When I was a boy and attended the movie theater, the order was something like this: first, a newsreel, followed by a serial (like the Green Hornet), then the main attraction. The newsreel was entitled, “Time Marches On.” Time doesn’t stand still, yet many have not realized this in their lives as yet, or maybe they just stubbornly refuse to acknowledge it. People such as this are cemented in their pasts.
I’ve met scores of souls that were, so to speak, held in time. That is, they’re imprisoned in a self-concocted time capsule. There is a point in their personal history they have been unable to move past, or either decline to do so. They occupy their little prison cell with the likes of bitterness, grudge, and hatred. These undesirables are counted as close friends. Bosom-buddies, who occupy most of their waking hours.
They can never move on with their lives for the chain that holds them. A chain of their own making and to which they have the key, but will not use it. They choose to wallow in the mire of self-pity thinking those on the outside will visit them, listening to their same old sad stories year after year. But it is not long before they find the visitor’s seat unoccupied, and they’re left to stew in their own wretchedness alone.
Once you turn the key of faith, you can go on your way singing, “My chains fell off, my heart was free, I rose, went forth, and followed thee.”
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