It's Me God, Jerry.

This . . .
I was living in Madison house in Wichita, Kansas with Brian, Doug, Jim, Gayle and Schoon. One evening while walking with my Golden Retriever, Gandolph, I came across a dead possum in the yard. I knew it was dead because Gandolph ran right up to it barking as ferociously as he could and it didn't even move a bit. No one wants a dead possum in their yard, so I picked it up by the tail and flunged it over the back fence as far as I could. It landed with a thump. I went inside to tell someone, and when we came out to look, it was gone. You got it, a possum playing possum.
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That . . .
Today was trash day, so I was gathering up the trash this morning when I discoverd a dead possum in one of the trash cans. I knew it was dead, because it stinketh. I am talking stinky stink. I put a bag of trash over it and took the can to the street hoping the trashmen would just toss the whole thing in the truck possum and all. Well, when I came home at noon there was the trash can with the possum still in it. Only now, the possum was looking at me. I took it across the street and dumped it out realizing it just couldn't get out. It happily ran off into the woods to take a bath I hope. At the bottom of the can was a bag of poopy cat litter which explained the stink.
You got it, a possum playing possum.
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This is That . . .
Believers in Jesus don't usually play dead, but I fear we often play alive. It's called pride. We really care what people think, and we want them to think that we lead great Christian lives and that we are way, way, OK . . . Great in God's eyes when maybe we're not.
I don't want people to just THINK I am alive,
I want God to KNOW I'm alive.
Like a song says,
I don't want to talk ABOUT Jesus like He's not in the room,
I want to talk TO Him face to face.
How bad would it be to stand before God and say, "Boy you wouldn't believe how great I was in the eyes of all the believers down there."
And God might say, "Now what was your name again?"