“Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?”
‭‭John‬ ‭14:5‬ ‭ESV‬‬

When I’m not certain how to join a conversation, I sometimes don’t say anything. I linger with my questions, I gather information.

I acknowledge my lack of understanding. I tell myself this is just too much for a well meaning but insufficient response. Situations over lives lost violently and unnecessarily weigh heavy on my heart. I am not equipped with words to make a dent in the dismay.

I turned to John today, led by my ancient Roman numerically referenced devotional, “Joy and Strength”.

A drawing in the margin illustrated the question asked by Thomas, “How can we know the way?”

I realized Jesus had told them, shown them, modeled it along.

The way is love.

John, chapters 13 and 14, tell the touching story of the love of Jesus.

Jesus, confusing the disciples by sitting at their feet with a basin of water, choosing the dirtiest of their parts, feet familiar with dirt, and he washed their feet.

He was teaching that you do what seems unfitting for you to do, you take it a step farther than telling about Him or giving food or shelter or telling their own Jesus story.

No, you love others if they’re different, you love people who walk on different roads other than your own.

You acknowledge that their steps are led by God enabled feet and journeys, joys and woes.

Feet like your own.

Made by God, loved by God.

Led by God.

Led by love.

All sorts of words can be said about choosing love.

It’s the choosing that matters, not really the words we’ve known so very long and already know.

It’s the choosing to love when that’s all you know or when that’s “all you got” in unthinkable ungodly situations.

“And you know the way to where I am going.” Thomas said to him, “Lord, we do not know where you are going. How can we know the way?” Jesus said to him, “I am the way, and the truth, and the life. No one comes to the Father except through me.”
‭‭John‬ ‭14:4-6‬ ‭ESV‬‬

Love is the way.

Love, the way to God.

Through the sacrificial death of Jesus, the washer of our faltering feet.