Lent Day 4

Grant, Almighty God, that as you constantly remind us in your word, and have taught us by so many examples, that there is nothing permanent in this world, but that the things which seem the firmest tend to ruin, and instantly fall and of themselves vanish away, when by your breath you shake your strength in which men trust—O grant that we, being really subdued and humbled, may not rely on earthly things, but raise up our hearts and our thoughts to heaven, and there fix the anchor of our hope, and may all our thoughts abide there until at length, when you have led us through our course on earth, we shall be gathered into that celestial kingdom which has been obtained for us by the blood of your only begotten Son. Amen. — Prayer by John Calvin

Monday felt like I had smashed on the brake pedal. It is my Sabbath day.

My Mondays often felt like a vacuum—a sudden ejection of all work-related thoughts and actions. It felt like violence to my core being. I wanted to fill the emptiness with something else, some other kind of information and of knowing, like the news of the world.

But as I was working through my devotion today, I happened to John Calvin's prayer, and it stopped me: There is nothing permanent in this world, but that the things which seem the firmest tend to ruin, and instantly fall and of themselves vanish away...

I am treading on ruins. I surround myself with fading things and thoughts. I create schedules that do not anchor in eternity.

I wondered what it would look like if my life was truly subdued and humbled as Calvin prayed if I stopped making grandiose plans for my life and slowed myself down in order to inch toward heaven. I don't think we are meant to reach heaven speeding toward it; we can only walk there at 3 miles an hour. I see now that's how Jesus walked His life.

I spend the whole day in my LEGO room.