Thy Kingdom, Thy Will
Kingdoms rise and fall. We know that from our history books. We see that in the ancient ruins of civilizations past. There are cities we will never know about, never find, and never hear about, because they have been forgotten in a whisper of the moment. I have walked down the marble streets of Ephesus, seeing the perfectly carved stones, broken in half, buried in the mud.
Did they ever think their bookcases and toilets would be the photo opportunity for a kingdom far beyond their own? Another people, trudging through the rotten bones of their warm homes and beloved bars. Did they ever stop to ponder whether their kingdom was not built to last, but rather was built upon decay? Did they prepare themselves to have their couches and linens strewn about the dusty alley, for strangers to behold?
No. They did not.
As we do not give it much thought. We do not imagine the time when our kingdom of ceramic sinks and coffee shops will also be unrecognizable ruins. When our anxious paper envelopes of bills will have been disintegrated by the sun and rain. Where our career choices and breakfast cereals will be forgotten.
Our Kingdoms are buried, and our will turns to dust.
This is the truth of the ages, hidden from ourselves by our own progress and pride. Or ignorance. But we keep saying our short-sighted prayers, hoping that our kingdom endure and our will be obeyed. Still, the city in rubble testifies. The grandmother who aches with lung cancer testifies. Our kingdom is not our own. And our will doesn’t last.
Pray then like this: “Our Father in heaven, hallowed be your name. Your kingdom come, your will be done, on earth as it is in heaven.” (Matthew 6:9-10)
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