“Where can I go from your Spirit?” the psalmist asks. “You hem me in, behind and before” (Psalm 139:5,7). God’s presence is not a place we visit; it is the air we breathe.
The first task of every day, then, is not to make God come near but to wake up to the God who is already near—near in the quiet, near in the commute, near in the ache we do not name.
How do we live there? Jesus gives the simplest map: abide. “Abide in me… apart from me you can do nothing” (John 15:4–5). Abiding is not inactivity; it is in-Him activity—ordinary tasks done with a lifted heart: “Lord, be in my thoughts, on my lips, and in the work of my hands.” When we abide, love becomes the natural fruit, not an item on a list. “We love because he first loved us” (1 John 4:19). And love, the Scriptures insist, is always toward a person. It is patience with the slow, kindness to the overlooked, truth spoken without the sharp edge. Love is also public: “Let your light shine before others, that they may see your good works and give glory to your Father” (Matthew 5:16).
We shine not to be seen but so God is seen as good. Prayer is the workshop of impossible love. We carry the face we cannot love into the presence we cannot lose—and we stay until our shoulders drop and our hearts soften. So here is a small rule for this week:
Morning: Breathe Psalm 139: “You are here.” Midday: Whisper John 15: “I abide in You.” Evening: Practice Matthew 5: Pray by name for one person who is hard to love, and bless them.
And let us come to the Table, for here Christ hosts us—sinners, strugglers, friends. Fed by His presence, we are sent to love His people. May the Lord make His nearness your courage and His love your habit.
