There’s so much uncertainty right now. The economy is wobbling, the headlines are overwhelming, and it feels like everything we counted on is shifting. I’ve definitely felt that weight. And if you have too, you’re not alone.

But here’s what I’ve discovered: you don’t need to fix the world to find peace.

Lately, I’ve been escaping to the woods. Not to run away, but to remember.

Out there, among trees that have seen decades of storms, I realize a few things:

I can’t control global events. But I can control where I spend my time and attention.

Doom-scrolling only feeds my anxiety. But walking, praying, or even just breathing deeply outside helps me feel human again.

My value doesn’t depend on how productive I am, how much money I make, or what my calendar looks like.

When the future feels shaky, it helps to go back to the basics:

Move your body – even a short walk helps.

Connect with others – even if it’s just reading birthday messages or checking in on a friend.

Create space for quiet – that's often where you hear what really matters.

Remind yourself what is in your control – your kindness, your attitude, your presence.

And above all: trust that you are not alone. Not in your fear. Not in your struggles. Not in your hope.

Jesus reminded his followers to look at the flowers, the birds—they don’t worry. And yet they are cared for. So are we. You are.

So if you’re feeling anxious about the future, I get it. I do too. But instead of spiraling, try this: go outside. Let go of what you can’t control. And reconnect with what you can.

The storm may be fierce—but we’re not powerless.

I wasn’t planning to walk another Camino.

Not this year. Not yet. But as I wandered through the woods this week, enjoying the first signs of spring, I felt that familiar pull. A quiet nudge that kept whispering: it’s time to walk again.

Last year’s trip to Ireland was amazing—but also exhausting. I told myself I needed a break from that kind of travel. And yet... I just found a Camino Primitivo guide in my mailbox (no idea who put it there), and everything suddenly clicked into place.

The Camino Primitivo is the original route to Santiago. It's shorter, but also harder—steeper, more remote. Still, something in me wants that challenge. Not just physically, but spiritually too.

When I walked the Camino Frances years ago, I didn’t realize how much it would change me. Not during the walk, but afterward. It took years to unpack what that journey had done. And maybe that’s the point. Sometimes, you just have to walk it first. The meaning comes later.

This time, I go with fewer expectations, but more trust.

If all goes well, I’ll start the Camino Primitivo in the second half of April. It won’t be six weeks—just two. But I believe it will be enough.

Because once you've walked the Camino, a part of you always keeps walking.

🎧 Want to hear more about how I made this decision—and what I hope to find on the trail? Listen to the full episode now.

Want to support my online ministry? Join the community of friends that help me with a monthly donation: https://fatherroderick.com/join

A few days ago, I went for a long walk. No phone. No recorder. Just me and the quiet of the woods.

That’s unusual for me. Normally, I’m always recording something — podcast episodes, course materials, you name it. But that day, I needed to step back.

Why? Because I was burning myself out. Trying to keep up with my own routines, like cranking out five podcast episodes a week, just because I set that standard for myself. It’s great to have goals, but the constant push to achieve them was making me feel like a machine.

Here's what I’ve started to realize:

☑ It’s not about output. It’s about effort.
↳ Pushing yourself to hit a goal often leads to burnout.
↳ Focusing on consistent effort, no matter how small, brings progress.

☑ Curiosity over judgment.
↳ Instead of berating yourself for not meeting expectations, ask: Why couldn't I?
↳ This simple, curious question unlocks real solutions.

☑ You don’t have to be perfect.
↳ Embrace where you are today.
↳ Stop letting your worth depend on measurable results.

☑ Find peace in the journey, not the outcome.
↳ Happiness doesn’t magically appear at the end of the road.
↳ It starts by embracing where you are right now.

This Lent, I’m trying something different: Instead of rigid rules and unrealistic goals, I’m focusing on the journey itself. Taking small steps. Allowing myself to be human.

What helps you find balance when life gets overwhelming?

Lately, I've been wrestling with a big question: How do I stay truly me in the content I create?

I've spent years fine-tuning my videos, optimizing my titles, and chasing the perfect format. I even bought a teleprompter to keep my scripts structured and my delivery polished. But something strange happened—the more "perfect" my videos became, the less people seemed to care.

Then, a funny thing happened. I uploaded a relaxed, off-the-cuff segment from a live stream—just me talking about my favorite books with zero scripting, zero polish, and no overthinking. And guess what? It took off. People loved it.

This realization is making me rethink my approach. Maybe I don’t need to be the perfect "media expert" or script every word. Maybe what truly resonates is just being myself—whether I’m talking about books, faith, geek culture, or anything in between.

So, here’s my experiment for Lent:

What do you think? Have you noticed this shift in your own online experience? Let’s talk.

Lately, I’ve been reflecting on my relationship with social media and content creation. For years, I measured success in numbers—views, likes, followers. But I’ve come to realize that the most valuable interactions aren’t the ones the algorithm prioritizes. They’re the small, meaningful conversations, the real connections that enrich my life and, hopefully, the lives of others.

This Lent, I’ve taken a step back from platforms like Facebook and Instagram. Instead of doom-scrolling through AI-curated feeds, I’ve shifted my focus to intentional engagement—replying to people I genuinely care about, building relationships rather than chasing reach. And you know what? It’s working. I feel lighter, less distracted, and more in tune with what truly matters.

That shift has extended to my creative process as well. For the longest time, I put immense pressure on myself to "perform" every time I recorded a podcast or made a video. I’d start recording, feel like I wasn’t delivering something polished enough, and delete the whole thing—sometimes multiple times. But I’m learning to let go of that pressure. To embrace a more authentic, unfiltered way of sharing.

This shift has even influenced how I approach my book-writing journey. I recently came across a writer on TikTok who shares his fantasy story chapter by chapter with his readers. He’s not waiting for the perfect launch or obsessing over marketing strategies—he’s inviting people into the process. And I love that. It’s something I want to explore for my own book, creating a space where people can engage with the story as it unfolds.

At the end of the day, whether it’s social media, podcasting, or writing, what truly matters is sharing the best of ourselves, not the most of ourselves.

If this resonates with you, I’d love for you to join the conversation. Walk with me on this journey by listening to the latest podcast episode. Let’s discover together how shifting our focus from numbers to relationships can transform the way we create, connect, and live.

Every year, as Lent begins, the question always comes up: What are you giving up? For many, it’s sweets, coffee, or social media. This year, I’m making a bigger decision—I’m stepping away from Meta entirely. That means no more Facebook, Instagram, Threads or WhatsApp.

Why? Because I’ve been paying attention to what’s happening with these platforms, and it doesn’t sit right with me anymore. With Meta scaling back moderation, prioritizing profit and growth over user well-being and social responsibility, and turning my timeline into a mess of ads and AI-generated junk, I realized: This isn’t a place I want to be anymore.

At first, I hesitated. Facebook is a big way I stay in touch with parishioners and promote my content. But then I looked at the numbers. All my efforts—posting daily, creating polished graphics, engaging with people—didn’t actually increase my reach or podcast audience. It wasn’t helping me, and worse, I felt stuck there out of obligation.

So I decided: This Lent, I’m taking a step back. Instead of passively feeding Meta’s business model, I’m investing my time in channels that help me reach new people and grow community, like BlueSky, Mastodon, YouTube, Discord and my own website. Will I miss the Meta platform? Maybe. But I think it will be freeing.

Lent isn’t just about giving something up; it’s about making room for something better. Maybe this is a good time for all of us to reflect: Is social media enriching my life, or is it just consuming my time?

🎧 Listen to the full episode for more thoughts on this, plus reflections on Lent, digital detoxing, and how we can reclaim our attention.

Fr. Roderick

P.S. Join my Discord community if you would like to share your thoughts about the programs that I make: https://discord.gg/ucQmZ6uj2V

Today, while walking in the woods, I noticed something simple yet profound. I watched dog owners and their playful pups, and it struck me how the dogs react to a little conflict. Whether they choose to run away, bark back, or simply surrender by rolling over, their behavior reminded me of the choices we face in our own lives.

I couldn’t help but recall my own past—times when I felt bullied and alone, caught between the urge to fight and the pressure to give in. Over time, I learned that standing up for what’s right isn’t about matching aggression. It’s about listening to your inner moral compass and acting with courage. In my journey of faith, I’ve come to see that:

This reflection also made me rethink the famous gospel message of “turning the other cheek.” At first, I saw it as a call to simply submit. But now I understand it as a challenge to be stronger—to stand up for others and for myself by holding onto a higher set of values. It’s like the rebellion in Star Wars: the moral strength of a few can tip the scales against overwhelming odds.

I’m sharing these thoughts because I believe that in today’s world, where injustice and bullying are still all too common, knowing your values and standing firm can change everything. If you ever feel torn between fighting back and giving in, remember there’s a third way—trust your inner strength and let it guide you.

When I prepared for my first marathon, I thought the hardest part would be the race itself—the 42 kilometers of relentless forward motion. Turns out, I was wrong.

The real challenge? Learning when not to run.

Like many, I believed pushing harder was always the answer. More training, faster miles, less rest. But my worst injuries, both in running and in life, came not from taking breaks—but from ignoring the need for them.

Pushing through can be good—but knowing when to step back is even better.

Rest isn’t weakness, it’s strategy.

The hardest part of balance isn’t finding it—it’s giving yourself permission to keep it.

This applies far beyond running. In work, faith, and personal growth, we often treat slowing down as failure. But in reality, knowing when to pause is what keeps us moving forward.

I share more about this in my latest podcast episode, reflecting on lessons from running, burnout, and even my time in seminary. If you’ve ever struggled with giving yourself permission to rest, this one’s for you.

I remember standing in Glendalough, the valley of two lakes in Ireland. The air was crisp, the landscape bathed in that soft Irish light, and the echoes of ancient footsteps seemed to linger in the stillness.

Centuries ago, a young man named Kevin stood where I had stood. Born into privilege, he walked away from it all to live in solitude, seeking God in the wild beauty of that valley. But solitude didn’t last. People found him, drawn by the authenticity of a man who wasn’t trying to lead… but ended up leading anyway.

His story stuck with me because, well, isn’t that life?

We seek peace, but people find us.

We run from expectations, only to stumble into purpose.

Sometimes, saying yes to the unknown is the bravest thing we do.

Saint Kevin didn’t set out to start a community. But he did. Not through strategy, but sincerity. Not by force, but by simply showing up, fully present in his calling.

I shared more about Kevin, Glendalough, and what they taught me about purpose and presence in my latest podcast episode. Maybe it’ll resonate with you, especially if you’re standing at your own crossroads.

I was standing at the foot of Croagh Patrick, a rugged mountain in Ireland where St. Patrick once fasted for 40 days. Pilgrims were climbing barefoot over sharp rocks, a powerful act of penance. I, meanwhile, was lacing up my sturdy boots, wondering what drove them to do this.

This mountain, this saint, and his story all have something important to teach us—not just about faith but about how we navigate an ever-changing world.

St. Patrick wasn’t even Irish. He was a kidnapped teenager, taken from what is now Scotland and enslaved in Ireland. Instead of giving in to despair, he turned to prayer, learning to listen for God’s voice in the silence. When he finally escaped and made it home, he had another vision—this time calling him back to Ireland. It made no sense. Why return to the land of his captors? And yet, he did. And that changed everything.

What fascinates me is how Patrick spread the Christian faith. Not through force or fear, but through understanding, culture, and storytelling. He spoke the people's language, embraced their traditions, and built communities that would last for generations.

That’s the part of Patrick’s story that feels so relevant today. We live in a time where many are retreating into fear, seeing change as a threat. But Patrick’s life proves that faith doesn’t thrive in isolation—it grows when it meets people where they are.

I think that’s something worth reflecting on today. What if, instead of fearing change, we looked for the ways God is calling us to step into it with courage? What if we saw differences not as barriers but as bridges?

If this sparks something in you, I dive deeper into these ideas in this week’s episode of The Walk. We explore Patrick’s real story (not the myth), how his approach still speaks to us today, and why faith always flourishes when it embraces, rather than rejects, the world around it.