The oldest cure for doomscrolling in one lyric

For nearly 20 years, the same sentence has greeted me every morning. It first appeared on a yellow Post-it note stuck to the door of my office in Nashville. When my wife and I moved to Montana, the note came with us. Eventually, the paper curled and the ink faded, so my wife had the words beautifully rendered in calligraphy and framed. A culture that ceases to ponder the character of God will…