Man's Best Friend

The other day, our dog came into the kitchen from the backyard.  Now, I say "our dog" instead of "my dog" because I feel no personal connection to him.  While everyone else affectionately calls him "Buddy," it's not all that uncommon to hear me simply refer to him as "the dog."  Buddy is more often than not an outdoor dog, but he does come into the kitchen on a few occasions, such as stormy weather, extreme heat, or, as was the case the other day, freezing temperatures.  Being an outdoor dog, Buddy's presence brought with it a distinct and unique feature that I noticed almost as soon as he entered the kitchen.  That's right.  The smell.  His own personal aroma.  That wet-dog-who-rolls-in-dirt smell that seems to be a part of him - it never completely goes away.  While my brother informed me that he didn't smell anything, I found myself wanting to go to a different part of the house.

The word "aroma" is found forty-five times in the Bible (generally in regard to sacrifices).  Forty of those times are in Genesis through Numbers.  The last time the word "aroma" is used in the Old Testament is in Ezekiel 20:41a, where God speaks of bringing His people back after their exile.  '"As a pleasing aroma I will accept you, when I bring you out from the peoples and gather you out of the countries where you have been scattered.'"  The next time we see the word "aroma" is also the last time it is used in the Bible, and the only time in the New Testament.  Paul writes, "But thanks be to God, who in Christ always leads us in triumphal procession, and through us spreads the fragrance of the knowledge of him everywhere.  For we are the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing, to one a fragrance from death to death, to the other a fragrance from life to life..." (2 Corinthians 2:14-16, emphasis added).  In Paul's day, triumphal processions were sometimes led by victorious kings, parading their booty and captives before the citizens of the land.  During these processions, sacrifices would be offered, giving an "aroma" of incense.  For some captives, this was an aroma of life, because their lives would be spared.  For other captives, the aroma was the smell of death - they knew they would be killed as enemies.  The entire procession was to make known the victory of the king, and the aroma of incense reminded everyone of that purpose.

Imagine being a citizen in Paul's day and watching one of the triumphal processions.  Imagine smelling the aroma of incense used for sacrifices.  Picture the victorious king.  This procession is exactly what we - as Christians - are showing the rest of the world.  Christ has bought us with a price and we are in His triumphant procession.  For Christians, the aroma is also an aroma of life, since our lives have been spared by Christ's sacrifice.  For others who have rejected the truth, they will receive punishment; for them, the aroma is an aroma of death.  Paul writes that we are the aroma of Christ to God.  Our lives testify to His greatness.  We are vessels of His victory!

Every time Buddy wanders into our kitchen I notice he's there.  His aroma precedes him (if you know what I mean...).  Every time you walk into a room, what do others first notice about you?  Do they see - or should I say, smell - a vessel of His victory?  People will notice when we truly display His greatness.  Do they notice it in you?

Let your light shine.


(see also the Jamieson, Fausset, and Brown Commentary for more on 1 Corinthians 2)

Untended

Some of you may remember the difficulty I had last year with growing lettuce. Actually, growing it was the easy part; warding off hungry (and persevering!) rabbits was where I had some problems. This year, due to time restraints, this intermittent gardener decided to not even attempt growing lettuce - I knew I wouldn't have the time to mess with rabbits.

To tell you the truth, I really hadn't done any cultivating at all when I finally ventured out to survey the condition of the weedpit - I mean, garden. It was just as I expected. Tall weeds, short weeds, prickly weeks, leafy weeds, vine-like weeds - maybe even some weeds unique to our garden. But as I kept looking, I noticed one plant that didn't quite fit in with all the other weeds. As I observed a little more closely, I realized what it was. Lettuce. Now, I know that I did not plant any lettuce this year. None. But there it was right in front of me: one solitary, healthy head of lettuce, and I had not done any work for it. On top of that, the rabbits hadn’t even touched it.

We often don’t understand why God chooses to give us gifts. David questioned why the kingdom of Israel was given to him. On that note, why did God choose the Israelites at all? And what had the disciples done to make them worthy to be the privileged few who were the closest to Jesus during His time on earth? One thing we know for sure: God doesn't give us gifts because we deserve them. After all, King David committed sins that hurt many people. The Israelites were far from faithful to God – most of the Old Testament tells of their yo-yo commitment to God and His ways. The disciples were continually bickering, arguing, and losing focus of the big picture (if they ever really had it in sight). Think of Jonah when he was stewing about God's compassion toward Nineveh: despite Jonah's sour attitude, God made a plant grow quickly to shade Jonah from the scorching heat (Jonah 4:1-11). Jonah didn’t deserve God’s compassion toward him, but God gave it to him anyway.

As Charles Spurgeon so aptly put it, “Soar back through all your own experiences. Think of how the Lord has led you in the wilderness and has fed and clothed you every day. How God has borne with your ill manners, and put up with all your murmurings and all your longings after the 'sensual pleasures of Egypt!' Think of how the Lord's grace has been sufficient for you in all your troubles.” Yes, God rewards obedience and faithfulness to Him, but sometimes He also gives generously for no reason that we can see or understand. And He gives generously. Who among us deserves an air-conditioned bedroom, a supportive family, or nice clothes? What have we done that makes us more worthy of these things than millions of other people around the world? Nothing. "For God so loved the world that He gave His one and only Son," and, might I add, a million other smaller blessings that we often don't even think about.

One small head of lettuce may not seem like a big deal, and, from a practical point of view, it isn't. But God can teach us life lessons even through the little things. A message about His loving generosity surrounds us every day - a safe car ride, good meals, our favorite song on the radio, even an untended yet prospering head of lettuce. But we so rarely notice. We don't deserve God's patient love and generous gifts toward us. He gives them anyway. And that's something this intermittent gardener will think about next time I eat a salad.