Published: September 05, 2008 07:24 pm            

The Joy Lady: God gives Christians the ‘fragrance of the knowledge’ of Christ

The nose knows. Our olfactory sense is a pretty strong one. Too many onions? You’ll end up crying. Too much garlic in your co-worker’s lunch? You’ll end up moving your desk. Too close to the gas dripping from the pump handle? You’ll end up wearing Eau de Petrol for several hours.

The nose knows about memories, too. Sometimes the sense of smell is the easiest way to tap into our forgotten memories. For instance, there’s that peculiar new-doll-plastic smell that I associate with one special Christmas. I had asked Santa, my parents, my grandparents, assorted aunts and uncles, and maybe even my second-grade teacher for the only thing I really wanted – a Chatty Cathy doll. You pulled Chatty Cathy’s string and she would say “Please brush my hair,” “I love you,” “Tell me a story,” “Will you play with me?” or “Please take me with you.” I got my Chatty Cathy that year. She had a pink dress with shiny gold bow and gold embroidery trim on her dress – and that wonderful new-doll smell. I kept her with me all the time, breathing in grateful gulps just before I drifted off to sleep. They just don’t make dolls like that any more, do they?

Then there’s that new-book smell. I don’t know whether it’s the paper or the glue that is used on the spine or the process of printing/copying it, but I love that new-book smell. It reminds me of lazy afternoons spent in my grandparents’ spare bedroom, sprawled on the chenille bedspread reading all those Nancy Drew and Trixie Beldon and Cherry Ames books.

A friend of mine says that some of her fondest memories are going on trips with her traveling salesman father. Just the two of them, talking and being together. Every time her father walked into a motel room, he would take a deep breath and say, “Ah, the smell of home away from home.” For the longest time, she thought there were aerosol cans of “motel smell” that motels were required to use after cleaning the room. As an adult, she often wished she could buy a can of “motel smell” just so she could feel closer to her father.

Another friend says she remembers when cars started coming equipped with air conditioners. It was called “factory air” by the advertisers and dealers. But to her, “factory air” was that new-car smell of plastic, seat covering fabric, wires and paint. She believed that “factory air” was purposely “built” into the car at the assembly plant.

Then there’s that smell following rain. Poets equate that smell to spring and new life, to cleanliness and purity. But it’s not very poetic to know that what we smell after a rain is nothing more than mold and bacteria spores. The wetness and the force of the rain hitting the ground where the spores sprawl spurs the spores into the air where the moisture acts like a can of air freshener and sprays those spores everywhere. Interestingly, breathing in those spores don’t make us sneeze. Rather, we take a whiff, smile and say, “Ahhh.” Go figure.

Not all smells are pleasant. Ever smell a wet dog on a hot day? Or rotten eggs? Or too full Dumpsters left too long in the sun? Or sweaty workout clothes left in your gym bag over the weekend? Or that plastic container of mystery meat that’s been hanging out in the refrigerator for weeks on end?

But there’s one smell that is the sweetest aroma in the universe. We’re told in 2nd Corinthians 2:14-16 that God gives Christians the “fragrance of the knowledge” of Christ. “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.”

What does Jesus smell like? Peace. Grace. Mercy. Forgiveness. Every breath we breathe carries the aroma of his willing sacrifice for our sins. We can smell his victory over death. We can inhale the salvation he provides. The air around Christ smells sweeter and cleaner and purer simply because of his presence.

To God, Christians have that same sweet smell about them. From his throne, God can smell our love, our worship, our adoration, our obedience as it wafts upward in waves of invisible spiritual incense. We don’t smell like guilt or sin, because Jesus took that with him to the cross, leaving us smelling sweet, smelling like life, not death.

Take a deep breath. Isn’t the fragrance of Jesus just about the sweetest thing you’ve ever smelled? The nose knows.

        

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