An Old Soul

Today as I walked out of an eatery, a young bearded guy held the door open for me.  I thought at first that maybe he had a Moma like mine who taught him to hold the door for old people.  Maybe he looked at me coming to the door and thought, "I guess I better give a hand to that old geezer like my Moma told me to do!"  While I am a seventy year old who sometimes wonders who is looking back at him in the mirror, I really don't see myself as being old.  It must be that I see myself differently than the young guy holding the door.

 

I wonder how my soul looks.  While no one has ever really seen it, God surely gets a good look at it every day.  I wonder what He sees when He looks at the innermost part of my heart and spiritual being.  Does He see a soul stained and scared by too many encounters with temptation and sin?  Does He see a soul that has not really grown into a mature looking soul as it should have after all these years?  I wonder if it appears beaten up, or more like something that is fit and in good shape.

 

I sometimes wonder why I ever wonder such things.  Is life so boring that it is necessary to create impossible things to consider?  While I am not sure what God sees as it looks at my soul, I am hoping He sees a soul that shows not scars and stains, but one which appears as something made clean by the blood of His Son on the cross and the divine mercy which fills His heart.  My hope is that what He has forgiven, He has removed as far from His memory as the east is from the west.  As the old songs goes, "My hope is built on nothing less, than Jesus' blood and righteousness...."