It is an odd quality. Faith in any amount moves a person or a mountain, and when it lacks, it does nothing more than eat away at the conscious. The decision is to of course have it, an active choice, required daily. Like prayer. Faith is in all things, from the man of faith (the misnomer descriptor for anyone believing in a higher power, because all persons are people of faith, even when they deny it) to the agnostic to the atheist--although in the later his isn't as outwardly pronounced, nor would he ever admit to having any.
There are moments of fleeting, just-grasped pursuits of faithfulness. Fullness of faith. Or just as the original word implies, of being faithful, devoted and otherwise there. But how there is it? Does it matter to have or be without? Sharing faith is callousness. Sharing callousness is benign. Being benign is called being an asshole. Being kind is being a jerk, and being nice is being depraved enough to know that you're inwardly inflicting harm upon others, but not being man enough to admit it.
To be kind is to do what's right, including what would be right even if it outwardly might appear mean (although not wrong). Being nice is satiating the ego, in more ways than one. He's nice and she's nice, but never kind. And he's nice but not faithful and she's nice but not faithful. And in both cases they're faithless. But in their nice but faithless havens, lacking in heaven (but pursuing it), they speak of the appropriateness of their actions, how nice is good, but kind is wrong, kinda wrong, and goodly niceness. It leads back to faith, altruism, and the pathologies that crusade their daily shenanigans. But never with thought. That requires questioning, even in faith.