What would it look like?

I am not young anymore.

I feel it in my bones. I started wearing bifocals a couple months ago. My conversations are peppered with an oft repeated"huh?" I take a peek at my IRA at the stock broker's web site and realize just how many earning years I have left.

Yep. I am growing older. Now, you couldn't tell by looking at me. I know I don't come close to looking my 34 years. While teaching CPR at a local high school a couple of weeks ago, some of the students mistook me for the new kid. I am used to it.

What's the key to my youthful appearance? Genes and exercise. That's all I can figure. But the latter sure isn't easy anymore. I am finding that I have to be at the gym nearly twice as long as I used to until just recently. But be there twice as much I shall because I don't want to look my age. I don't think it's really going to take away the age I am feeling on the inside, however. My knees still hurt. My eyesight still is going. The years still are ticking by.

Paul wrote about how earthly exercise brings few rewards and that we should be focusing on a spiritual regimen. Why is it that we will punish our bodies but not sweat a drop in prayer or reading our Bibles?

I think I should start measuring my Christianity by how many times I need to shower in a day. It would be a great day when, coming in from the garage and seeing me soaked head to toe, Glory asks me how long I worked out, and I could reply that the Lord and I had a great conversation. Even then I wouldn't mind getting strange looks by people wondering why I now have gray hair. Imagine Moses' family and friends when they saw him coming off the mountain after meeting with the Lord. That must have been quite the sight.

And I don't think he smelled all that good, either.


Bill