Three white hyacinths burst forth into bloom last night,
spreading a sweet aroma through the room.
They sit in front of me as I write,
and I inhale deeply, savouring their heady scent.
A single pink hyacinth is about to open too, perched on the
mantel piece and ready to burst forth.
Smells are so evocative. The smell of hot cross buns as I
enter the supermarket takes me straight to Good Friday afternoon, after the 3-
hour service at church, when Mom would bake the hot cross buns and Judy and I
would frost them, to be eaten with dinner that night and over the ensuing
weekend until all were consumed. Sweet memory.
Paul wrote to the Corinthians, ‘we are to God the pleasing
aroma of Christ...’ That is incredible. That we carry the aroma of Christ, the
fragrance of the King of Kings. I know someone who is very partial to Chanel;
in fact, I am myself; but this is miles better. Imagine being dabbed by the
fragrance of Jesus, a perfume mixed of purity and self-sacrifice, love and
goodness, mercy and forgiveness, justice and kindness and joy.
Yes. Those are the ingredients I value in my perfume. I am
so grateful that when God the Father catches a whiff of me, it is the whiff of
Jesus, and not the noxious whiff I might otherwise emit, a perfume mixed of
bitterness and regret, unforgiveness and selfishness, envy and strife and
critical thoughts, injustice, meanness and anger.
Thanks be to Jesus for his wonderful aroma of life.
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