I privileged to experience the Toyota Center for the first time this past weekend. It’s an awesome structure, enormous and solid, a strong example of human ingenuity. I have no idea how far I was raised above ground level, but I know that there were very little seats higher. Looking down toward the basketball court, I noticed the giants were like ants to me. And, although they were seemingly miles away, the air was exceptionally clear so there was no hindrance to my gaze. I watched the game with enjoyable clarity.
It was an experience to remember. Yet, it was still very forgettable. I felt no urgency to scream and cheer. I didn’t angst at false calls. I didn’t leap at spectacular shots. In fact, with all of the glamour that it proposed, my soul was untouched. I left through the same doors that I entered. The same was true of my heart. The bright lights, tasty food, loud music, rowdy people, professional players, and the architectural design of the building were no match for my Lord.
Each moment away from Him is drowned by the yearning of my soul waiting most impatiently for the next time I may spend sitting at the feet of my Lord. Oh, how I love my quiet time. Here, my soul tastes of the Lord and is reminded of His goodness. It is stirred to a degree that all other things, though they may be of earthly good, are not impressive in any significant way.
The evening inside this center reminded me of the little I must do with the world in order to be stirred by God’s presence. I need only Him and a quiet room. The things of the world, though they can be quite impressive, are not moving to the soul.