Hands of the Living God

With respects and gratitude to the good folks over at the David Phelps Message Boards, I will occasionally be taking some of their Daily Bible Study verses and making my own comments here on Soulscape. In this way, I will be able to make extended comments without taking up so much space on the message board. Plus, it’s easier on me and my time to take someone else’s suggestion and run with it! Just kidding, folks! Hope you enjoy, and hope you are blessed through Soulscape!

Hebrews 10:30-31
For we know Him who said, “Vengeance is Mine, I will repay,” says the Lord. And again, “The LORD will judge His people.” It is a fearful thing to fall into the hands of the living God.

Our natural tendency is to strike out at those who hurt us. “You hurt me, I’ll hurt you just as much, or worse.” But as Christians, we are called to a new and different life, a life that is opposite of our human nature. It’s impossible to achieve this through our own willpower, through positive thinking or anything else we can do. We accomplish this ability to “turn the other cheek,” if you will, my making the conscious choice to allow the Lord to strengthen us in situations where we want to attack.

I’ve heard all my life that vengeance belongs to the Lord and that He will work everything out when we stand before Him. But sometimes the waiting is hard. We pray, “Lord, I know that one of these days you will make them pay for what they did to me, but could you let it happen right now so I can see it?” We want to watch someone who hurt us go down in flames, so we can laugh and say, “See? Told ya so! You’re getting what you deserve!” But that is not the attitude to have, either.

While vengeance does indeed belong to the Lord, the verses above hold far more than just a promise to set right all the wrongs done to God’s children. These verses reveal deep truths and comfort for the believer, as well as a warning for the unbeliever. I would like to cover just two for now.

THE LORD IS EVER WATCHFUL
We have a tendency to act on impulse; if a friend says someone said or did something to them, we immediately want to go after that other person. We may call it a reflex, reacting to anything and everything, without knowing (or contemplating) the facts of the matter. How many times have we heard that a years-long conflict was due entirely to a simple misunderstanding? Well, the Lord watches over all of us, and knows all the facts.

This might seem a bit scary to some, that Someone is always watching. But actually, it should bring the child of God comfort. No matter if we do some good or helpful act that no one ever sees, or if we are wronged, the Lord will repay us accordingly. He is the Righteous Judge, and since He knows not only the outward but the inward man, we can rest in the assurance that He will judge every person righteously. There will be no mistakes, no loopholes with the Lord’s judgment?

Aren’t you glad that even when people misunderstand you or your motives, when you try so hard but seem to fail so miserably, that Jesus is looking out for you and knows your heart? No matter if it’s behind the scenes or out in the open, we have the knowledge that we are in good hands, the best hands, the hands that bear the nail scars meant for us.

THE FACT OF JUSTICE
The same truth that gives the child of God hope, also gives a warning to those who reject Christ. Unlike other world religions, our Lord stretched His arms out and died for our sins. In love, He offers us the salvation His blood purchased for us on Calvary. But He forces no one to accept Him. That is our choice.

But those same hands which bear the scars of the cross and of our sin bring with them the responsibility to answer for our choice. Time and again we are told in God’s Word that we are to fear the Lord. This fear is a respect of God and His power. I respect a firearm enough to know that I need to handle it with care. I respect the weather enough to seek shelter when a storm approaches. For my own safety I make decisions out of respect for the power of these things. The same goes for God.

We must respect the Lord Jesus Christ and the price He paid for the remission of our sins, because He is alive, and is our Holy and Righteous Judge. Those same hands that were nailed to the cross, those same hands that lovingly hold us in our times of distress and protect us in our times of danger, are the same hands which will hand out God’s justice. When we stand before the Lord, we will look at those hands. Depending on whether we accept Christ as our Savior or not will determine whether those hands will be extended to us as a welcome, or will point us away to our eternal punishment.

We must respect the fact that the Lord is the final judge. Our family and friends, our history, no one or no thing is qualified to judge us. No one, that is, except Jesus. As a pastor I have used these verses to illustrate the great need the sinner needs for Christ. But I take great comfort from these same verses. To know that the God of All Creation is watching over “little ol’ me” is very humbling, but makes me feel that I have a purpose in His plan. While I am tempted to sometimes pray that God’s judgment would fall on those who wrong me, I try to resist the temptation and pray instead that their hearts would be turned before it’s too late.

One day, when my time on earth comes to an end, I will look forward to falling into the hands of my living God, because I know that through Christ, those hands will hug me up close to the Father, and will welcome me home. What a loving and gracious Lord we serve, who would not have us figure it out for ourselves, but would tell us, would show us exactly what we need and what to expect. I am glad I can say with the writer of Hebrews, “For I know Him who said” these things. I invite you to meet Him for the first time. And if you already know Him, I invite you to get to know Him better.

© 2006, Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press. All rights reserved. All material printed on this site is protected by the copyright law of the United States. It may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed, published or broadcast without the prior written permission of Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press, obtainable by writing to soulscape@alltel.net. Altering or removing any trademark, copyright or other notice from copies of the content is not permitted. Any and all portions of material copied from the Soulscape Blog must be properly attributed to Chris Keeton and Soulscape, and cited with original blog web address.

WARNING: Political Content Ahead

I ask that you permit me to once more move away from an entirely religious theme and share something that has been on my mind for a while. I am fascinated by politics and observing human behavior, and while this entry is more “political” than you may expect to find here at Soulscape, I promise to get back into spiritual and scriptural discussions next time.

As many municipalities have done in recent months and years, my hometown’s city commissioners voted to enact a smoking ban in all public places, such as restaurants, offices, anywhere people gather. As an asthmatic and the father of an asthma-stricken child, I support this decision and look forward to enjoying an evening out without the haze and effects of cigarette smoke. Others, though, do not share my enthusiasm for the coming of October and the beginning of the ban.

What is truly worthy of note here (from a sociological perspective) is the great divide which has expanded and further pushed people apart. Each day leading up to the commission vote, I looked forward to perusing the “Letters to the Editor” in the local paper, certain I would find letters from both sides of the issue, most letters containing vicious attacks toward the other side.

“Studies have shown that second-hand smoke contains many harmful chemicals, and those exposed to second-hand smoke are being subjected to dangerous health conditions.”

“There have been no studies which indicate second-hand smoke is dangerous at all. The air in homes and on the highways is more deadly. No facts exist which prove any danger at all to non-smokers.”

“This ordinance is being enacted to protect the health of everyone in the community.”

“This ordinance serves no other purpose than to destroy the rights of smokers.”

Reading the abundance of letters, conversing with friends from “both sides of the aisle,” I was astounded by how deeply the issue ran. At the extremes, there were two sides: 1) smoking is an evil which is killing innocent people; and 2) this is a fundamental threat to civil liberties and personal choice.

Is it just me, or has this argument left the level of sanity and dipped its toes in the pool of the absurd? I used this story as only one example, but there are today countless examples where we see the same principles in action: Democrat versus Republican, pro- and anti-war, Leno or Letterman, stereotypical cavemen as compared to the ones in those annoying Geico commercials.

The arguments which are being witnessed today are no longer about what’s best for the community or the nation. They are no longer about open discussion and dialogue from opposing viewpoints, with decisions based on understanding. Everything seems to take on the characteristics of a fight instead of a debate. The prevailing attitude is, “We’re right, the other side is wrong and evil, and if you don’t take my view, you’re disgracing the common good.”

From my perspective, it seems that this country (and on a broader scope, the entire world) is imposing some kind of self-segregation. Though not as much focused on race as they once were, other things have filled the gap and have served to separate and isolate us from one another.

I’ve heard, and even been accused myself, that those in favor of the smoking-ban ordinance or various conservative causes are attempting to usurp the constitutional rights of those who disagree with us. We are accused of lacking compassion, of being narrow-minded or bigoted in our beliefs. Unfortunately, some of the more radical on our side of the aisle say the same things about those saying those things against us. And thus the cycle continues.

As far as the smoking ordinance, there is absolutely no doubt that smoking is an individual choice; there is no gene that predisposes a newborn to grow up into a smoker. There are arguments that certain behaviors, lifestyles or characteristics affect no one but the individual, and while I will keep my opinions on some of these to myself (in the interests of time as well as the overall focus of this entry), smoking does affect other people. As I mentioned at the onset, there were always people from both sides saying there were and were not facts on the issue. It became less about health than it did personal freedom. And it became less about personal freedom than it did keeping up the argument and the fighting.

We live in the greatest country on earth, heirs to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. But as the years go by, there is more of a push to legalize, condone or endorse certain behaviors and practices which are harmful (in many different ways), all in the name of “preserving personal liberty.”

But whether you agree or not, whether you believe in Jesus Christ as your Savior or even if you don’t believe in any God at all, whether you believe this country was founded on Christian principles, any free society must hold to certain moral absolutes. The horizons have been, and continue to be, blurred, the lines of decency and right have been skewed. But in order to succeed, the changes must occur slowly. And it is not one group or one party that is responsible. All of us are responsible.

I remember an old story about a frog and boiling water. Drop the frog in a pot of boiling water, and it will jump out. Place the same frog in cool water and slowly increase the temperature in the pot, and the frog will stay and die. We do live in the land of the free, but that freedom must have boundaries.

Let’s say I have no problem with kidnapping and murder. For discussion’s sake, let us say that I wish to engage in such behavior. For anyone, the government, religion or anyone else to condemn me is to step on my personal freedoms, and infringes on my basic human and American rights. Now, that’s just plain absurd. There are rights and there are wrongs, and there’s nothing we can do about it. Murder is wrong no matter how you justify it; it always has been and it always will be.

I do not agree with much of what is taking place in this country and in this world. I am not one to blindly vote party, no matter what my affiliation might be. I look at the important issues, and vote for the person who I feel would best meet the needs of the people in an honorable and moral way, regardless of party. I understand that in today’s world religion and politics are often at odds, and while this is sometimes frustrating I am glad we live in a country such as this.

When it comes down to it, any activity that truly can harm those around you is no longer a question of personal liberty. It is about doing what is morally right. For those who raise such clamor over the Pledge of Allegiance, prayer in schools, the separation of church and state, of what and whose moral standard to use, I would say the following:

Saying the words, “one nation, under God,” praying before a ball game or graduation, and public officials serving the people in a room with the Ten Commandments on the wall, these things do no real harm to anyone. You do not have to participate, you don’t have to listen, you don’t have to agree. I am a pastor, a minister of the Gospel of Jesus Christ, and I will tell you of my faith and your need of a Savior. But I will not force you to accept my faith. Again, my decision doesn’t harm you.

To use the original example once more to illustrate my overall point, to those who protest so loudly, “Respect the rights of smokers!” I would simply say this, “Respect the rights of those who don’t.” If you choose to engage in harmful behavior, that is your decision, and you must own the consequences. It is not for me to tell you that you can’t do those things that are within the moral and civil law. I can offer God’s Word, and advise you to look to the Lord for guidance, and tell you my beliefs, but I do ask for respect and understanding, the same respect and understanding you yourself seek from me.

The only way to begin healing the rifts in our homes, communities and our nation, is to engage in debate, not argument. We must respect one another and look to the common good. There are absolutes, no matter how we try to avoid them. Let us look beyond the moment, let us look past personalities and stop taking things personally.

One of the closest friends I have in this world could not be more different than me in many areas that divide our country and world. But we are very much alike, and have never let our differences stand in the way of our friendship. We share, we discuss, and we go on. My desire is to see the country I love so much adopt a similar attitude.

While I may be able to get a fresher breath of air after October 1st, I think the true breath of fresh air we all need is to examine ourselves, put our animosity aside, and allow mutual compassion and respect be our guides.

© 2006, Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press. All rights reserved. All material printed on this site is protected by the copyright law of the United States. It may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed, published or broadcast without the prior written permission of Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press, obtainable by writing to soulscape@alltel.net. Altering or removing any trademark, copyright or other notice from copies of the content is not permitted. Any and all portions of material copied from the Soulscape Blog must be properly attributed to Chris Keeton and Soulscape, and cited with original blog web address.

+5

There will be no shortage today of stories, remembrances or reflections of September 11, 2001. Still, I feel compelled to add my own. Forgive the length I anticipate this entry to be. If it’s too long, feel free to quit reading and go somewhere else. If it’s not, then read on.

It was just another day, another half-hour drive to work at a bank. The sky was a beautiful blue over the gentle rolling Kentucky hills, the sun still rising behind me, accentuating the mid-September weather drawing closer to autumn. I turned off the interstate, had been listening to NPR’s Morning Edition as I did every morning during the 25-mile trip. Just another mile to go before starting another day at the bank, opening accounts, counting deposits, dealing with customers.

Two days before, I had resigned as co-pastor of my church, accompanying the resignation of my grandfather (after almost 14 years as pastor). The church had decided to vote the following Sunday, deciding whether I would be the next pastor. If they selected me for that position, then I was only a few weeks away from resigning from my job at the bank. Several people had moved on in recent months, so the entire work environment was different. Yes, this week would certainly bring some changes.

I opened the drive-through lanes at exactly 8:00 AM, as was my responsibility every other week. There were night deposits to run, early customers getting some cash on their way to their own workplaces, paperwork to arrange before it needed to be sent to the main office. A Tuesday morning in mid-September at a bank in a tiny eastern Kentucky town was not exactly Grand Central Station, so after about fifteen minutes, things calmed down dramatically.

Just a few minutes before 9:00 AM, the lobby was opened, a few customers waiting to come in. Calvin, from the gas station down the road, and others were talking amongst themselves, waiting to conduct their own morning routine of making deposits and getting change. As I was mindlessly running the transactions, I heard someone say through the drive-up window’s speaker, “Did you hear about that plane hitting the World Trade Center?”

Immediately I left my customer and went back to my desk (I was running double-duty at that time: teller and customer service rep). Powering on my computer, I immediately went to msnbc.com and saw the picture of the first tower burning, the black gaping wound on the building a sinister smile, almost in anticipation of what was about to happen. It was 9:01.

I returned to my customer and finished the transaction, a few more people coming in, the regulars we expected every morning. About ten minutes later, our courier came in on his morning run. He said, “Did you hear about the World Trade Center?” I said that we had, and that I saw the picture of the tower. I commented about how I couldn’t understand how a plane could hit the building, and he said, “There was another plane.” Immediately I understood what he meant, at least on a subconscious level. The intellectual side of my mind began screaming, “You have to see! This can’t be happening!”

I returned to my computer, smacking the keyboard, that annoying screensaver disappearing and the web browser showing the same image I’d left: two towers, one hole, black smoke. I clicked refresh and … nothing. I clicked again … nothing. A low, guttural sound came out of my mouth as I tried again, only with the same results. I tried other web outlets: CNN, Fox, ABC, with no luck. I decided to try MSNBC one more time. This time a page loaded, the explosion in the second tower in plain view, and the words, “Due to high traffic volume, many features may not function properly.”

Of all the people who have a passion for history, a love of my country, and a fair talent with technology, wouldn’t you know it would be me who could get no information; we didn’t have the ability to get Internet information, we had no television. All we had was a radio that I’m certain had been used at one time to bring the modern sounds of disco to some leisure-suit clad youngster years before.

As I searched the dial (yes, the ‘dial’) I was dialing my home phone number. My wife answered, and I told her to turn on the television. Another line began to ring, so I answered it. It was my mother, asking me if I’d heard the news. So, here’s a bank employee, one hand on a radio Moses could have taken on the Exodus, my neck bent as I hold the telephone receiver against my shoulder, my left index finger punching buttons as I switched phone lines between my wife and mother.

I was done for the day, and fortunately my co-workers understood and pretty much left me alone. I wanted to go home, to see the images described to me via radio and phone. I knew that while Internet traffic would be off the charts, the bank traffic would be almost nothing (I believe, besides the few corporate customers we had during the day, we only had about six or seven regular customers all day). But I had to stay. I’ve always enjoyed listening to the radio, or hearing stories, my mind putting images with the words, making it come alive in my imagination.

Today, the images wouldn’t come.

The texture of the night deposit safe remains still in my mind, cold and rough, much like the feeling within my heart as I listened to the radio and my wife’s voice on the telephone. I kept trying to reconcile the descriptions with the only image I had seen of the towers, the moment of the second impact. Then my wife said, “One of the towers just collapsed.” I said, “You mean part of one of the towers fell off?” She replied, “No, one of the towers collapsed.”

Still, I would not, I could not imagine it. In my mind I could see the floors above the impact simply falling off the top of the structure, crashing onto the buildings and people below. I said again, “The top of the building, where the plane hit. That fell off?” Then my wife said the words that will remain etched in my mind for the rest of my life, words that made me finally understand.

“Chris, the building no longer exists.”

At that moment my mind opened, and I saw a building falling, the images of a sideways fall and a vertical collapse intermingling. I was numb, there were no words. I wanted to run across the street to the appliance store and get in front of a television. I told my wife I loved her, and I would call her back. My mother had long since hung up, calling her brother who was a basket case, having lived near New York several years before.

I had never been to New York, knew the World Trade Center as those two tall buildings in the pictures, my first real memory of anything concerned with the WTC coming after a sleep over at my best friend’s house. Early that February morning of 1993, images of soot-covered people being led to ambulances hidden by smoke and chaos, people shaken and wounded, such a contrast with the snowflakes peacefully and gently falling all around them. “Terrorism, huh? That’s wild. Let’s go listen to some music.” Not a great impact on a teen-ager.

Now, even though I had only been married a little less than a year, and no children planned anytime soon, I realized that our world had changed, that my children would never grow up in a world that I was already beginning to forget, a world of relative innocence and safety. If it could happen in New York, it could happen in the small towns of the heartland, in my own backyard, where a terrorist attack would truly inflict terror upon my broken nation.

I sat transfixed, looking at the small radio speaker as if it were a large-screen TV, when word came of an attack on the Pentagon, and reports of another plane inbound toward Washington. I imagined the horror surrounding the heart of the Armed Forces, and what I knew would follow: an airplane destroying our Capital or the White House. I am known for remaining pretty calm even in the midst of tragedy and chaos, but at this moment, I lost control.

The tears began, and they wouldn’t stop. What was happening? Has the Lord finally had enough and is He bringing this country to its knees? I knew we were at war, that it wouldn’t be over for years, maybe not even in my lifetime. Our arrogance had finally caught up with us, and God was truly bringing us to our knees.

At that moment I knew what needed to be done. I began making phone calls to pastors in my area, organizing a prayer service for that night. In just over an hour, a service was scheduled. Never had a day gone so slowly. At 4:30, I left the bank and drove home as quickly as the law allowed. I came into our apartment and finally saw the images I could only picture in my mind, but it was so different, so much more. There was nothing much to say.

I knew I needed to prepare some remarks for the service, that the community and its many churches would be looking to the Lord and to their pastors for comfort and strength. As I arrived at the church (we held the service at the largest church in the community), I was amazed at the number of people already there. All barriers had come down when those buildings fell, and as we began, hundreds and hundreds of people had gathered.

As my chance came to speak, I walked to the pulpit, looked out on the faces that were just as anguished, confused and determined as I felt myself. I remember saying something along these lines:

Our world has changed, and thousands of our fellow citizens have been called to stand before God. They didn’t expect to meet Him today, so we can only hope that they were prepared. We don’t know how many perished, but God’s protective hand was still seen in the thousands who survived. Tomorrow may bring more attacks, more terror, but we here tonight join our hearts in prayer and faith. We trust that no matter what tomorrow holds, we will hold to Jesus. We may meet next year in remembrance of this day, we may once again come to this place to mark the five-year or ten-year anniversary; some of us may be here, others of us may have already been called home. But as time passes and the grief abates, we will never forget. My prayer is that we continue to fall before the Lord as we are doing right now, and that we will seek to be united in purpose, united in trust, and united in praise. May God bless America.

So, five years have passed. It seems like yesterday; it seems like a lifetime. Watching the reruns of that day, of television anchors delivering what information they were being given. Some of it was wrong, while other facts proved uncannily accurate. I watched today, seeing the images that are now familiar to us all. Yet for the countless times I’ve watched those images over the last half decade, I am not jaded. I caught myself weeping, trying to remember what America used to be and what it has now become. I was weeping for the lives lost and homes broken. I was weeping as I listened to one call made from United Flight 93, a woman calling her son, saying, “The plane’s been hijacked. I might not ever see you again, but I want you to know I love you.”

In some ways, America is still united, while in others it is more divided than ever. We are safer, but are still extremely vulnerable. We are determined, but know it is only a matter of time until we will face yet another tragedy. But there is one thing I believe America will never be: we will never be healed.

September 11, 2001, will remain an open wound for everyone who experienced it. As events unfolded, I felt a connection with every American, and every generation. I felt a closeness to my grandfather’s era, as families crowed around radios to listen to reports from the Japanese attack on Pearl Harbor sixty years before. But as tragic as that day was for America and the world, our world is smaller; the attacks weren’t against military personnel somewhere in the Pacific. The attacks were in our living rooms. While the vast majority of Americans were in their homes that fateful morning, it was like we were there.

Perhaps that is the greatest legacy of what we know as just “9/11.” Our worst day was also, in its own way, our best day. Heroes were made that day. Many of them never left the carnage, while others stand as the true example of an American. Some were made that day, and others have been made in the five years of aftermath. We honor our heroes by living our lives, looking back to remember, but also looking forward to what their sacrifice has inspired us to do.

And through it all, God has been here. He has helped protect us from similar or worse attacks, but we should never turn our back on Him again. There is so much left to do, so much closer to Him and to each other we can grow, another mile to walk for our brothers and sisters. Let us never forget the day, and the lessons we learned. And may we never forget to turn to Christ for our comfort, strength and hope.

© 2006, Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press. All rights reserved. All material printed on this site is protected by the copyright law of the United States. It may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed, published or broadcast without the prior written permission of Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press, obtainable by writing to soulscape@alltel.net. Altering or removing any trademark, copyright or other notice from copies of the content is not permitted. Any and all portions of material copied from the Soulscape Blog must be properly attributed to Chris Keeton and Soulscape, and cited with original blog web address.

Routines

All of us have our own little patterns, schedules we ferociously guard, whether official or unofficial. I am not necessarily referring to things like:

• Get up at X:YZ AM


• Go to work


• Have lunch


• Work until closing time

There are other things we do that are almost OCD in their repetition and in their placement in our daily lives. For instance, after I wait for my computer to finish booting up each morning, here’s what I do … always:

• I open my email program to check for new messages.


• I open my web browser and visit the same seventeen websites (in the same order, except on those pages which have links to other stories I need to check out).


• I write or study, taking time to attend to the needs of my son (who as I write this sentence requires my attention).


• Lather, rinse, repeat.

I get kind of bent out of shape if I don’t follow this pattern. I can’t help it; I just feel like something’s missing, that I’m forgetting something if I vary my routine. I’m one of those guys who sets his alarm, then rapidly checks it three to five times before being able to close my eyes and go to sleep. This is just who I am.

During one of those web browsing “ruts,” I like to check out MSNBC.com, especially the page “Today in History,” which is found on the Education home page. At the bottom of said page is a quote for the day, and I really liked this particular one from just a few days ago:

“The happiness of most people we know is not ruined by great catastrophes or fatal errors, but by the repetition of slowly destructive little things.” — Ernest Dimnet, French priest, lecturer and author (1866-1954).

This statement is so very true. As a pastor I have seen this exemplified in many lives over the years; even if I wasn’t a pastor, I would have seen the truth of Dimnet’s quote. I believe we all have the tendency to think that the only way we lose control of our life is when we make that one big mistake. It’s like we are that hapless cartoon character who turns down the alley marked “Dead End,” invariably crashing into the brick wall at the end of the alley.

Most of us suffer from “repetitive stress injuries” when it comes to our personal lives. When we notice how out of control our lives have become, the reason we’re often blind-sided is because our own choices and behavior have been so subtle that we haven’t noticed the harm being caused.

A few years ago I purchased my grandparents’ home and had an apartment built for them on the back of the house. The house was built at least 55 or 60 years ago, and I suppose building codes were different back then. Anyway, when construction began, an interesting (and potentially devastating) problem was discovered: the main house was over six inches out of square. To the layman, that might not sound so bad, but when it comes to construction, it’s terrible. Adjustments had to be made to the new construction in order for it to even be safe enough to inhabit.

I use this example to illustrate my point: you couldn’t see the problem because it was so slight, so subtle. But even the smallest deviation can have far-reaching consequences. If you have to walk in a straight line for a mile, if you turn to your right 1/8th of an inch each step, it doesn’t seem like much. But if you look back at your starting point at the end of your mile, you’ll discover just how far you’ve drifted.

So I would encourage you to examine your life every day. Don’t take anything for granted. Bad habits, poor choices, “…slowly destructive little things” no matter how slight they may seem at the time, can turn out far worse than we ever bargained for. But on the opposite side, good habits and the right choices can make a positive and lasting impact on ourselves and our world.

Get into the Bible, spend more time in prayer, make a greater effort to witness and share your testimony, and instead of self-destructing, you will be reinforcing your spiritual strength.

We all know someone whom we look upon with a shake of our head and a pitying frown, sadly lamenting, “Oh, how terrible for them. If they’d only made the right choices, or if they would have only seen where their path would take them …” If we take time for self-evaluation, we can avoid being on the receiving end of those looks and comments. So look at your routines, and think not about today, but about where you want to end up.

In the weeks ahead, I hope to share some thoughts with you that have come up in recent conversations I’ve had with several people. Perhaps we can also get into another Bible study and Scripture commentary. Wherever the Lord leads us, though, I look forward to sharing the journey with you.

© 2006, Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press. All rights reserved. All material printed on this site is protected by the copyright law of the United States. It may not be reproduced, distributed, transmitted, displayed, published or broadcast without the prior written permission of Chris Keeton and Soulscape Press, obtainable by writing to soulscape@alltel.net. Altering or removing any trademark, copyright or other notice from copies of the content is not permitted. Any and all portions of material copied from the Soulscape Blog must be properly attributed to Chris Keeton and Soulscape, and cited with original blog web address.