Now — In the Kitchen, on the Road, at the Table

I do not want to leave this up in the heavens, because that is exactly the mistake the climbers made. The love of God does not pour through you in some spiritual realm above your actual life. It pours through you here, in the only life you have, on the unremarkable Tuesday you are actually living.

So let me bring it all the way down.

The Lord told us, through the prophet Micah, what He has always wanted — and notice it is not grand, and it is not far away.

"He has told you, O man, what is good, and what the LORD requires of you: to act justly, to love mercy, and to walk humbly with your God." — Micah 6:8 (NET)

Do justice. Love mercy. Walk humbly. That is the council's whole work, brought down to the size of a human life. The fallen sons were given the nations and would not do justice for the weak among them. You are given a far smaller territory — your home, your work, your handful of people, your few square feet of the world — and in that territory, the same work is yours, and the same love is poured in to do it.

What does it look like when the love of God pours through you? It looks like this.

It does not look like commanding angels. It looks like forgiving the person who wronged you and never apologized — letting God's mercy, the mercy poured into you, move out through you toward someone who has not earned it. That is the love of the running father, flowing through you.

It does not look like knowing all mysteries. It looks like sitting with a friend in a grief you cannot fix, and not leaving — letting God's nearness, the nearness that wept at a friend's grave, move out through you toward someone in the dark. That is the love of the One who wept, flowing through you.

It does not look like being honored. It looks like doing the lowly thing no one will thank you for — the unseen kindness, the quiet service, the towel and the basin in your own house — letting God's humility move out through you toward someone who can do nothing for you back. That is the love that knelt before the betrayer, flowing through you.

It does not look like seizing power. It looks like telling the truth when a lie would be easier and safer, and refusing to show partiality to the strong against the weak — letting God's justice, the justice the council abandoned, move out through you. That is the love that stooped to the ditch, flowing through you.

None of it is spectacular. None of it would make the news. And all of it, every quiet act of it, is the empty thrones being filled — is the work the great spirits failed at being done at last by children of dust, because the love of God is finally pouring through beings who will not block it. You will not feel cosmic while you do it. You will feel small, and tired, and ordinary. Do it anyway. The branch does not feel the sap moving; it only stays on the vine and bears the fruit. Stay on the vine. Let the love flow. That is the whole of the walk, today.

And I will tell you the strangest part. The more the love pours through you, the less you will feel like a great being and the more you will feel like a child who has nothing of their own — because you will know, with growing certainty, that none of the love was yours. It was all poured in. The people whom God is truly making into children of light do not grow prouder as they go. They grow emptier, lighter, more amazed, more sure that everything good in them came from somewhere else. That emptiness is not failure. It is the surest sign the real thing is happening. The proud spirit, climbing, fills with itself and falls. The poor-in-spirit child, abiding, empties out and shines.