In my living room, there are two places that hold the attention of pretty much anybody that enters the room.  There’s a small dish of candy on an end table that’s very colorful, inviting… almost tempting.  And on the coffee table in front of the couch, there’s an ‘old school’ jar, complete with chromed metal screw top lid, filled to the brim with all sorts of candy goodness.  The small dish has some sort of colorful candy… very similar to the weird assortment your grandmother carries in her purse (a few miscellaneous peppermints covered in lint and hair, those powder candies that come in small rolls, and a few brick-shaped, brick-flavored candies of various colors).  The jar, however, is a wild temptress.  There are colors and shines and textures and amazing wrapper technology in that jar that do nothing but hold attention.  It’s like sirens in the water, calling me to open the jar and take the amazing candy inside.   Strangely, the song I always hear the jar singing out to me is ‘Rock On,’ by David Essex.

I don’t talk about candy just to talk about candy.  I know that’s a terrible joke, but the candy is a metaphor (thank you biblical languages class for teaching me what that is).  I wonder this… what am I filled with?  And furthermore, what are people seeing in me?  It’s pretty obvious that we’re all a little bit like the candy depositories in my living room in one way or another.   Not that we’ve all been in grandma’s purse and are covered in hair.  But more like this… One jar is somewhat inviting, but upon closer investigation, there’s nothing worth much value.  But in the other… it’s inviting from a distance, but it seems to draw you in as you get closer, and have nothing but good on the inside.  Gosh, I want to be that jar.  Or maybe I just want that tootsie roll.  Thoughts?

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