the good work in the quiet moments

edited by sarina e. guerra
formatted by justin orsino

“For we are his workmanship, created in Christ Jesus for good works, which God prepared beforehand, that we should walk in them.” — Ephesians 2:10

There are verses in the Bible that read like lightning strikes. They stop you in your tracks, reminding you that your life—messy, ordinary, quiet as it may feel—isn’t an accident. For me, Ephesians 2:10 is one of those verses. Every time I return to it, I hear God whisper: You were shaped on purpose, for a purpose.

even the
Hidden Things
matter.

I’ll be honest, most days don’t feel purposeful. They feel rushed, heavy, or ordinary. I juggle errands, appointments, work, family life, and somewhere in the middle I wonder: Does this count? Is this really what God had in mind when He said He had “good works prepared beforehand” for me?

Several months ago, God gave me a vivid reminder that even small acts of faithfulness matter. And it happened in one of the least “holy” places you could imagine: outside Dollar Tree.

It was a blistering day, the kind where the heat presses down on you and even the air feels tired. As I pulled into the lot near the mall, I noticed a man sitting on the curb with an orange tabby cat tethered to him on a harness. The poor animal had crawled underneath my car as soon as I parked, desperately trying to escape the sun in the sliver of shade beneath it. Its sides heaved as it panted, clearly distressed by the heat. Both man and cat looked worn out. His clothes were faded, his skin riddled with both old and new wounds, and his eyes carried that mixture of exhaustion and guardedness I’ve seen before in the homeless.

I felt a tug in my spirit as I walked past them toward the store. Help him.

But here’s the thing: the inner objections came just as quickly. What if he doesn’t want my help? What if I don’t have enough to give? What if it gets awkward? What if he gets aggressive? I have a family, so do I really wanna risk getting hurt, or worse? So I did what felt safe—I went inside and did my shopping.

Yet the whole time, that tug wouldn’t let me go. I kept picturing the man’s cat under my car, panting in the heat, desperate for relief. By the time I checked out, I knew I couldn’t just walk to my car and leave.

So I walked back.

I started small, asking the man about his story. He told me he was trying to get back home to Indiana. Life had unraveled, and the journey ahead seemed impossible on his own. The cat, tethered faithfully to him, was both his responsibility and his companion on the road.

That’s when the tug became clear:

this is the
Good Work
in front of you
Today.

I offered him some money for food, bought his cat wet food and water, and then drove them to the bus stop. It wasn’t complicated or grand. It was sweaty, simple, and human. But as I wished him well, I sensed the weight of God’s quiet purpose in the middle of a Dollar Tree parking lot.

That encounter reminded me that “good works” aren’t always big projects, speaking platforms, or long-term ministries. Sometimes they look like carrying groceries for a neighbor, listening to a friend, or feeding a cat on a blistering afternoon. I am reminded by St. Thérèse and her Little Way: ordinary actions with extraordinary love. She was inspired by Matthew 18:3, where Jesus says, “Truly I tell you, unless you change and become like children, you will never enter the kingdom of heaven.”

The Bible is full of these reminders. Jesus said, “Whatever you did for one of the least of these brothers and sisters of mine, you did for me” (Matthew 25:40). The Good Samaritan story begins with a simple choice: not to cross the road and look away. James 2 challenges us that faith without works is dead—not because works earn us salvation, but because they reveal the living heartbeat of Christ within us.

These passages, together with Ephesians 2:10, remind me that God didn’t design me for abstract goodness. He designed me for embodied, specific, timely acts of love. He puts them right in front of me. The question is whether I’ll notice.

Looking back, I see how God has shaped me for these kinds of moments. My own struggles with feeling unseen have made me sensitive to others who are overlooked. My work in advocacy has trained me to listen for the quiet voices that often go ignored. Even my scars—painful seasons I once wished away—have become places where God’s compassion flows through me to someone else.

That day at Dollar Tree wasn’t a random coincidence. It was one of those “prepared beforehand” works that Ephesians 2:10 talks about. And the truth is, they happen far more often than we realize.

The tragedy is how easily we miss them. We rush past. We tell ourselves someone else will stop. We downplay what little we have to offer. And in doing so, we miss the chance to participate in God’s story—right here, right now.

Our culture doesn’t make this easy. We live in a society that measures worth by productivity, visibility, and profit. Small acts don’t make headlines. No one posts a viral video about buying wet food for a cat in a parking lot. But the kingdom of God measures differently. Jesus said the last will be first. The widow’s two coins outweighed the rich man’s offering. A cup of cold water in His name matters more than we dare believe.

This is why I keep coming back to Ephesians 2:10. It reminds me that even when the world isn’t watching, heaven is. Even when the work feels small, it is sacred. Even when the ripple seems invisible, it reaches farther than I can imagine.

So what do we do with this? For me, the challenge is to live with my eyes open—to notice the nudges instead of brushing them off. To treat interruptions as invitations. To believe that…

nothing is
wasted in
God’s Economy.

For you, the “good work” might look completely different. It may be mentoring a student, reconciling with a family member, or simply offering a word of encouragement to someone on the edge of giving up. The point isn’t the size of the act—it’s the faithfulness of the response.

That day at Dollar Tree taught me that I don’t need to dream up extraordinary ways to serve God. I just need to be present to the ordinary opportunities already in front of me.

So I’ll leave you with the same question I’ve been asking myself:

What small act of faithfulness might God be nudging you toward today?

Because even the quietest good work, walked in faithfully, has a ripple far bigger than we can see.