Truth That Abides (Friday Devotional)

“Heaven and earth will pass away, but my words will not pass away.”

- Mark 13:31

Just over two months ago, ground broke on Globe Life Field, the roofed, air-conditioned, publicly funded baseball palace that will serve as the home of the Texas Rangers beginning in 2020. The groundbreaking was celebrated by many, from players to front office staff to, especially, fans, all of whom excitedly anticipated the day when Globe Life Park, the Rangers’ home for the past 23 years, would be replaced with a shinier new model.

I was not and am not one of those excited fans. For one thing, I don’t think Globe Life Park has reached its expiration date yet—it may not measure up to some of the newest ballparks in the majors, but it’s still in fine condition, nowhere near the decrepitude of Tampa Bay or Oakland’s pitiful stadiums. Secondly, count me out of the group celebrating the roof and air conditioning. Baseball is the one professional sport still played outside by the majority of teams, and, while it may make me old-fashioned, I like it that way. Playing indoors is certainly more comfortable, but it’s also more sterile and commercial, and for me that takes away from the pastoral magic of America’s oldest game. (Note: I’m fully aware that I’ll probably change my mind on this point the first time I go to a July game in the new ballpark.) Finally, while I know the Houston Astros are the toast of the state right now, this Rangers fan can’t help but be annoyed by how similar our new stadium will look to the home our cross-state rivals.

But the truth is that none of these reasons are really why I’m disappointed about the new ballpark. The real reason is nostalgia. I grew up going to games at the current ballpark, with its red brick exterior, bad parking, gigantic escalators, and right field Jumbotron. It’s where I learned the rules of the sport, where I saw my favorite players make their mark, and, yes, where I sweated profusely in the Texas sun, summer after summer. I always assumed my kids would grow up watching games in the same place. I knew “The Ballpark” (as I’ve called it since childhood) wouldn’t last forever…but I always sort of hoped it would.

There are certain fundamental things we take for granted in this world, things we assume will always be there, from the air we breathe to the ground we walk on to, sure, the ballparks we frequent every summer. We rely upon these things for some sort of continuity from day to day; we depend on them to anchor us in a world rife with unreliability and inconsistency. But the truth is that everything, from buildings to institutions to people, passes away eventually; nothing is forever. Nothing, that is, except the Word of God. “Heaven and earth will pass away,” Jesus said (a point echoed in the final chapters of Revelation), “but my words will not pass away.”

Every day, consciously or unconsciously, you choose what foundations you will build your life upon. Are you building on the shifting sands of career, or family, or health? Or is your life governed by the only thing that will remain when everything else fades away? In a world that changes daily, a world where the one thing that is truly dependable is undependability, only the words of Christ—his commands, his warnings and his encouragements—abide eternally. Don’t rely upon the unreliable or depend on the temporary—place your faith in that which endures forever.