A Season of Spiritual Surrender

A Season of Spiritual Surrender
By Josef Luciano

Jaded. So very jaded. What a start to 2026.

Before snowpocalypses and global conflicts dominated the headlines, I was frustrated by a series of stressors that, in hindsight, seem minor. By year’s end, these irritations ballooned into what felt like an insurmountable weight. I longed for a peaceful close to 2025, but life had other plans.

During my job’s hectic year-end reporting in October, we were asked to collect each staff member’s specific goals for the new year. Some were project-focused, but most of their goals centered on personal growth: “I want to learn more, tell more meaningful stories about real New Yorkers, and take more initiative.” At the time, while I respected their openness, the cynic in me felt like it was just corporate-speak for telling me what I wanted to hear. In reality, it was the voice of my own cynicism that deafened me to the sincerity behind their aspirations.

As I read on, it became clear that what they really longed for was genuine collaboration. It brought me back to why we chose each person for our team—they all bring something unique, and together, they’re stronger. By year’s end, I was overworked and had become petty, annoyed, and curt—driven by stress, unrealistic timelines, and a lack of trust in my team’s sincerity. That’s when I realized: Sometimes, the best thing I can do is step back, listen, and let them work together.

This Lent, my sacrifice—which has always been a struggle—was my lack of trust. I committed to a season of spiritual surrender, laying down my need to know the “how” and “when” so I can better follow His “who.” To be less judgmental, to try to see each person as God sees them—not just as a potential crisis or office space annoyance.

Right before Lent, I went to an early morning confession and stayed for Mass. Fittingly, it was the feast of St. Agatha—a young martyr who seemed powerless to the Roman Empire but held profound spiritual strength.

The readings felt meant for me, especially as I reflected on my own need for humility and dependence on God’s grace. They reminded me that God works most powerfully through our weaknesses and imperfections.

“Rather, God chose the foolish of the world to shame the wise, and God chose the weak of the world to shame the strong, and God chose the lowly and despised of the world...so that no human being might boast before God.” (1 Cor 1:27-29)

Read St. Agatha’s story. It’s a powerful reminder that true strength isn’t found in the ability to inflict pain, but in the grace to endure it out of love. That is the cross.

For the sake of His Sorrowful Passion, have mercy on us and on the whole world.

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