I've been on sabbatical from active parish ministry for a couple of weeks now.

People keep asking what I'm doing with the time. The honest answer is: Less than I expected.

I'm praying. I'm journaling. I'm walking. I'm sitting with questions I've been too busy to sit with. I'm not filling every hour with projects - though the temptation is real.

And I'm learning things I couldn't have learned while moving at full speed.

The first thing the sabbatical taught me is what to stop doing.

A couple of weeks ago, I started leaning into a new role as a Knights of Columbus field agent. It seemed like a good fit - helping Catholic families protect and provide for their futures, working within an organization I've long admired, building something meaningful.

Within days, I knew it wasn't right.

Not because it was bad work. It's good work, important work, and the men doing it are doing something valuable. But the demands and rewards weren't aligned with what I'm called to at this point in my life. I could feel it in my body before I could articulate it in words. The fit was off.

So I walked away.

A year ago, I might have pushed through. I might have told myself to give it more time, to not be a quitter, to honor the commitment I'd made. But the sabbatical had already done something to me. It had cleared enough space that I could see what was actually true.

Sometimes the bravest thing is to stop doing something good so you can focus on something better.

The second thing the sabbatical is teaching me is what I actually want to build.

When you step back from the daily rhythm of parish ministry - the Masses, the meetings, the pastoral care, the constant motion - you start to see the shape of what remains.

What remains for me is Domus. The daily formation for Catholic households. The writing - Lux Perpetua, Two Lamps, essays. The consulting and advisory work with dioceses and Catholic institutions. The new venture I'm calling Ad Alta - formation for leaders in transition.

These aren't new. They've been growing alongside everything else for years. But when you subtract the noise, you see them more clearly. You see how they fit together. You see what they're asking of you.

I'm not abandoning parish life. But I'm asking harder questions about what my service should look like in the next season - and I'm giving myself permission to not have the answers yet.

The third thing the sabbatical is teaching me is that discernment is slow.

I want clarity now. I want a plan. I want to know what August looks like, what next year looks like, what the rest of my life looks like.

But that's not how it works.

St. Francis de Sales - one of my patrons - wrote: "Never be in a hurry; do everything quietly and in a calm spirit. Do not lose your inner peace for anything whatsoever, even if your whole world seems upset."

Discernment is not a problem to solve. It's a relationship to tend. You show up. You listen. You notice what gives life and what drains it. You pay attention to the consolations and the desolations. And you wait - not passively, but attentively.

Every week, I continue to kneel before the Blessed Sacrament and offer the questions again. Every week, I listen for whatever comes. Sometimes something comes. Often, nothing does - at least nothing I can name.

But I'm learning to trust the silence as much as the words.

There's a verse that has become my anchor this year: Matthew 6:33.

"Seek first the kingdom of God and his righteousness, and all these things will be added to you."

Seek first the kingdom. I've quoted it dozens of times. But lately I've been sitting with a harder question:

What is the Kingdom?

What am I actually supposed to seek first?

I went to confession today. As soon as I had confessed my sins, the priest said something that stopped me: "You know, the first words Jesus speaks in the synoptic Gospels are these: Repent, for the kingdom of heaven is at hand."

At hand. Right here. Not far off. Not something to achieve. Something already present, waiting to be entered.

And then Origen's insight came back to me - something I read years ago and have never forgotten: "The Kingdom of God is Christ himself."

The Kingdom is not a program. Not a plan. Not a set of goals or a strategic framework. The Kingdom is a Person.

To seek first the Kingdom is to seek first Christ. To order everything else - the work, the ministry, the building, the family, the questions - under His reign. To follow where He leads, even when the path isn't clear.

That's what the sabbatical is for. Not to figure out my five-year plan. To seek first the Kingdom. To seek first Him.

Here's what I can tell you after a couple of weeks:

The sabbatical is not a vacation. It's not rest in the way a beach trip is rest. It's more like physical therapy - necessary, sometimes uncomfortable, aimed at restoring something that got strained.

What got strained, for me, was clarity. I had so many good things going that I couldn't see which ones were essential. The sabbatical is helping me see.

And what I'm seeing is this: the next season is about focus, not addition. It's about doing fewer things more deeply. It's about building what only I can build, and releasing what others can do better.

Most of all, it's about seeking first the Kingdom - which means seeking first the King.

I don't know exactly what that looks like yet. But I know more than I did a couple of weeks ago.

And I trust that by the time the sabbatical ends, I'll know enough to take the next step.

If this resonated with you, I'd be honored if you shared it with someone who might need to hear it.