I lift the covers—rise.
set my feet on warm carpet;
For two minutes I stand—still
as a rock by the river—listening
to my mind as it starts up ten-thousand
trains at it's international railway station;
The old man is lying in bed—staring at
me, implying, “don’t leave me here, friend.”
Christ is in the closet—he’s a furry coat—with no
holes or tears yet--he looks brand new (although
He bought me years ago).
Still—one minute left—I stand between
the bed and closet door: The trains are
steering toward the one I left in bed but I know
the decision is mine--I am the conductor.
Still—thirty seconds—why is this
decision always so hard? I need the
coat, but the other guy is my best friend.
He seems to know me better—or at least I know him.
Still—done. No time left for thinking or train hopping.
I walk to the closet, put on Christ, leave the old man in bed.
22that, in reference to your former manner of life, you lay aside the old self, which is being corrupted in accordance with the lusts of deceit, 23and that you be renewed in the spirit of your mind, 24and put on the new self, which in the likeness of God has been created in righteousness and holiness of the truth.
26You are all sons of God through faith in Christ Jesus, 27for all of you who were baptized into Christ have clothed yourselves with Christ.
14Rather, clothe yourselves with the Lord Jesus Christ, and do not think about how to gratify the desires of the sinful nature.