dude...what's that smell?

Of my five physical senses, one works overtime: my eyes are nearsighted, my hearing is selective, my taste is dulling, and my touch leaves something to be desired. (Ha!)

From the time I was a toddler, my nose picked up everything. My mom first took my brother and I for swim lessons at the age of four. My body has always been suspicious of the physics behind human buoyancy, so while I enjoyed the water, this was not my finest hour. Approaching the end of one particularly grueling session, my nose began to pick up the scent of the nearby molasses factory. Having already drained my emotional reservoir on the lesson, I began to blubber on account of the scent’s intensity. What began as a solid cry quickly transitioned to an unsightly weep when the adults didn’t believe me. They thought I had made it up to be removed from the pool. Where’s mom when you need her?

Ten years ago, I had innocently attended a dinner party, when a fresh face sat next to me on the couch. She fell asleep while we watched a DVD, and unknowingly rested her head upon my shoulder. The newly released scent that transferred to my clothing outlasted the season of dating, falling in love, and heartbreak that followed. A decade later, I curse the day I first encountered Love Spell.

[Ladies and gentlemen, if you purchase a product that markets itself as a means to charm, do not feign surprise when it serves as such. CBS CARES.]

Just this evening I was lounging at my parents’ house when my nose picked out a fruity sensation. I began rummaging around the living room and inhaling near the open screen door for the source. My pup-like nostrils led me to kitchen, where my mom was finishing the dishes. I asked if she smelled something, and she offered, “The dishwater?” I leaned toward the dirty pool, which disclosed a sensory array of apples and cherry blossoms. That’s right…I’m just that good.

While I may demonstrate more obsession than others, mankind has been created with the mental capacity to attach scent to circumstance. These particular neural firings tell us when something is burning, when it is about to rain, or when your good friend Liz has entered the room. Since our synapses transfer this information quicker than we reason how we should feel about the information, instinct takes over. We respond according to our association with the scent.

Paul uses this wonderful analogy to describe our interactions with the world. Many of us would like to portray an image of Christianity to our own liking, which usually means to others’ own liking. Paul does not assume this liberty:

But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him. For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing. To the one we are the smell of death; to the other, the fragrance of life. And who is equal to such a task? Unlike so many, we do not peddle the word of God for profit. On the contrary, in Christ we speak before God with sincerity, like men sent from God. (2 Cor. 2:14-17, emphasis added)

I’ve heard a lot of discussion about what “we” should call ourselves. Many believe that the term “Christian” has lost its luster, and that an association with this term is a detriment to our ministry. I try not to concern myself with such matters. If someone covers an onion with a solid orange peel, they will not fool me for long. It would not require the peeling of the skin for me to identify the bitter sting of the onion.

We give humanity's “sense of scent” too little credit. Yes, there are plenty masquerading a false message or lifestyle in the name of Christ, and they provide due injustice to our name. But I have to presume that people -- whether Christian or not -- own a brain.

Those who carry the aroma of Christ cannot be concerned with the acceptance of their scent. To those living in His grace, we are like my mom’s pool of dishwater -- perhaps something short of physical perfection, but nonetheless wafting a message of hope to those being lured by Jesus. I have met many unbelievers that have cringed at the name of Christianity, but are drawn to the authentic aroma of His truth because it cannot be fabricated by the hypocrites.

Likewise, those bent on living in darkness -- whether Christian or not -- will loathe the fragrance, but we cannot concern ourselves with this. Our aim is to represent the aroma’s source, “like men sent from God,” so that the perishing might know the presence of Life.