How We Spend Our Money Matters
“You can tell they’re going to ask for money when they use the word ‘stewardship,’” my friend Gene said as he nudged me with his elbow from the pew behind me. He wasn’t wrong. It’s common to equate the idea with donating, but in fact generosity is a fruit of stewardship. Money is a tool entrusted to us by the Lord, and stewardship is wielding it for the sake of others and the glory of God. And it doesn’t require massive checks or color-coded spreadsheets—just a growing understanding that how we handle money matters, not only for our family’s stability, but for our faith. Stewardship feels abstract until it becomes personal. It gets personal when we start noticing the small habits quietly shaping our spending and then decide to change them. Here are three small habits that yield a margin almost big enough for the Holy Spirit.
Steep Yourself in the Mindset
One of my go-to podcasts is The Catholic Money Show by WalletWin. The married hosts have nearly opposite personalities, which makes for engaging, often hilarious conversation about faithful stewardship of a family’s income. When I’m not listening to them, I’m catching the latest Ramsey Show, where hosts speak directly to callers who need financial guidance. Rotating between the two keeps me anchored to a core truth: God entrusts financial resources to us, and it’s our job to order them toward the good of others and His glory—a sobering reminder and a motivating one.
Mindset directs success. Without a steady diet of content that reinforces good financial habits, it’s easy to drift—to normalize overspending, rationalize impulse purchases, and lose sight of the bigger picture. Filling that mental space intentionally, even just during a commute or a walk, quietly shapes the decisions you make later at the store or online. What goes in shapes what comes out.
Avoid the Near Occasion of Purchase
“Just looking” has a way of turning into “just this once.” I recently had unexpected free time and talked myself into browsing through a couple of nearby stores. I didn’t need anything—a casual walk through the home and garden department sounded harmless enough. Fifty dollars later, I was headed home with things I didn’t need and no clear plan for where they’d go. My husband and I had just committed to buying necessities only, so I turned around and returned the whole haul. Would $50 have derailed us? Probably not. But saying no to myself is a muscle that must be built, and it only gets stronger with practice. Honoring our agreement deepened my respect for it—and my appreciation for what we have.
Pray Before You Pay
It sounds almost too simple, but a brief prayer before a non-essential purchase can stop an impulse buy in its tracks. Before clicking “add to cart” or heading to the register, I check my motivation: is this transaction within the scope of our stewardship and goals? God entrusted me with these funds—am I using them well? That moment of quiet, even just five seconds, creates enough space between impulse and action for reason to catch up.
I’ve started tying the pause to a specific intention. If I skip the splurge, that money goes toward something that matters: a debt payment, a charitable gift, a need I’ve been putting off. A small sacrifice becomes an act of virtue rather than deprivation. We Catholics already understand offering things up—we do it with discomfort, inconvenience, and frustration all the time. Applying that instinct to our spending is a natural extension of a discipline we already practice.
The best part? It costs nothing and requires no app, no spreadsheet, no budget overhaul—just a habit of turning to the Lord in the small moments, including the ones that happen in checkout lines.
None of this is glamorous. There’s no viral budget hack—just normal instances where we can choose to be a little more intentional than the day before. That’s what stewardship looks like in the daily grind of family life. The podcast on the commute, the cart you leave empty, the prayer for clarity in the checkout line. Small things. But over time, small things add up—and so does the peace that comes with them.
