As I stare into the mirror, I see objectively—sans ego—a weathered face that has endured seventy-two summers and winters. I see a body that is betraying the ghost that moves this pen. Each day, each hour, each minute, time seems to abrade my exterior with debilitating constancy.
The apostle warns us of this betrayal, this inevitable breakdown of the earthly body. Paul calls it a “bondage of corruption.” Not an ethical corruption of the spirit for us the elect, but an enslavement to a deteriorating earthen house. At present, it is as if we are existing in an adobe house that is melting down, back into the elemental clay.
Precious Sheep Of Renown 