Relax.  This is not a blog post about Parisian or Czech fashion.  But I did get your attention, right?

My wife and I just returned from one of those Viking River cruises through the heart of Europe.  We flew into Paris and out of Prague spending nine days cruising the Rivers and visiting the Christmas markets in Southern Germany.  It was amazing…and exhausting.  

I had never heard of the term “gluhwein” before, but every Christmas market in Trier, Cochem, Heidelberg, Rothenburg, Bamberg, Nuremberg, and Prague sold it.  What is it?  Gluhwein translated means glow wine and is essentially a spiced-up hot wine, much like mulled cider,  sold during the Christmas season.  If you have ever spent a December in Germany, you will understand why this hot wine is a favorite drink in the open-air Christmas markets.

During our trip preparation, we read several travel articles.  One suggested we save our old underwear — the ones with holes and tears — and wear them during our trip abroad.  But before returning, throw them away and create space in our luggage for souvenirs.  On our last night in Prague, my wife pointed out how worn and ragged the hem had become on my favorite pair of flannel pajama bottoms.  She suggested I leave them in Prague.  I suspect she just wanted more space for her souvenirs.

Discarding old underwear and pajamas reminded me that every lifestyle has an element of “disposables.”  Everything eventually wears out, breaks down, or simply goes out of fashion. But living in a world of disposables can be spiritually draining. I recall the words of Ecclesiastes, “Vanity of vanities! All is vanity.” (Eccl 1:1).  One might ask — if everything is disposable, is there any meaning or purpose in life? Are there no absolutes?  Is there anything that doesn’t rot, wear out, or perish?

One of the places we frequently visited — other than Christmas markets — were the magnificent cathedrals.  Every tour in every town had us walking into these striking architectural wonders of religious history.  Most of these sacred structures had been built BEFORE America had won its independence. Most were hundreds of years old.  All were awe-inspiring.  Their breadth and depth and height drew one’s eyes and heart heavenward. If the size and scope of the structure didn’t overwhelm you, the attention to detail mesmerized you.  The buttressed walls, stained glass windows, and iconic artwork added to the beauty of these sacred spaces.

Sadly, for various reasons, most Europeans have walked away from the Church today. They have discarded their faith like old torn underwear, no longer useful, no longer functional.

I readily admit I cannot express fully how impressive these centuries-old churches are.  In a world of disposables and gluhwein, I found a certain attraction within these stone buildings.  More than just marvels of medieval architecture or monuments of a religious past, everything about them drew my eyes and heart heavenward.  Entering these sanctuaries, this weary soul found a heightened sense of peace. We paused for prayer, lit candles for our loved ones, and spoke in whispers in reverence and respect for others present.  Here, material things do not matter.  Here, you sense the presence of the Holy, the warmth and grandeur of a God who shelters us — a Rock of Ages, a bulwark never failing.

Yes, these physical structures may one day be torn down or destroyed by war.  But today, these wonders of worship reminded me that life has meaning and purpose when centered on that which is ever-lasting and non-disposable.