Faithful in the Small, Faithful in the Great

We live in a time that celebrates what is big, visible, and impressive. Success is measured in numbers, followers, and achievements that can be displayed. We chase after what shines, what is recorded, what can be shared. Yet we often forget that life is built not on great stages, but on small, quiet gestures.

Recently, I came across the work of American photographer Eric Pickersgill, author of the project Removed. The concept is simple, yet deeply unsettling: he photographs ordinary daily scenes families at the dinner table, couples in bed, friends sitting together on a park bench. Then he digitally removes the phones from their hands. The result is haunting. Faces remain, bodies are close, but hands hold nothing. People appear present and absent at the same time. What seemed natural becomes awkward, and the empty space where the phone should be exposes a strange absence in the midst of togetherness.

Pickersgill’s work is more than a visual trick, it is a mirror. It shows how often our hands and eyes are occupied, while our hearts are somewhere else. We appear to be with others, but our attention is far away. His images provoke us to ask: what are we really holding on to? And more broadly, they remind us of a truth about life itself: if we are not faithful in the little things, attentive to what seems small, how can we expect to be trustworthy in what is greater?

It is in the details of everyday life that our character is revealed. Patience with someone who interrupts us, a word of encouragement spoken quietly, honesty in a situation no one will notice these are the hidden choices that shape who we are. Life is not defined by perfection, but by coherence in the silence of ordinary days, when no applause or audience is expected.

The contrast between Pickersgill’s empty-handed portraits and the idea of faithfulness in the small is striking. The real challenge is not in the extraordinary, but in the ordinary. It is learning to look directly at the person next to us, to value presence over distraction, to remain whole even when no one is watching.

Perhaps true greatness is hidden in the small. Perhaps the secret to a full life is found not in what the world sees, but in the quiet consistency that slowly builds us from within. In the end, we are the sum of these silent choices. And it is in them that absence becomes presence, and life becomes whole.

Photo by Eric Pickersgill, from the series Removed