As our vehicle approaches the summit of Wolf Creek Pass in Southwest Colorado, I explain the concept of the continental divide to 2 of my young grandchildren. Ascending one moment, I explain that if a flake of snow falls on this side of the mountain, when it melts, it will join the Rio Grande and end up in the Gulf of Mexico. Descending the next, I continue that if a flake falls on this side, it will join the Colorado and end up in the Pacific. I want to go on, but they grasp the concept readily, and the difference between glossing and mansplaining is as fine as that between a 6 year old’s fascination and utter disregard, so I entrust my lesson to the divide their minds constantly make between what belongs in the gulf of irrelevance and what should flow into an ever-rising ocean of pertinence.

Looking back, inflection points seem obvious: Eve at the tree, Jacob at the stream, Moses at the bush, Paul on the road, Peter on the roof. In the moment, though, even if we manage to identify the divide—ignoring or attending another’s need, rejecting or accepting a stranger’s offer, engaging or deflecting a conversation, investing in or discarding an opportunity—its outflow is beyond our horizon.

In a moment when David chooses pen over sword, he describes the one thing divergent paths have in common: sitting or rising, departing or staying, speaking or silent, above the sky or beneath the earth, as far as possible inland or out to sea, in day’s broad light or night’s obscure darkness, “even there shall your hand lead me, and your right hand shall hold me” (Psalm 139:1-12). God has changed none since making us the pinnacle of creation in which there is no divide limiting his presence or power to one side or the other (James 1:16-18).

Our choices may be monumental, determining a final outflow, or inconsequential, affecting nothing more than which stream feeds the same river. But our faith is in a God whose goodness extends boundlessly beyond both horizons.

This week, may monumental consequences and infinitesimal distinctions turn our faith toward the heavens which are over all.