People have this inherent urge to reach for things. Across religious and political perspectives, we argue over what is good and what is not, but generally we agree that good does, in fact, exist. We have a deep sense that there is a “Good”—and that we are falling short of it, as is the world around us. And so we reach for it. 

At some point in our lives, we realize that “things are not as they should be.” As we get older, we often notice that this realization wounds us. We wonder what would cause such a wound, and, as poets, philosophers, and songwriters have said alike, it turns out that the wound is caused by love.

I remember, as a young teen, reading a book about Kim Meeder, a young woman who devoted her life to helping suffering children by running an equine therapy ranch. I was impacted by the hard work and tenderness of this woman and her team, who rescued abused horses and then created opportunities for struggling children to find healing and hope alongside these animals. It’s people like Kim from Crystal Peaks Youth Ranch who see all that the world is, despite its ugliness, and advocate that the pain be transformed into loving action.

Love, as the ancient philosopher Thomas Aquinas wrote, is “to will the good of the other.” This, we all find within ourselves. We all have this need to address the sorrows of others, not just our own. Love is not inverted. Love does not collapse inward, but moves us outward. It urges us to see those who are suffering in the world as, in some mysterious way, our responsibility.

That’s why we universally admire figures like Gandhi, Mother Teresa, Oskar Schindler, or Harriet Tubman. They understood that we belong to one another to some extent, and that there’s a love that connects us. They understood we must respond to this transcendent call of love: a call that reminds us that we are not isolated. 

We admire these men and women because they understand that to be the best versions of ourselves, to be truly human, is not to be passive and self-centered, but rather to become active agents of love.

Each time we do something in an effort to “make the world a better place,” we are being driven by this desire to bring the world and the people we love closer to the good that we believe should be.

How can I be assured that my efforts really matter? 

Even when we are driven by this desire to move the world closer to what it ought to be - a human community fully motivated by love for one another - we can be confronted with this horrible sense that our individual efforts aren’t making a difference. Or at least not enough of a difference.

We have the Martin Luther King Jr.’s of the world. The Mother Teresas. The leaders of global non-profits whose achievements seem unquestionably meaningful because of their scale. And then there’s the rest of us, laboring away without news stories, big bank accounts, or success of epic proportions.

I’ve wrestled with this question myself. Over the past decade, I’ve had a few opportunities to do work that received attention and reached thousands of people. It was great, and for a time, I viewed these opportunities as evidence that I was actually doing something meaningful.

In the midst of this, I was invited to the memorial of someone who had died—someone I loved, though didn’t know well. A couple of minutes before the event began, I was asked if I would MC the program.

There were no cameras. No thousands of people. It was a private event. And yet I realized: this was one of the most meaningful things I had done in years. In terms of using my abilities for good, there was no doubt that this mattered.

Amid all our pursuits to “make the world better,” isn’t this what we’re all looking for? The assurance that what we are doing is meaningful and really worth it?

I was humbled, even embarrassed, because I realized I had started to think that scale determines significance. I felt it in my gut: I had gotten off track. That day reminded me of a fundamental truth I had forgotten: love - not achievement - is the meaning of life. My attempts at doing good had started to taste dry because I had lost sight of what makes me human and what makes life meaningful.

Christianity talks about this in the Bible.

“If I speak in the tongues of men or of angels, but do not have love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal … If I have a faith that can move mountains, but do not have love, I am nothing. … If I give all I possess to the poor… but do not have love, I gain nothing.” (1 Corinthians 13:1-3)

This doesn’t mean there aren’t great problems requiring great solutions. But the greatness of love is not determined by the scale of its outcome. Meaning can be radiant in the small moments.

Love and Human Nature

This brings me back to what it means to be human.

Why did Mother Teresa keep healing?
Why did Harriet Tubman keep fighting?
Why does it matter that you and I keep trying to bring about something good?

Yes, for the sake of the world. But also because it’s built into my nature.

Everywhere I look, I see people from every walk of life motivated to love well and to do good. I see people persisting in love despite great adversity. Much of their work is hidden or thwarted, and yet they keep going. Love compels them. It is as though they would be unwell if they stopped loving.

We don’t often pause to ask why this is so universal. 

Why is love as essential to our well-being as food or water? Why does love, when withheld or betrayed, wound us at the deepest levels? Why, when authentically offered, does it restore us like nothing else?

It might not be that love is just an output or extension of life. But what if love is the source of life?

What if love is the wellspring from which meaning flows - not the results of our actions, not the recognition we receive, not the size of our impact.

To act in love is to act according to our design. To love is to be human. And it’s in this sweet spot that the world finds rest - even if only in small circles, quiet rooms, or in the life of even just one person who needed exactly the love we offered. It’s in the offering of food to those who need it. It’s in the kindness of a doctor or nurse when you’ve received horrible news at the hospital. These moments feel more meaningful and alive than anything else.

Love is the thread that runs through every ache, every act of service, every dream for a better world. 

Love is both the reason we long for the good and the power by which that good becomes reality. 

It is the source, the lifeblood, and the end. And when we live from that, nothing is wasted. 

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