“The most impressive things on earth are ruins,” he said. “The four greatest structures ever built have now been reduced to a state of decay.” The Parthenon rising above the city of Athens is in ruins; the temple of Artemis in Ephesus is in ruins; the temple of Jerusalem is in ruins; the Colosseum in Rome may have been partially restored, but will never regain its former glory, for it, too, is in ruins. The splendor of the ancient world has decayed and disintegrated.

And as he speaks I ponder how we are drawn to ruins, how we are fascinated by these artifacts of what was once so beautiful, so splendid, so powerful a display of human power, opulence, and ingenuity.
Today we travel far and wide to visit the ruined remains of great buildings. No trip to Peru can ignore Machu Picchu, no trip to England can ignore Stonehenge, no trip to Cairo can ignore the Pyramids and the Sphinx. We stand and gaze and try to imagine what these buildings must have looked like in their prime. And like Percy Bysshe Shelley as he stood before the ruined remains of a statue of Ozymandias, we ponder the futility of enshrining our name and our reputation in something as flimsy as stone.
And it isn’t just buildings that fascinate us. As we study history we ponder the rise and fall of nations and entire civilizations. There was a time when the world’s greatest empire was Greece, though now the nation is mostly an afterthought in world affairs. The same is true of Egypt, Italy, and so many others. They were dominant for a time and ruled by fear, domination, and intimidation. And then they fell as quickly as they had risen, passed into obscurity as quickly as they had ascended to supremacy. We study them today to consider what caused their downfall. We visit them today to explore the remnants of their power, the ruins of their might.
And beyond buildings and civilizations, we study the ruins of human beings. We remain fascinated with figures like Napoleon who rose from relative obscurity to become the dominant figure in world affairs. Yet he died when he was still relatively young and generations of historians have been fascinated with what led to so catastrophic a downfall. Alexander the Great, Julius Caesar, Cleopatra—all had lives that were reduced to rubble, all died in ignominy rather than splendor and no study of ancient history is complete without considering their rise and fall, their ascendancy and ruin.
Truly, the most impressive things on earth are ruins. The most impressive civilizations are ruins. The greatest people are ruins. This is a world of ruins. And this teaches us that today’s most breathtaking buildings will also someday be ruins; the most powerful civilizations today will eventually be ruins; the greatest people today will inevitably be reduced to ruins. That’s just the way it is in this broken, beaten, battered world.
And then I ponder this: We are going to a city where there will be no ruins. The gates of pearl will never come unhinged. The streets of gold will never be torn up. The walls of jasper will never fall. The great temple will never lose its opulence. The many mansions will never crumble, never burn, never be destroyed. To the contrary, what is built there will last forever. The nation of God’s people will ascend without challenge and without interruption, and they will never be conquered, never be surpassed. No individual there will rise only to fall and then be remembered to history for his ignominious collapse.
As we ponder the rot and wreckage of this earth, let us remember, let us believe, and let us joyfully anticipate: We will leave this world of woe for a world of bliss, this world of ruins for a world without ruins.

Inspired by De Witt Talmage

May you know the Lord’s blessings this weekend!

(Yesterday on the blog: From Everlasting to Everlasting)
After the fire
“Our family was driving through the Var region of southern France recently, and we passed through an area that had been burned in a forest fire just last summer. The scars of that destruction were still clearly visible, but what was astonishing was the amount of green already bursting forth, the unstoppable life pushing through and undoing all the hard work of the forces of darkness.” There’s a lesson to be learned here.
Isn’t one enough?
This is encouraging. “Sometimes you just know the Lord is at work. That’s not to say he’s not at work when you don’t sense it. He’s always at work, after all. But sometimes, while he’s at work, he is at work in ways that are particularly noticeable.”
Desperate and Dependent
You may appreciate these pointers for prayer. “I can’t go to the store and purchase wisdom, character, integrity, honesty, diligence, perseverance, or salvation for my children or grandchildren, but I can ask God to give it. And so I ask.”
How Do You Know If You Love Jesus?
This article draws upon a good source to consider how you can be confident that you truly love the Lord.
What is the beatific vision?
You’ve probably heard the term “the beatific vision.” In this short video, Sinclair Ferguson explains what it is.
The Light of the World: How Jesus is Reaching International Students
This is an encouraging story about how the Lord is reaching international students.
Flashback: Behavior Both Odd and Ugly
I see the world through my own sin and project my sin upon others. I see my sin in them, even where it doesn’t exist. I unfairly and sinfully accuse them of my sin.

What then is holiness? Holiness is nothing but the implanting, writing and living out of the gospel in our souls. —John Owen

I have long observed that it is the rare individual who values completing a task as highly as beginning one. We are all good at setting out with great gusto, but so often, whether through poor planning or waning interest or even the vicissitudes of providence, we fail to complete what we’ve begun. If this is true of our minor plans and tasks, how much more the ones we thought might define our legacy on this earth. Thankfully this is not the case with the Lord, as this quote from F.B. Meyer so eloquently explains.

It is very seldom that man can look back on a finished lifework.
The chisel drops from the paralyzed hand ere the statue is complete; the chilling fingers refuse to guide the pen along another line, though the book is so nearly done; the statesman must leave his plans and far-reaching schemes to be completed by another, perhaps his rival.
But as from his cross Jesus Christ our Lord looked upon the work of redemption which he had undertaken, and in connection with which he had suffered even to the hiding of his Father’s face, he could not discover one stitch, or stone, or particle deficient.
For untold myriads for thee and me and all there was done that which never needed to be done again, but stood as an accomplished fact forevermore.