It's easy to say I'm a Christian. It's easy to go to church and sing worship songs and give a tithe and listen to a Sunday School lesson. It's easy to sponsor a child, go on a mission trip, tell the pastor "nice sermon." What's not easy is being nice to the next door neighbor. The lonely old guy who sits in his driveway, arms crossed, all day long, just waiting for someone to make the mistake of making eye contact. Much like our golden retrievers of past - if they catch you looking you're hooked. For hours sometimes. So I haven't been being nice - I've justified it that I'm feeling pressed, don't need to adopt another needy person, don't want to enable, blah, blah, blah then today the thought struck me - seriously - what if Jesus lived in my house? What would he do with the lonely old guy who sits in his driveway..... I took him a bowl of homemade ice cream, wished him a happy 4th of July, and oh the shame when he told me, "oh that's so nice of you, thanks so much." It's easy to say I'm a Christian. More than talk is the tough part. How I hate it, when I've cleaned up the outside, but what's inside - the yuckiness - is clear as day, even if it's just me and God looking.