I’m thinking that dead faith stinks in the nostrils of God like the dead possum I passed on the road the other day (on my bike; how long can you hold your breath climbing a 10% grade?).  I don’t want to go there again – with God, or past that possum.  And I hope He doesn’t have a clothes pin with my name on it.

It occurs to me that what we have come to call “inspiration” is the faith of Christ rising up in us.  I was recently “inspired” by Francis Chan’s book, Crazy Love.  My question:  If I don’t respond with the work of faith, how long do I have before “faith without works is dead” kicks in? 

Your servant and His,

P.S.  Okay, I’ve just got to say that I am amazed at how many pictures of “possum road kill” can be found on Flickr.  What are people thinking?  Tip of the day:  Don’t go there (at least not within two hours of a meal).