Permanence

March 4, 2020

I’ve always been impressed by beautiful architecture. I love the soaring ceilings of cathedrals, the beauty of eighteenth century English manor houses or nineteenth-century American Victorian or Gregorian homes. It doesn’t take a large city to be adorned with beautiful old buildings that were once the stately homes of the well-to-do. Unfortunately, most of them today have been either subdivided into low-rent apartments, turned into office buildings, or allowed to simply deteriorate to the point where demolition is the only reasonable next step.

It’s a shame, but it’s been that way since the beginning of recorded history. Usually the destruction of such dwellings and civic buildings has been the result of warfare and conquest, but in the last fifty years, “progress” has been as destructive as warfare as entire neighborhoods have been razed for urban renewal, leaving large swaths of property a bleak and barren Soviet-style landscape. 

Tucked in toward the end of Luke 19 is an incident recorded by all three synoptic Gospel writers. Matthew tells the story in chapter 24, Mark in chapter 13, and here in Luke. Looking at the impressive architecture of Herod’s temple complex and the Fortress Antonia, Jesus was unimpressed. “I tell you, one stone shall not be left upon another,” was his evaluation. 

Europe boasts buildings—castles and cathedrals dating back nearly a thousand years. Egypt has its pyramids, but they weren’t built for human habitation, at least for the living.  Most of the architecture we admire is at most, three hundred years old. Here in America, three hundred years is about the limit. Most of what is a part of our daily lives clocks in at only about 150 years old, tops. 

Our home was built around 1853. We have photos of it taken around the turn of the last century. The exterior is recognizable, but with a few changes. Our chimney is where a door used to be; an entry room, enclosed back porch, and our new bedroom have all been added, but the basics are still evident. Internally, much has changed. We can trace some of it in the patterns of the floorboards, and when we renovated, we could see where interior doors had once been. We’ve completely remodeled, making it our own. I don’t like to think of the day when it will return to the dust from which it came. It will likely be long after we have done the same, but I still don’t like to think of it. Jesus’ words about Jerusalem echo down to the present day: the things that seem so permanent are in reality, quite ephemeral. In spite of how we usually choose to live, investing in that which shall not last is never a wise proposition. 

I love our home, but it too, shall one day disappear, along with all the things inside it that we value. Nothing of it is eternal except the people who have lived here, and who live here still. It’s good to know this so we don’t make the mistake of valuing the stuff more than the souls who inhabit not only our home, but all those that dot this village, this county, this world. I’m grateful for this morning’s Scriptural reminder to make sure my priorities and values are in order. It’s easy to mistake earthly beauty for the permanence found only in Christ and his Kingdom.