engaged in intellectual development, as a way to expand and grow one’s perceptions, as well as,develop a deeper and richer view of the world.

  • Spiritual: The spiritual antidote to hunger is humility. We are sinners who are beloved by our Heavenly Father. We are made for love and our souls crave it. The struggle here is that we cannot control whether others love us; or even how others choose to manifest that love to us. Therefore, it is important to monitor and gauge how much our soul is aware of the love of God, and His love through others. That is why prayer, sacraments, and sacramentals are essential to feeding the soul; they are the avenue by which we encounter the mercy and love of God. So too, conversation and encounters with friends are ways to remind ourselves of the love of God and love that others have for us. It revives the soul and allows it to feel at rest. Even in the business of our lives, 10 minutes of prayer or a conversation can be a powerful way of grounding oneself in the truth that you are loved by God.


ANGER: The psychological defense is to seek to control or be responsible for other peoples’ actions, beliefs, or feelings. This is done in order to prevent future or further hurt that the other person may have caused. This seeks to avoid grasping the reality of our powerlessness in the face of others. The spiritual temptation is to believe that God does not care enough to seek your good. This results in one dictating how the mercy and justice of God should operate; which leads one to avoid offering to God how others have hurt him This in turn inhibits trust with God.


  • Psychological (temptation: to control others and situations): The psychological antidote to anger is justice, that is, learning to live in the right relationship with others. The first steps towards living in justice requires a person to acknowledge and take ownership of what is his responsibility in a situation and what is not. We are responsible for our feelings, beliefs, and actions. However, no one can control or own the feelings, beliefs, and actions of another. When one person wrongs another, the offended person can acknowledge how he felt wronged, by the other’s actions, and how that action influenced his belief about the other. The other has the ability to respond in his own manner, to either recognize or reject the proposed injustice.

  • Spiritual Temptations (dictate how God justice and mercy should work): The spiritual antidote to anger is faith. That is, faith that God in His love and justice will prevail, even if the situation does not play out how we would like. This takes a tremendous amount of trust, to surrender to God that which is out of your control. This is why one of the most effective applications of this spiritual antidote is in prayer, because it is only in prayer that we can offer our struggle up and let go of control. The most difficult thing to surrender to God, sometimes, is the freedom.

LONELINESS: Loneliness invokes the psychological defense of seeking to protect an individual from the possibility of rejection through either controlled isolation or superficial relationships. Both of these methods are typically surrounded by excessive compulsive behaviors as an effort to escape the sense of disconnection. The spiritual temptation is the belief that my being is so corrupted that no one, not even God, could ever empathize or advocate for me in my struggle. This results in isolation from God and from others, resulting in the most dangerous of all the temptations.


  • Psychological: The antidote is fortitude, the application of this virtue lies in the courage to be authentic and vulnerable in front of friends. This is not limited to only having emotional vulnerability, but also allowing oneself to simply be. It is important for psychological health to make sure that one has time to play and converse with others. Practically speaking, this could be having a card night with buddies, going out to the bar/coffee shop with friends, or reaching out to spend a night out with other lay faithful or priests. In these times, it does not have to be solely focused on sharing difficulties or hardships; however communicating these can help one confront their fear of rejection, rather than avoid it through the distraction of a vice.

  • Spiritual: The antidote is mercy. In order to practice this virtue, strength is required to share authentically with God and another the spiritual struggles that one is facing. One of the greatest fears we face as humans, is the fear of rejection, of being unacceptable to others, ourselves, and God. This can lead individuals to avoid sharing and opening up at all costs, in order to avoid this possible reality. This practice of opening up to God and other trusted individuals, can have a healing effect of mercy. The sacrament of reconciliation becomes a fundamental tool for helping us make this reality. The love of God calls us forward, not into shame, but rather into recalling who we are and what we are meant for, which is to be loved and to love.

TIRED: The psychological defense is seeking an escape from disapproval. This can manifest in two ways, the individual who is caught is avarice (avoids the task in order to avoid disapproval) or the individual who presents as a workaholic (avoids rest in order to avoid disapproval). In both scenarios, the individual is wrestling with perfectionism. The temptation is the belief that limitations and weaknesses, that keep me from perfection, are unacceptable to the Lord. This leads, as mentioned above, to either avarice or overexertion.


  • Psychological: The antidote is prudence, the ability to know when and how much to rest. This antidote requires an individual to assess and acknowledge his physical, mental, and spiritual limitations. Leisure and rest are crucial for recovering and restoring spent energy. Here it is important to be mindful of activities that do not merely alleviate/bring escape from our struggles, but rejuvenate us and restore us anew. Social media, tv, and youtube, are poor mediums in which to practice rest, because they serve to distract versus restore. Finding and practicing a hobby or being outdoors is a great way to develop and restore oneself, because one is able to rest from the day in order to give one’s mind and body a break from the tasks of the day. The second part of rest is accepting what can be accomplished through a striving effort, not a perfect effort. It is important to understand that what is accomplished is enough, even if it is not to your liking. On the other hand, if you struggle with overworking it is important to realize that what is accomplished is also enough, there is no need for it to be perfect. As Mother Theresa once said, I am not called to be successful, only to remain faithful [to my task at hand]”.

  • Spiritual Temptations: The antidote is hope, the ability to trust that God will bring to completion of the work yet finished. Fr. Mike Schimtz has an amazing talk on the importance of sleep and how getting to bed can be an act of trust in God. That is I entrust that you, oh Lord, will bring to completion that which has remained unfinished in the work I have done. Sometimes, the greatest form of rest is prayer, in particular prayer in which we allow ourselves to rest in the Father’s arms. Reminding ourselves that it is not our responsibility to make the parish counseling meeting go smoothly, or to get a huge attendance for parish events. It is not our role to convince others of the truth. Rather, it is one’s responsibility to love in the midst of the situation one is given, not the situation they wish they had been given. This requires that one humbly assess and acknowledge his limitations, not to serve as an excuse, but to remind one that he is merely mortal and it is God who accomplishes all things through the limitations of his servants. All he asked is that we submit ourselves to the plow, and on that day do our best to accomplish what he can, trusting that He will bring the work to completion through the messiness. Sometimes, the simplest way to live this out can be modeled from the prayer of John XXIII, “It’s your Church {Parish, Ministry, etc] God. I’m going to bed!”

Slowing Down for Lent: A Therapist’s Case for Holy Unproductivity

By Peter Attridge, PhD • February 9, 2026
I spend a lot of my days telling people to slow down. I say it gently, of course. I say it while holding a mug of coffee that’s gone cold because I forgot to drink it. I say it while glancing at my own calendar, which—if I’m honest—often looks like a competitive sport. As a Catholic therapist, I live at the intersection of faith and feelings, prayer and patterns, grace and nervous systems. And every Lent, without fail, the same theme shows up in my office and in my own life: I am tired, and I don’t know how to stop. Our culture is not particularly fond of stopping. We admire hustle. We reward output. We celebrate efficiency, productivity, and optimization. Even rest has been rebranded as something you do so that you can work better later. God forbid you rest simply because you are human. Lent arrives each year like an unwanted knock at the door of this over-scheduled life. It barges in with a planner and a productivity app. Almost as a continuation of New Year’s Resolutions that we already are done with. It asks us to do more as our Lenten promises add on to our to-do lists. Or maybe, just maybe it asks us—almost annoyingly—to do less. Or at least, to do fewer things that keep us from becoming who we are meant to be. From a therapeutic standpoint, this makes perfect sense. The Pace That Is Killing Us (Softly, With Notifications) Most of my clients don’t come in saying, “I worship productivity as a false god.” They come in saying things like, “I can’t sleep,” or “I feel numb,” or “I’m doing everything right, so why do I feel so empty?” Many of them are faithful people who pray and genuinely want to grow closer to God—yet they approach their spiritual lives the same way they approach their inboxes: quickly, efficiently, and usually while multitasking. This goes the same for my clients that have no faith tradition. Our society has trained us to move faster than our souls can keep up with. Technology promises connection, but it rarely allows for communion. We scroll, skim, swipe, and react, but we don’t linger. We consume information constantly, yet we rarely digest it. Psychologically speaking, this keeps our nervous systems in a chronic state of low-grade stress. Spiritually speaking, it makes silence feel threatening. The problem isn’t that productivity is bad. Work is good. Creation itself begins with God working—slowly, deliberately, and with frequent pauses to notice that things are good. The problem is that productivity has become a measure of worth. If I am not producing, achieving, improving, or optimizing, then I must be failing. That belief quietly seeps into our relationship with God. We start to believe that holiness is something we accomplish rather than something we receive. Lent becomes another self-improvement project. Give up sugar. Pray more. Be better. Try harder. Exhaust yourself in the name of sanctity. No wonder so many people burn out quickly. A Therapist's Observation: Growth Requires Slowness In therapy, change does not happen quickly. If it does, I’m usually suspicious. Real growth requires safety, repetition, and time. Trauma heals slowly. Habits change slowly. Trust develops slowly. Even insight—those “aha” moments we love—takes time to sink from the head into the heart. When people try to rush healing, they often end up reinforcing the very patterns they’re trying to escape. The same is true spiritually. You cannot bully your soul into holiness. You cannot shame yourself into virtue. You cannot sprint your way into deep prayer. This is where Lent, properly understood, becomes a gift rather than a burden. Lent is not about cramming more spiritual activity into an already overstuffed life. It is about creating space. Space to notice what drives us. Space to feel what we’ve been avoiding. Space to listen for God, who rarely shouts. The Church, in her wisdom, has always known this. Which brings us to some of my favorite unlikely spiritual guides: a group of ancient monks who ran away to the desert. Lessons From the Desert (No WI-FI, Plenty of Wisdom) The Desert Fathers and Mothers were early Christians who left the cities to seek God in solitude, silence, and simplicity. As a therapist, I’m endlessly fascinated by them—not because they were perfect, but because they were painfully honest about the human condition. They understood distraction, compulsion, pride, and despair long before smartphones gave them new names. One of the most striking things about the Desert tradition is how little emphasis there is on doing impressive things. The advice is often boring. Stay in your cell. Be faithful to prayer. Eat simply. Sleep. Work with your hands. Repeat. There’s a famous saying attributed to Abba Moses: “Go, sit in your cell, and your cell will teach you everything.” In modern terms, this is deeply inconvenient advice. Sit? With my thoughts? Without noise? Absolutely not. And yet, psychologically, it’s brilliant. When we slow down and remove constant stimulation, what rises to the surface is not usually peace. It’s restlessness. Anxiety. Old wounds. Temptations we’d rather not acknowledge. The Desert Fathers didn’t flee distraction because they were holy; they became holy because they stopped fleeing themselves. Lent invites us into a kind of interior desert—not to punish us, but to tell us the truth about what we’re carrying. Why Slowing Down Feels So Hard From a therapeutic lens, our resistance to slowing down makes sense. Busyness is an excellent coping strategy. It keeps us from feeling grief. It distracts us from loneliness. It gives us a sense of control in a world that is often frightening and unpredictable. Spiritually, busyness can become a way of avoiding God. That may sound harsh, but it’s usually not intentional. God asks for our hearts, and our hearts are messy. It is much easier to give Him tasks. The Desert Fathers warned against what they called acedia , often translated as sloth, but better understood as a restless avoidance of the present moment. Acedia whispers, “Anywhere but here. Anything but this.” It can look like laziness, but it can also look like frantic activity. Sound familiar? Lent is an antidote to acedia, not because it makes us more productive, but because it roots us more deeply in reality. It asks us to stay. Lent as a Season of Regulating the Soul In therapy, one of the first goals is helping people regulate their nervous systems. When we are constantly overstimulated, our capacity for reflection, empathy, and prayer shrinks. Slowing down is not a luxury; it is a requirement for integration. Lent offers built-in practices that do exactly this—if we let them. Fasting, for example, is not about willpower. It is about learning to tolerate desire without immediately satisfying it. That skill is essential for emotional maturity and spiritual freedom. When we fast, we discover how quickly we reach for comfort—and how deeply we are loved even when we are uncomfortable. Prayer during Lent is often simplified. Fewer words. More silence. This can feel unproductive, but silence is where we relearn how to listen. As the Desert Fathers knew, God is not impressed by eloquence. He responds to availability. Almsgiving slows us down by pulling us out of our self-absorption. It interrupts the illusion that our lives are solely about us. When done thoughtfully, it cultivates compassion rather than guilt. None of these practices are meant to exhaust us. They are meant to humanize us. A Gentle Warning About “Winning” Lent Every year, I see people treat Lent like a spiritual CrossFit competition. Who gave up the most? Who prayed the longest? Who suffered hardest? This approach is usually fueled by good intentions and a not-so-good relationship with self-compassion. From both a therapeutic and Catholic perspective, suffering is not redemptive unless it is united to love. The goal of Lent is not to break ourselves open through sheer force. It is to allow God to do the work we cannot do on our own. The Desert Fathers were surprisingly wary of extremes. They warned that ascetic practices pursued without humility often lead to pride or collapse. Moderation, they insisted, was key—not because God is bland, but because humans are fragile. If your Lenten practices leave you more irritable, disconnected, or self-critical, that is information worth praying with. Practicing Slowness This Lent (Without Moving to the Desert) You do not need to quit your job, smash your phone, or start weaving baskets in the wilderness. Slowing down for Lent can be profoundly ordinary. You might choose to do one thing at a time. Eat without scrolling. Pray without background noise. Walk without headphones once in a while. Let silence be awkward. It usually passes. You might shorten your prayer time but show up more consistently. Five minutes of honest presence is often more transformative than an hour of distracted effort. You might resist the urge to fill every empty moment. Boredom is not a failure; it is a doorway. You might notice where you rush and gently ask why. Not to judge yourself—therapists hate that—but to understand yourself. Above all, you might let Lent be less about self-improvement and more about self-reception. God does not need you to optimize your soul. He desires you, as you are, tired and unfinished and deeply loved. The Slow Work There is a line often attributed to Teilhard de Chardin about trusting the slow work of God. Whether or not he said it exactly that way, the sentiment is deeply therapeutic. God is not in a hurry. We are. The Desert Fathers believed that transformation happens quietly, over time, through faithfulness to small things. So does modern psychology. So does anyone who has ever tried to change a habit or heal a wound. Lent is not a detour from real life. It is a return to it. A chance to move at a pace that allows us to notice grace. A season to remember that we are not machines, not projects, not problems to be fixed—but beloved creatures, invited to rest even as we repent. So if this Lent you find yourself slowing down, feeling uncomfortable, resisting the urge to be impressive—take heart. You are probably doing it right. And if you fail? Welcome to the desert. We’ve all been there. Stay awhile. God is already closer than you think. In my own work at Holy Family Counseling Center , I see this truth play out every day. People don’t come because they are bad or spiritually lazy; they come because they are human beings trying to survive at an inhuman pace. Again and again, healing begins not when someone learns a new technique, but when they finally give themselves permission to slow down—emotionally, spiritually, and relationally. Lent offers this same invitation on a wider scale: to pause long enough to notice where we are rushing, what we are avoiding, and how gently God is waiting for us there. Therapy and faith, at their best, are doing the same holy work—helping us become more fully present to ourselves, to others, and to God.

The Star in the Window: A Midwinter Reflection for the Soul

By Peter Attridge, PhD, LMFT • January 16, 2026
As the calendar turns and the glitter of the Christmas Season begins to settle into the quiet, gray periphery of January, there is a collective pressure to "reset". We are inundated with messages about the "New You", usually packaged in the form of rigid resolutions or the sudden, frantic desire to fix everything that felt broken in the previous year. As a therapist, I often see the fallout of this "Resolution Culture" in my office. By the second or third week of January, many of my clients feel a sense of premature failure. They set a bar based on a fleeting burst of midnight motivation, and when the reality of daily life—the fatigue, the stress, the old habits—returns, they feel more discouraged than they did in December. This year, I want to invite you to step away from the secular treadmill of self-improvement and instead lean into the liturgical rhythm of the Church. We are currently in the season of Epiphany , a time that offers a much more compassionate and profound framework for personal growth than any gym membership or habit-tracker ever could. Moving Beyond the New Year, New Me Myth One problem with New Year’s resolutions is that they are often rooted in a rejection of self. We look at our flaws and say, "I must delete this version of myself and install a better one". From both a psychological and a Catholic perspective, this is a flawed starting point. In therapy, we know that true, lasting change doesn't come from self-hatred; it comes from integration . In Catholic teaching, we are reminded that we are already "fearfully and wonderfully made". Our goal isn't to become someone else, but to become more fully who God created us to be. Instead of resolutions, let’s look at this time of year from a different perspective, that of the Epiphany —the manifestation of Christ to the Gentiles, represented by the journey of the Magi. The Wisdom of the Magi: A Different Kind of Journey The journey of the Wise Men wasn't a race; it was a long, arduous, and patient trek guided by a singular light. They didn't have a 12-step plan to change who they were; they had a star. 1. Finding Your "Star" (Values vs. Goals) In clinical practice, we often distinguish between goals and values. A goal is something you can check off a list (e.g., lose ten pounds). A value is a direction you move in (e.g., caring for the temple of the Holy Spirit). The Magi followed a star—a distant, steady light. They didn't reach it in a day. As you look at this new year, ask yourself: What is my star? Is it a deeper capacity for patience? Is it a commitment to silence? Is it the courage to set boundaries that protect your peace? When we focus on the "star" (the value) rather than a rigid "resolution" (the goal), we allow room for the journey to be messy. If the Magi took a wrong turn, they didn't go home; they looked back up at the sky and corrected their course. 2. The Gifts: Inventory, Not Deletion The Magi brought gold, frankincense, and myrrh. They brought what they had. In this season, I encourage you to do a "Soul Inventory." Instead of looking at what you lack, look at what you are carrying. What are the "gifts" of your personality? What are the "myrrhs"—the bitter pains or griefs—that you are currently holding? In the therapeutic process, we bring these things into the light. In the Catholic tradition, we offer them to the Christ Child. Nothing is wasted. Even your struggles are gifts in the sense that they are the raw material God uses for your sanctification. Epiphany as a Bridge to Lent Many people see January as a vacuum and February as a countdown to Lent. But the Church, in her wisdom, uses this time as a bridge. Epiphany is about revelation —seeing things as they truly are. If Lent is the season of "doing" (e.g., fasting, almsgiving, prayer), then the weeks following Epiphany are the season of "seeing." You cannot effectively fast from a habit if you don't understand the hunger it’s trying to fill. You cannot give alms with a joyful heart if you haven't recognized the abundance God has already given you. Preparing the Soil Think of this time as "tilling the soil." Before a farmer plants (Lent), he must clear the rocks and turn the earth. This is the psychological work of January and February. Observation without Judgment: Spend these weeks simply noticing your patterns. When do you feel most anxious? When do you feel most distant from God? Don't try to fix it yet. Just see it. The Power of Another Way: After meeting Jesus, the Magi "departed for their country by another way" (Matthew 2:12). This is a beautiful metaphor for the therapeutic journey. Once you encounter the truth—whether in the confessional or the therapist’s chair—you cannot simply go back to the old routes. You are invited to find a "new way" home. Practical Soul-Work for the Season Since we are moving away from the pressure of resolutions, how do we actually use this time? Here are a few "low-pressure, high-grace" suggestions for the weeks ahead: 1. Practice The Examen - St. Ignatius of Loyola gave us a brilliant psychological tool in the Daily Examen. At the end of the day, don't list your failures. Instead, ask: Where did I see God's light today? * Where did I turn away from it? This builds the "muscle" of awareness that you will need when Lent arrives. 2. Identify Your "Herod" - In the Epiphany story, Herod represents the ego, the fear, and the desire for control that feels threatened by the "New King" (grace). What is the Herod in your life right now? Is it a need for perfection? Is it a specific resentment you’re clinging to? Recognizing your internal Herod is the first step toward preventing it from sabotaging your spiritual growth. 3. Rest as a Spiritual Discipline - The Magi traveled far, but they also stopped. Our culture demands constant production. But in the quiet of winter, the earth rests. Allow yourself a Sabbath of the Mind. If you are feeling burnt out, the most Catholic and psychologically sound thing you can do isn't to add a new prayer routine, but to sleep an extra hour and acknowledge your human limitations. We are creatures, not the Creator. Looking Toward the Desert Soon enough, the ashes will be placed on our foreheads, and we will enter the desert of Lent. But we don't have to rush there. If we spend this Epiphany season truly following our "star"—seeking the truth of who we are and who Christ is—we won't enter Lent out of a sense of should or guilt. Instead, we will enter Lent like people who have seen a Great Light. We will fast because we’ve realized we are hungry for something better than what the world offers. We will pray because we’ve realized we can’t make the journey alone. A Final Thought from the Couch If you find yourself struggling this January—if the New Year energy feels more like a heavy weight than a fresh start—take a deep breath. You are not a project to be solved. You are a person to be loved. The Magi didn't find a palace; they found a child in a humble, probably messy, stable. God meets you in the messy stable of your current life—not the perfected palace of your resolutions. This year, let’s stop trying to resolve our lives and start trying to reveal them. Let the light of the Epiphany show you the way, one small, patient step at a time. Walking Together at Holy Family Counseling Center If navigating these internal movements feels overwhelming, remember that you don’t have to follow the star alone. At Holy Family Counseling Center , we specialize in walking alongside individuals and families as they integrate their psychological health with their Catholic faith. Whether you are struggling to identify your Herod or simply need a safe space to process the myrrh in your life, our clinicians are here to help you find that other way toward healing and peace.

When and How to Make Amends: Discernment, Boundaries, and the Catholic Call to Healing

By Peter Attridge, PhD • November 11, 2025
As a Catholic therapist, I often sit with clients who are wrestling with a deeply human question: When is it the right time to make amends ? Whether it’s reaching out to someone who has hurt them, or considering their own responsibility in a fractured relationship, the process of healing often leads us into the tender territory of reconciliation. But forgiveness and reconciliation aren’t the same thing. Forgiveness is something we’re called to offer freely—an act of the will that releases resentment and gives us peace, even when the other person hasn’t apologized. Reconciliation, on the other hand, is a step that involves two people. And discerning when—or even if—that step should be taken requires wisdom, prayer, and often, boundaries. Let’s explore how we can approach this process with care and courage, supported by both therapeutic tools and the richness of our Catholic faith. Discerning the Right Time to Make Amends Discernment is a familiar concept in Catholic life. We use it to seek God's will in big decisions—vocations, careers, relationships. But it’s just as important in the smaller, more personal moments too, like choosing when to reach out to someone who has hurt us, or someone we may have hurt. Therapy can be a valuable space for this kind of discernment. Sometimes the desire to make amends comes from a sincere place of healing and readiness. Other times, it may be driven by guilt, pressure, or a longing for closure that the other person may not be able to give. In our sessions, I often help clients explore their motivations. Are you seeking peace, or permission? Healing, or validation? Discernment is about honesty—with yourself, with God, and with your emotional limits. St. Ignatius of Loyola offers a helpful framework for discernment rooted in prayerful reflection, noticing the movements of the heart. If the thought of reconciliation brings a sense of peace, courage, and compassion, it may be time. If it stirs anxiety, dread, or a sense of obligation, it may be wise to wait, or to approach things differently. The Role of Boundaries in Forgiveness and Healing One of the most common misconceptions I hear, especially among people of faith, is that setting boundaries is somehow un-Christian. But in truth, boundaries are acts of love —toward ourselves and others. They help define what is safe, respectful, and life-giving in a relationship. Forgiveness does not mean allowing someone to continue harming us. Christ calls us to forgive, yes, even “seventy times seven” times (Matthew 18:22), but He does not call us to abandon prudence or endure abuse. Remember, even Jesus withdrew from hostile crowds at times (John 10:39), and He taught that reconciliation involves both repentance and change (Luke 17:3-4). In therapy, we often work on developing “healthy boundaries” that allow us to engage with others from a place of strength and safety. For example, it’s okay to forgive a parent for past wounds without allowing them to manipulate your present life. It’s okay to love a sibling from a distance if closeness continues to result in harm. And it’s okay to hope for reconciliation without forcing it to happen. Boundaries are not walls; they are gates. They give us the freedom to let people in—but only when it is healthy and appropriate to do so. Making Amends with Compassion and Clarity If and when the time does come to make amends, whether as the person extending forgiveness or the one asking for it, approaching the conversation with humility and clarity is essential. We can take inspiration from the Sacrament of Reconciliation, where the process of confession involves examining our conscience, naming our sins, expressing true contrition, and receiving both forgiveness and guidance. Similarly, when making amends in our personal lives, we begin by acknowledging what happened—not defensively, but honestly. We share how the situation has affected us. We listen. We don’t demand immediate restoration, but we open the door to it. And sometimes, we might take that step and find that the other person isn’t ready. Or they respond with defensiveness, denial, or more harm. That’s when we return to our boundaries. Forgiveness is still possible, but reconciliation may need to remain a hope rather than a present reality. Spiritual Guidance Along the Way Throughout this process, our faith can be an anchor. Prayer becomes a conversation with the God who knows every wound and walks with us through every step of healing. The saints offer examples of both radical forgiveness and wise discernment. St. Monica, for instance, teaches us about perseverance in love and prayer without enabling harmful behavior. St. Maria Goretti’s story is often cited for her forgiveness, but we also remember her clarity in saying no to harm. And of course, the Sacraments nourish us. Receiving the Eucharist strengthens us to love like Christ. Confession helps us experience God’s mercy, so we can extend it more freely to others. Spiritual direction can also be helpful when navigating complex relationships and emotional burdens through a faith-based lens. Trusting the Slow Work of Healing Making amends and setting boundaries aren’t one-time decisions. They are part of an ongoing, unfolding process of healing. We may feel ready one day and hesitant the next. That’s okay. Forgiveness is not linear, and relationships—especially broken ones—rarely heal overnight. But I’ve seen firsthand the beauty that emerges when people engage in this work with courage. When they honor both their pain and their desire for peace. When they protect their hearts with boundaries, but still remain open to love. And when they trust that, even if reconciliation is not possible now, it may one day be—with God’s grace. In Conclusion If you’re in the midst of wrestling with whether to make amends, take heart. It’s not an easy decision, and it doesn’t have to be rushed. Therapy can offer tools and support. Your faith can offer wisdom and hope. And both can help you move forward with peace. Forgiveness will always be a part of the journey. But reconciliation? That’s something we discern, with prayer and prudence. And no matter where you land—whether you reach out, stay silent, or hold space from afar—you are not alone in the journey. If you haven’t yet read Part One of this series, I encourage you to explore the foundations of forgiveness and healing in both therapy and Catholic tradition. That post dives into the inner process of releasing pain and embracing God’s mercy—a powerful first step before considering reconciliation. May you be filled with gentleness, wisdom, and the peace that comes from the One who forgave us first. Forgiveness can feel impossible at times—but it’s also one of the most healing gifts we can give ourselves. If you're carrying the weight of resentment or hurt and feel ready to explore a path toward release and peace, therapy can help. At Holy Family Counseling Center , we create a safe space to process the past, understand your emotions, and move forward with intention. Connect with us when you're ready—we’re here to walk that path with you.