I had an opportunity to travel to Ireland recently.
It was one of those once in a lifetime trips. I’d always wanted to go. I’d heard the stories of the breathtaking views, the rocky shorelines, and the lush green fields. And the castles.
To be honest, it was the castles that most intrigued me. I’d never really had the chance to see anything quite like them. Some of the castles were so old not much remained other than a few moss-covered walls and imagination of what they’d once been. Some, of more recent vintage, spoke of a time of luxury and indulgence.
But the castles shared a striking commonality. It seemed that every builder sought a place of refuge, of safety, of permanence. Some tried harder than others and built on rocky crags hard to scale and hard to attack. Some picked great heights while others picked a wide-open view to better see their enemies.
It was as if each builder thought they could build something that could last.
The rubble testified of their failure.
It seems that no matter how hard we try that nothing we build in this life remains. How we need to hear this message over and over again. Our castles crumble. Indeed, we have this treasure in jars of clay—even castles—to show that the surpassing power belongs to God and not to us.
Living with this eternal mindset should compel us to make life here a reflection of God’s heart. Did we act justly and live with mercy? Did our hearts break for the pain in the world, and did we stand up to make a difference? Possessions, stature in society, and anything else we rest our security in will fail, so why not live what will last!