You’ve probably heard the phrase before. It sounds like something you’d see on a dusty cross-stitch in your grandmother’s hallway or a motivational coaster. But where love is there god is also isn't just a Hallmark sentiment. It’s actually the title of a powerhouse short story by Leo Tolstoy, written back in 1885. Honestly, it’s kind of wild how a story about a Russian shoemaker from the 19th century still manages to call us out on our modern selfishness.
Tolstoy wasn't just some novelist. He was a guy wrestling with massive existential dread. By the time he wrote this, he’d already finished War and Peace and Anna Karenina. He was done with the high-society drama. He wanted to get down to the brass tacks of how to actually live a good life. The story follows Martin Avdeich, a cobbler who has lost everyone—his wife, his children—and is basically waiting to die.
Then he hears a voice. It tells him God is coming to visit.
What Most People Get Wrong About the Message
Most people think this story is just about being "nice." It’s not. It’s about the radical shift from looking for the divine in the clouds to finding it in the mud. Martin spends the whole day peering out his basement window, waiting for a grand manifestation. He’s looking for a spectacle. Instead, he just sees a cold old man shoveling snow, a soldier’s wife with a crying baby, and a hungry boy stealing an apple.
He helps them. Not because he thinks they are God, but because he can't help himself.
The kicker? God was there. He was in the tea Martin shared with the old man and the coat he gave the freezing woman. The core idea of where love is there god is also is that the divine isn't a guest who RSVP's to your party; it’s the byproduct of a specific type of human interaction. It’s what happens when you stop seeing people as obstacles and start seeing them as, well, people.
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The Real Source Material: More Than Just Tolstoy
While Tolstoy made the phrase famous, he didn't pull it out of thin air. He was heavily influenced by a folk tale by Reuben Saillens. He actually got into a bit of hot water for not crediting Saillens initially, though he later fixed that. The concept itself is deeply rooted in 1 John 4:12: "No one has ever seen God; but if we love one another, God lives in us."
Tolstoy took that abstract theology and put it into a basement in Russia. He made it tactile. He made it about the smell of leather and the warmth of a samovar.
Why the Story Still Matters in 2026
We live in an era of "curated" compassion. We post about causes. We like photos of charity. But the kind of love Tolstoy writes about is inconvenient. It’s gritty. It involves letting a stranger into your house when you’re busy. It involves mediating a fight between a cranky old woman and a thieving kid.
In a world where we’re increasingly isolated by screens, the message that where love is there god is also acts as a sort of corrective lens. It suggests that our current epidemic of loneliness isn't just a social problem, but a spiritual one. We're looking for "connection" in the digital sense, but we're missing the "communion" that comes from physical, sacrificial service.
- The Psychological Angle: Research into "prosocial behavior" frequently mirrors Tolstoy’s themes. Studies by psychologists like Elizabeth Dunn have shown that spending money or time on others creates a "helper's high" that is more sustained than self-centered consumption.
- The Practicality: Martin Avdeich wasn't a monk. He was a worker. The story argues that you don't need to leave your life to find meaning; you just need to change how you look at the people already in it.
The "Apple Scene" and the Complexity of Forgiveness
One of the most nuanced parts of the story involves an old woman and a boy who stole her apple. The woman wants the kid whipped. She’s angry, and she has a right to be. Martin intervenes. He doesn't just tell the woman to be nice; he helps her see the boy’s perspective, and he helps the boy see the woman’s.
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It’s a masterclass in conflict resolution.
He tells the woman that if the boy should be whipped for a stolen apple, what should happen to us for our sins? It’s a heavy-handed moral, sure, but in the context of the story, it works. It’s about the "law of grace" superseding the "law of retribution." That’s where the "God" part of the title comes in. It’s the moment when human nature—which wants to hit back—is overridden by something higher.
Breaking Down the Symbolism
Tolstoy uses the window as a frame. It’s a literal barrier between Martin and the world. At the start of the story, the window is a way to judge people—he recognizes them by their boots, which he has repaired. He views them through the lens of his trade. By the end, the window is a portal for connection.
It’s a subtle shift. He goes from looking at boots to looking at souls.
Practical Ways to Apply This Today
Honestly, trying to live out the idea of where love is there god is also is exhausting. It means you can't just ignore the person asking for change or the neighbor who talks too much. But there are small, manageable ways to integrate this "Tolstoy-esque" mindset into a modern schedule.
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First, practice "active seeing." When you're in line at the grocery store, try to imagine one specific struggle the person in front of you might be facing. It sounds hokey, but it breaks the habit of seeing people as NPCs in your life’s RPG.
Second, embrace the "inconvenience." The next time someone asks for a favor that "ruins" your afternoon plans, try saying yes. Not out of guilt, but as an experiment. See if the interaction provides a different kind of value than the productivity you lost.
Third, look for the "boots." Martin knew people by their feet. What is the one thing you know about the people you interact with daily? If you're a barista, maybe it's their order. If you're a teacher, it's their grades. Try to look past the "order" or the "grade" to the person behind it.
Actionable Steps for a More Meaningful Connection
- Identify Your "Basement Window": We all have filters through which we view the world—social media, professional status, political leanings. Identify one filter you can "clean" this week to see people more clearly.
- The 15-Minute Rule: Set aside 15 minutes a day where your only goal is to be available to others. No phone, no tasks. Just availability.
- Micro-Hospitality: You don't have to invite a stranger to tea like Martin did. But you can offer a genuine compliment to a coworker or take a moment to actually listen to a friend without checking your watch.
- Read the Original: Go back and read the actual text of Where Love Is, There God Is Also. It’s short, it’s free online, and it hits differently when you read Tolstoy’s own prose rather than a summary.
The reality is that where love is there god is also isn't a passive statement. It’s an active, ongoing verb. It requires a constant, often annoying effort to put others first. But as Martin discovered at the end of his day, that's exactly where the light gets in.
Stop looking for the grand epiphany. Look at the person right in front of you. That’s usually where the important stuff is hiding anyway.