By Kieran Lin Rich – KRich13@bellsouth.net

Utterly baffled.  That’s what we were.  Wednesday morning Jeff and I stood, shivering violently, in the rental car garage at the airport in Omaha, Nebraska.  We had rented a car but, due to a series of unfortunate events, (Belonging to the rental company, not us.) we were still waiting for our car 30 minutes after signing that final, accident insurance, “we can mess up your life so you’d better just accept - or you will die” waiver at the rental counter.

It didn’t help that Wednesday was one of those classically cold, raw days that screams “SPRING” in Nebraska-speak.  The weather report when we left home had promised that our trip would be a fair-weather one.  So, of course, we believed them and dressed the part of the clueless tourists — wearing t-shirts and light jackets.  The report had said nothing about the seemingly gale-force winds that were whipping through the parking garage, making our fingers numb and our faces raw.

But it wasn’t the weather that baffled us.  Forecasts get blown all the time.  It wasn’t the the speed (Or definite lack thereof.) at which the rental car company was dispatching our car.  They already had our money.  Why on earth should they feel any urgency? 

No, what baffled us was the personnel at the nameless rental car company.  Apparently, the bulk of their customer service training was in the fine art of pushing hot dogs.

“Our car wash just got fixed.  They’re running your car through right now…would you like a hot dog?”

“I just came from the lot.  They’re bringing your car right over.  How about a hot dog?”

“We understand that you’re frustrated and have hypothermia, Mrs. Rich.  We would like to have the opportunity to make it up to you.  Would you like relish on that hot dog?” asked the Head Weiner Pusher.

Ok…so I made up the last one…but we honestly were offered hot dogs by no fewer than three different “Customer Care Specialists” as we stood waiting for our car.  Gracious, people!  When, and more to the point WHY, did you merge with Oscar Mayer?

In my mind, I pictured their customer service training.  I could see a white board full of if/then statements:

IF customer doesn’t get the right car THEN offer them a hot dog.

IF customer’s reservation is lost THEN offer them a hot dog.

IF there is no rental car to be had THEN offer hot dogs ad nauseaum until we are able to build customer a car or at the very least rent a car from Avis. 

IF customer got up at 2 AM to get to the airport in time for a 6 AM flight AND they are tired and angry because they have been waiting for half an hour for their car to be washed AND are frozen to the bone because it’s spring in Nebraska THEN offer them a hot dog.

We finally did get our mid-size SUV.  And we got it for the price of a compact car because yours truly had a micro-burst of temper after the third hot dog offer.  I was good…honest.  All I said to the Customer Care Specialist was, “This is getting ridiculous!”  And it was.

We drove away from the airport shaking our heads and wondering how it was that a rental car company came to be hot dog pushers.  In the “What I Wish I Could Have Said” game that we tend to play after frustrating experiences, Jeff’s best line was, “If I wanted a hot dog, I would have gone to a hot dog stand.  I wanted a rental car…that’s why I came to a place that is supposed to rent them!”

And I wished I could have told them in the midst of our long, cold wait we had decided to forgo the SUV entirely and could they please just fork over the keys to the Weinermobile?

So, with the aid of a car rental company and their hot dogs, Jeff and I made yet another lasting memory.  We also have a new semi-private joke between us.   As I was complaining about a workout injury a few nights ago, Jeff’s sympathetic response was, “Would you like a hot dog?” 

Yesterday, we went to a local bookstore to get Jeff some new reading material.  I love bookstores and was enjoying my time of simply wandering among the stacks.  However, I was totally amazed at the sheer number of self-help, “fix-your-life-by-buying-this-book”  books.  It was insane.

And then I thought about the talk shows and the vast number of people that believe if they heard it on Oprah, it must be so.

Then my mind jumped to a book that I’m reading.  One of the characters is a young teenager who dyes her hair blue and eats until she throws up in a futile effort to fill a fathomless void that she feels in her soul.

And all these things make me ask one question.  Why?

 Why do we look for answers in the latest self-help book?  Why do we believe the gospel of Oprah and shun the Gospel of Jesus Christ?  Why do we repeatedly seek forgiveness from those who won’t give it; and yet refuse to confess and ask for absolution from the One who is aching to cleanse us from all unrighteousness?   Why do we believe that comfort and security come from friends or family or activity or busy schedules or wealth or possessions or food or alcohol?  Why do we look for things where they are not?  Just…why?

 I’ve spent a lot of my life searching for answers where no answers exist; and peace where only chaos reigns.  But there is one rule that I have learned and try really hard to put into practice.  Comfort and peace and security and safety and love and about a million other things can be found  in the strong arms of Jesus.   To look anywhere else seems foolish at best and makes about as much sense as going to a rental car company for a hot dog.

Have a good week but if something does go wrong…just have a hot dog!

By Kieran Lin Rich – KRich13@bellsouth.net

I decided last week that I didn’t want to be “Kiera” anymore.  It’s just not natural and it’s just not me.  Yes, I do realize that I am opening myself up to a lifetime of correcting people about how to pronounce my name; but it’s better this way — at least that’s what I keep telling myself.  Regardless, I’m back to just being me and it’s good.  So I’ll suck it up and start the “This is how to pronouce ‘Kieran’” lessons again  — which, in case you’re wondering, most people will totally ignore these lessons as they merrily call me “Karen”. 

The whole “repeal the nickname” act took a bit of a leap because I like “Kiera”.  I really do.  I liked that people got “Kiera” and didn’t stumble over the pronunciation.  I liked that the mere sight of the abbreviated version of my name did not cause people to randomly add extra syllables and consonants.  I also was a little wistful because Jeff is the one that gave me “Kiera” as a nickname.  I told him the other night that he can continue to use it — an offer that I have not extended to anyone else.

So with a new name and a new attitude, I was feeling a little bold this week.  Just a little, mind you…but it was enough to cause me to do something very un-Kieran like.  Very un-Kiera like too — just in case you’re wondering.  I prayed at the airport.  Now, I realize that a lot of praying goes on at airports and yes, prayer is definitely standard for me somewhere between the safety-briefing and the rumble down the runway.  But this prayer was a bit different.  This prayer was with someone.

His name was Brian and he had a lot of personal stuff going on.  I know this because he was sitting next to me in the terminal and his cellphone was on the fritz so he was yelling at the top of his lungs as he left a voice mail for someone that ended with, “Please keep me in your prayers.” 

I’m very good at hunkering down in my little turtle shell and ignoring the outside world, and I regretfully admit that was my initial reaction.  However, my reaction didn’t last long before God began to nag.  If there’s one thing I’ve learned in my lifetime it is that when God asks you to do something, you’d better just do it.  If you ignore Him, He’ll bring it around again and again and again…ad nauseum.  So I sighed, took a deep breath, opened my mouth, and sounded like a complete idiot. 

The next thing I knew I was uttering something like “I usually don’t eavesdrop on people’s conversations but do you mind if I pray for you?”  Brian looked a little shocked.  However, I’m thinking he looked nowhere near as shocked as I did.  I’m just not one to talk to strangers at the airport — let alone offer to pray for them.

But that’s what we did.  I talked to Brian a little more about his situation and he asked how he could pray for me.  Then we, two complete strangers, bowed our heads together and we prayed.

I doubt I will ever see Brian again but I’m glad we talked and I am so glad we prayed together.  His welcoming response to my awkward, albeit genuine stab at living boldly for Christ gave me hope and the courage to shed the shell and try again sometime soon — although, please God not too soon, ok?  I’m still recovering!

There is a line from an old Don Moen song that goes something like this.  “Be strong and take courage.  Do not fear or be dismayed.”  That song has been running through my head as I wrote my blog today so I decided to look up the scripture that it was based on.  I found Psalm 31:24 fairly easily.  The NIV version said, “Be strong and take heart, all you who hope in the LORD.”  But it was the Message translation that really caught my eye.  It says, “Be brave. Be strong. Don’t give up. Expect God to get here soon.”

Expect God to get here soon.  God’s Kingdom wants to come to earth through us.  I wonder how many times before I have succumbed to being turtle-like and ignoring the opportunity to be bold (Or anything else for that matter!) for Christ.  Unfortunately, I can answer pretty easily.  Too often.  Too often I ignore God’s still, small voice.  I blunder through life hiding in my shell because I’m afraid to do anything else.  But this week, I did something different.  I lived with courage.  I stepped out in faith.  I prayed with a stranger.  I was strong and I was brave.  I didn’t give up and I allowed the Holy Spirit to work through me.  After all this time, I finally got it right.

Expect God to get here soon.  Whether I am Kiera or Kieran or Karen or even Kierstin or Kiran, I am ready.  Come Lord Jesus, come.  I  am so, SO ready.

And Brian?  I’m still praying for you, Bro.  I hope you knocked their socks off!

By Kiera Rich – KRich13@bellsouth.net

I was feeling a little under the weather yesterday morning.  So instead of doing my usual Saturday stuff, I sat on the couch with the remote, a big fuzzy blanket, and two even fuzzier cats.  Feeling gross always makes me reach for the familiar and the comfortable.  Yesterday was no exception as I surfed through the channels looking for Saturday morning cartoon re-runs.  Everything from my childhood seems to be coming back into style including, unfortunately, leg-warmers , so I figured my search for mindless brain-candy would be short.

The search itself was indeed short.  The results were too.  I didn’t find anything.  As I lay on the couch weighed down by 20+ plus pounds of feline love,  I wondered, “Where has all the good stuff gone?”  The only cartoons I found were totally obnoxious.  The characters were rude and annoying.  The story-lines were not the least bit clever or engaging.  Every show that I flipped through seemed to be about as entertaining as a root canal.  My retro-wannabe self was thoroughly disgusted.

I finally turned off the TV and drifted off into a half-sleep kind of haze, thinking all the while of my childhood — back in the day when Saturday mornings were special and fun.

If you were a kid in the 70’s, chances are you watched something from the creative brains of Sid & Marty Krofft.  I loved pretty much everything they ever did.  “Wonderbug”, “Sigmund & the Sea Monsters”, “H.R. Pufnstuf”, and “Land of the Lost” were some of the staples of my Saturday mornings.  Wrapped up in all of their disco-era, psychadelic glory were some really good life lessons.  Dinosaurs bad.  Wonder Bug good.  If you find a sea monster, hide him in your closet.  Beware of kooky old witches — especially if you have a magic, golden flute.  And most importantly, I learned who my friend was when things got rough.  Why it’s H.R. PufnStuf, of course!

While I loved the real-life action, story-lines, and amazing special effects of the Sid & Marty Krofft shows, the simple animation and humor of the Acme PowerHour made me a devoted follower of that too.  If you’re not familiar with the Acme PowerHour, let me sum it up for you.  Wiley E. Coyote sets his sights on having road runner for dinner.  Wiley spies THE Road Runner.  A fictitious Latin caption, such as “Burn-em upus asphaltus” comes up on the screen to describe the Road Runner.  And then for approximately 6 minutes, Wiley chases the Road Runner with help from Acme — a company that makes torpedoes, bombs and, jet packs — all necessary things for capturing a road runner for dinner.  However, at the end of the day, the Road Runner is still “beep, beeping” and Wiley is still hungry.

EVERY episode pretty much went like that and yet I watched every one of them and never got bored.  There was something very intoxicating about waiting to see what Wiley would come up with next.   His schemes were extremely intricate and creative.  However, I think if he was terribly honest with himself, Wiley would admit that he was never going to catch the Road Runner.  But he still schemed and he still chased and I still watched.  Every week.

Poor Wiley.  You would think after a while that he’d get a clue.  He would come up with these plans,  he’d fly through the air strapped to a rocket or shoot off a cliff with jet-powered roller skates.  And finally, FINALLY he would catch up to that pesky Road runner.  But then something would happen.  Wiley would commit one terrible mistake.  He would look down.  He would simply look down and for the first time he would realize that he was in mid-air with no safety net — which would cause him to plummet unceremoniously to the earth. 

I do consider myself to be somewhat scholarly so it pains me to admit to my 6 faithful readers that I was in college before I discovered that “acme” was a real word with a real definition.  It wasn’t just a company that supplied explosives to crazy, calorie-deficient coyotes.

I’ve been thinking a lot about Wiley lately because of a personal goal I have for 2009.  I want to run a 5k.  To that end, I started a training program about a month ago.  The program takes you through the steps of conditioning a body to run a competitive race.  It’s been a really good experience.

Each step of the program has a specific formula of time spent walking and time running.  You do the workouts three times on non-consecutive days and then you move on to the next step.  I found out early on that I can’t allow myself to look ahead at the workouts.  For me, that was simply surrender waiting to happen.  So now, I look at the next workout the night before I actually do it.  And my reaction every time is exactly the same.  I read the workout.  I blink.  I shake my head.  I re-read the workout and then I say,  “I can’t do that!”

But then I get on the treadmill and I follow the program and at the end, I’ve found that not only CAN I do that workout, I can do it well.  And I can do it two more times and then next week, I can do a harder workout.

Has it been easy?  Not in the least!  I’m a little over halfway through the program and have found it very interesting that the physical portion of the experience has been a piece of cake compared to the mental portion.  I’ve learned that my body is in much better shape than I’ve given it credit for.  I’ve also learned that my brain stands ready to override and sabotage my body at every turn with two simple words, “I can’t.”

If I’m not focused on the distance or how many minutes I still have left in my run, time moves along in an orderly fashion; but only if I make myself keep my eyes straight ahead.  Because if  look down, even once, to check my progress, time stands absolutely still and my mind begins to make my body think it’s going to shrivel up and die.   The real trick, I’ve found, is not making my legs run, it’s making my brain shut-up and just go along for the ride.

I’ve always thought that, out of all of Jesus’ original 12 disciples I was probably the most like Peter.  I love Peter.  He was such a mess of wonderful contradictions.  He was prideful at times and easily lost sight of what was important.  Even when he wanted, with all his heart, to give up everything and follow Jesus, he failed.  I am an awful lot like Peter.

There is a familiar story toward the end of Matthew 14 in which Peter and the other disciples are out in a boat when a storm comes up.  In the midst of the crashing waves, Jesus begins walking toward the diciples’ boat.  The disciples are certain that they have seen a ghost and are very afraid.  But then Jesus speaks to them saying, “It’s Me!  Don’t be scared!”

But Peter, being Peter — he has to have proof.  “Lord, if it’s really you,” Peter says, “Tell me to walk to You.”  Which Jesus does and Peter begins to walk on the water.  But then something happens.  Peter takes his eyes off Jesus, looks down at the crashing waves, and like a rock, begins to sink.

Jesus, of course, reaches into the water and saves Peter; but not without a little life lesson.  “You of little faith,” Jesus said, “why did you doubt?”

That’s a really good question.  Why did Peter doubt?  Because he was afraid?  Because he lacked faith?  Because he lacked trust?  Was it satan?  Did Peter get a fish caught between his toes?  There are so many potential reasons that it’s hard to pin his reaction on just one.  But whatever the reason, Peter made one crucial mistake.  He took his eyes off Jesus and he looked down.

I’m trying to learn from Peter and not take my eyes off Jesus.  It’s impossibly difficult at times when so many things vie for my line of sight — even good things like writing Sunday school curriculum and training for a 5k.  At times, I feel like I’m drowning in a sea of details and “to-do” lists while the voice inside my head repeatedly screams, “I can’t!”  There are definitely times when I wonder if it’s worth it and I just want to throw my hands in the air and quit.  But every time I do, Jesus is there, reaching into the water, pulling me out, and asking me why I doubted in the first place and imploring me to keep my eyes focused on Him.

And so I begin 2009 with a goal, a lesson learned, and a brand-new motto — courtesy of two great teachers:  Peter and Wiley E. Coyote.  Don’t look down!

Happy New Year!

By Jeff Rich – RichJ44@bellsouth.net

Disclaimer:  I’m afraid you’re in for another edition of the Jeffrey Blog(tm) this week.  Kiera is very busily working on a new Sunday School curriculum and Friday night, in an attempt to lower her stress level, I innocently asked “What can I do to help?”

“Well…you could clean the bathrooms tomorrow, that would help” she said.  Gulp…but ok, I can do that.  And I did ask how I could help.  Not a big deal, really.

“And you could write my Blog on Sunday!” 

My heart skipped a beat.  I mean, yeah, I offered to help but blogging?  That was a low blow.   But then I figured if she wants to inflict my writing on her adoring audience, I’ll do my best.  As I sit here typing this, I can hear her pounding away on her own keyboard as she tries to meet her curriculum deadline. 

But she owes me.  )  Now on to the blog!

The time of year being what it is, this blog is about college football.  I’m a nearly lifelong Florida Gator fan.  It all started when my big brother went to UF back in the mid 60’s and continued when my little brother went there in the 80’s, and it just never stopped.  As a Gator fan, I’ve learned to live with countless disappointments and failings by their football team.  “Wait til next year” was pretty much the battle cry for all Gator fans everywhere.  Until recently.

Over the last 15 years or so, they’ve consistently had some pretty good teams.  Even won a couple of national championships.  But even so, there has always been something lacking.  Call it heart.  Call it killer instinct (we’re talking sports, so that’s considered a good thing in this instance).  Whatever, it still meant that no matter how good the team, Florida would always find a way to blow a big game…or even a little game…that they should have won.  They even backed into both of the National Championship games that they won.  Each time they lost a late season game they shouldn’t have, but were lucky enough that all the teams above them lost too, putting them back into contention.  So there was always a flaw there for this team, and I thought I’d never see it change.

This season, Florida is 12-1.  They just beat #1 ranked Alabama in the SEC title game, and appear to be headed to another National Championship game, probably against Oklahoma.  And yes, earlier in the year they lost a game to a team they probably should have beaten, but it was back in September, 9 games ago.   Since then they have seemingly been transformed into a powerhouse.  No late season choke.  No “shoulda woulda coulda”.   No lucking into the Championship game.  Just taking care of business, showing a degree of toughness and heart that I can’t ever remember seeing from a Gator football team. 

So what happened to the “flawed” Gators  I had come to know and love?  I don’t know for certain.  But I suspect  the reason had a lot to do with their quarterback, Tim Tebow, and this statement he made shortly after their only loss:  Tim Tebow apology

I admit, when I first saw the video (which I was unable to find a link to unfortunately) I was torn between rolling my eyes and feeling sorry for him.  If it were anyone else I would have thought it was unbelievably corny.  But having watched Tebow for the last couple of years, I knew he meant every word.  It was obvious how much he was hurting but I didn’t see how he could possibly live up his statement. 

But you know what?  I apparently misjudged and underestimated his ability as a leader; his ability to get his entire team to live up to the statement he made.  Florida has been a markedly different team since Tebow made that statement.   They have absolutely played their hardest and their best since that day.  They have shown heart and courage and toughness that I’ve never seen from a Gator football team.

Kiera pointed out something to me earlier this year as we were watching one of the Gator games.  On one of the many closeups they showed of Tim Tebow, you could clearly see his face.  You know the black grease many players like to wear under their eyes?  There was something written in white on his.

I looked closer and read “Phil 4:13″.  I’m not the Bible scholar my wife is, so I had to ask what the verse said.  The answer, of course, is:

Phillipians 4:13 (New King James Version) “I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.”

I’m not sure when he started doing that.  I’ve gone back through some old pictures, and he definitely didn’t have it there last season.  I don’t think he had it for the first few games of this season.  I may be wrong, but I suspect that he added that after their loss, and after his apology. 

Anyone who follows college football has heard plenty about Tim Tebow and his devout Christianity.  I’m not going to go into all the wonderful things he’s done, both before and during his time at Florida.  It’s well documented, and if you haven’t heard, do yourself a favor and do an internet search for “Tim Tebow and faith, or beliefs, or Christianity” etc.  This is honestly a young man who is totally committed to his Lord and Savior and wants the whole world to know it. 

Do I think that God particularly cares about the Florida Gators record?  Of course not.  I’m not saying God has rewarded the Gators because their quarterback has a Bible verse stenciled on his face every Saturday.  But I do believe that their quarterback, their leader, is the type of man who believes so strongly in Jesus Christ  that he is indeed able to accomplish all things through Him.  Even getting a team that was notorious for being weak-willed, prone to losing focus, choking, giving up, losing heart -  however you want to describe it – to play harder and more courageously and with more heart than ever before.  And the obvious  result of that is a nine game winning streak, national Media attention, and a chance for a third National Championship.  But look beneath the obvious, and what do you find?

You find a young man who, through his unwavering devotion to Christ and his eagerness to proclaim that devotion at every opportunity, is being given an ever bigger stage from which to proclaim it.  Bigger games.  More attention from the media nationwide.  More articles about Tim Tebow, and not coincidentally, the faith and devotion to Christ which drives everything he does.  And ultimately more glory to our Lord. 

Let’s not kid ourselves…if Florida’s record was 1-12 instead of 12-1 no one outside of the most faithful Gator fans would have ever heard of Tim Tebow.   But it’s not.  

“I can do all things through Christ who strengthens me.” 

I truly believe Tebow is able to accomplish his goals because of his reliance on Jesus Christ our Savior.   I couldn’t be happier that Tim has become a role model not only for me; but, more importantly he’s also become a role model for little kids all over the country.  In response, I think God is probably saying, “Well done, good and faithful servant.”

But in my humanness, I can only say one thing. “Go Gators!  Go change the world.”

Click here for more information on Tim and his work off the football field.

By Kiera Rich – KRich13@bellsouth.net
We live in a very special apartment complex.  The management cares about each of it’s residents and really goes out of the way to give them a happy home.  I know this because of a recent improvement project that was undertaken.  Did the management choose to remodel their “State of the Art” fitness center?  I wish.  I also wish I knew what ”State of the Art” looks like in 2008, because we have a lovely specimen of what it looked like in 1988. 

Did the powers that be decide to address the problem of the all-you-can-eat termite buffet that graces our lives (And our walls.) every spring?  Maybe they replaced the community barbeque grills?  Those things could absolutely use a remodel, as the last person to cook on them also drew little stick-figures on the walls of their cave.  Those grills are just nasty!  Granted, there truly is nothing like the smell of freshly grilled salmonella in the spring!

Did the management create a dog park so our canine neighbors would have somewhere to do their duty instead of in front of the community mailboxes?  Nope.  Those improvements, practical as they are, were put on the shelf for something bigger and better!

I have to hand it to them.  They really thought outside the box on this improvement.  I didn’t even realize there was a need for an improvement, that’s how cutting-edge the idea was!  And now, I have the privilege to be the first to tell you the big news. Are you ready?  Make sure you’re sitting down because this is a momentous improvement.  Drum roll, please!  The big capital improvement campaign for this year was….the dumpster.

That’s right!  The dumpster.  Remember, you heard it here first!

Because the dumpster is near the only exit and entrance to our complex, we had front row seats to its transformation.  We watched in confused fascination as the improvements began to take place.  First the old fence surrounding the dumpster came down.  It was replaced with a cute little substitute.  Nothing says, “Home Sweet Home” like a plastic, white, lattice fence.  Next came the new dumpster itself.  Shiny green and ready for action.  Next, we got new flood lights.  Four of them – which bathe the whole area in a cozy, ambient glow.  The complex is fairly well lit anyway, so I must confess that I was a little mystified by this improvement.

Thankfully, Jeff was quick to explain.  “Health-conscious raccoons,” he stated.  “They need the light to read labels on the stuff they pull out of the trash so they can make sure they’re not eating trans-fat.”  Smart little things, those raccoons.

The final improvement was perplexing too — even to Jeff.  The wise and wonderful people who own and manage our apartment complex built a very nice deck by the dumpster.  A deck.  No, it’s not a step to get one closer to the point of dumping.  That would have actually made sense.  It also might fix the problem we have with the hot shots shooting air balls with their Hefty bags.  No, this deck is at the remote end of the dumpster.  As it went up, we actually waited for them to add a little bistro set — maybe with one of those umbrella tables.  We figured they would begin serving lemonade and cookies to us each time we came home.  But alas, we were wrong again. 

Every summer many communities around the globe do Shakespeare in outdoor theaters.  Throughout my college years, I attended a festival called “Shakespeare on the Green.”  It was a beautiful thing — watching a classic under the stars.

Finally, finally, FINALLY it dawned on Jeff and I that our deck was not a deck but actually a balcony.  And what better use for a balcony than to stage a production of that age-old love story, “Romeo and Juliet.”  We could call it “Shakespeare on the Green Dumpster.”  We would invite all the raccoons…well, except for the foamy-mouthed ones.  We would serve trans-fat free snacks at intermission.  It would be a wonderful celebration!  People would travel from miles around to watch the show!  It would become a yearly tradition!  We could sell tickets and…

Are we to the point in this blog where you are convinced that I’ve totally lost my mind?  Well, I haven’t.  Not yet, anyway.  But are you with me on this?  Doesn’t planning a performance of Shakespere for non-rabid woodland creatures who care deeply about their cardiovascular health, make slightly more sense than trying to beautify a trash dumpster?    We could plate the thing in 24 karat gold; but, the reality would still be the same.  It would still be a container of filthy, stinky, rotting trash.

I dated a guy once who I thought was quite the catch.  He was handsome and polite.  He was smart and interesting.  Everyone loved him — including me, for a while.  But inside this amazing package was one of the ugliest people I’ve ever known.  And it took me so long to realize it because I was focused on his outward appearances instead of what was inside.

The world tells us that image is all that matters.  God tells a different story in 1 Samuel 16:7.   “But the LORD said to Samuel, ‘Do not consider his appearance or his height, for I have rejected him. The LORD does not look at the things man looks at. Man looks at the outward appearance, but the LORD looks at the heart.’

So, what has God seen in your heart this week?  Has it been loving thoughts toward your spouse and children?  Has it been kind words (Spoken or not.) to that person at work who seems to do nothing but cause trouble?  Has it been the joy that comes from spending time in prayer with the One who made you?  Or has it been the other thoughts.  The prideful, mean, selfish, hateful, jealous, angry kinda thoughts?

I’ve had both kinds this week.  But one afternoon, as I was mentally re-hashing some earlier events, I found myself trying to put a better “spin” on my mean thoughts and even, believe it or not, on my mean words.  Finally, God was able to break through the candy-coating that I was cooking up.  He remind me that no matter how I package my sin, it’s still just that.  Sin.  It’s ugly and rotten and filthy and it smells.

Our dumpster is really a sight to behold.  Look me up if you’re ever in Atlanta and I’ll give you a personal tour.  Be sure to come at night so you can experience the lights and raccoons.

As much as I laugh about the insanity of sprucing up the dumpster, it has also become a good reminder for me.  On a normal day, I pass it at least twice.  Each time I leave or come home, I am reminded about God and the sin that separates me from Him.  I am also reminded of the price that was paid and the love that was freely given to me.  But most importantly, I am reminded that I need to be honest and accountable and quit trying to package my sin as something it is not.  God knows better and I need to quit acting as if I can pull one over on Him.

Our dumpster is a stinky, rotting, infested mess of filthy trash.  And it always will be just that –  no matter how pretty we try to make it.

By Kiera Rich – KRich13@bellsouth.net

Happy Easter!

For many years I spent Holy Week giving birth (Figuratively!) to an Easter production.  Usually our last performance was on Saturday night and so Easter Sunday was celebrated with Worship, a long, hot bath and an even longer nap.  Don’t get me wrong!  I loved those productions and cherish the memories and the people I worked with; it was just really exhausting.

When I first started working with the Easter week dramas, the final performance was always on Easter Sunday.   It usually hit me when I was laying in bed on that Sunday night, too exhausted to sleep, I had missed Easter!  It had come and gone and I missed it.  I would get so involved in the process of putting on a production that I lost sight of the reason for the production in the first place.

So my first act of rebellion when I was put in charge of the Easter Week dramas was to change the day of the final performance.  Of course, there were a few complaints but mostly people were just grateful.  They could be in the production and yet have freedom to scoot out of town to spend Easter Sunday with family.  Cast members could actually Worship on Easter Sunday rather than being worried about finding their props (Always tricky with lots of kids in the cast!) and getting into costumes and make-up.  And I could slow down and let down and really think about the reason for Easter — which was something that I found it very hard to do when I was the one in charge.

In writing Easter productions, I’ve given the events surrounding the trial, death, and resurrection of Jesus a lot of thought.  One of the things I’ve often thought about was all those people who cheered as Jesus rode into town on that donkey.  I’ve wondered who they were and what their lives were like.  I’ve wondered about their families and their beliefs.  But mostly I’ve wondered how they could be so clueless. 

I’ve also done a lot of wondering about the disciples.  They spent time with Jesus and yet they didn’t know Him.  Jesus repeatedly told them what was about to happen but they didn’t get it.  Jesus revealed His identity to His closest followers.  Yet Peter denied that he even knew Jesus and Judas still chose to betray Him.  How could they be so clueless?

Jesus was right under the collective nose of the world and they didn’t see Him for who or what He was.  It’s pretty easy for me to sit back, with the wisdom and experience of 2000 plus years and say, “I would never do that!  I would listen.  I would know.  I would understand.  I would get it.  I would not be clueless.”

Good in theory but in practice?  Not so much.  If I had been alive back then, I would have ignored Him.  I would have mocked Him and spit on Him.  I would have denied and betrayed Him.  I would have called for Him to be crucified.  I would not have had the slightest clue that the Son of God was in my midst.

The reason that I know these things is simple.  That’s a fair picture of my life right now.   I can’t tell you how often my words, or lack thereof, have betrayed Him.  I can’t even begin to guess the number of times that my actions have denied that I even know Him.   Jesus has been right there and I have missed Him.  I have ignored opportunities to draw closer to Him.  I have disregarded chances to join Him in His work.  Albeit not in the flesh, but Jesus has been in my midst.  And I have been clueless.

Today’s blog is another first because we have a visual aid!  I would like for you to watch a short You-Tube video and be sure to follow the instructions.  Click here to watch and the video will open in a new browser window.  Please do not continue to read until you’ve watched the video.

So how many passes did you count?  I counted 13.  I got it right — or so I thought.  But I completely missed the break-dancing bear.  I even watched the video again to make sure the bear hadn’t been just slipped in at the end.  Yet there he was in all his furry glory and I was clueless.

It’s impossible not to miss Jesus when I concentrate on too many other things.  Even if those things are good, healthy, important things it still takes my attention away from the only thing that really matters.  My relationship with my Savior, Jesus Christ.

And so on this Resurrection Sunday, I leave you with some homework.  (Another first for Kiera’s blog!)

Slow down.  Rest.  Take a deep breath.  Celebrate the miracle of Easter.  Spend some time in private, Holy conversation and communion with Jesus.  He’s right there.  Right under your nose.  Waiting for you to notice Him.  Our Redeemer does indeed live!  Don’t be clueless.

Happy Easter!