This morning as I was driving down Foothills, I was suddenly struck by an awful smell. It filled my car and was inescapable. Driving with one hand on the wheel, the other plugging my poor nose, I realized it was the dump. It’s always been there, and sometimes I have to take a load there or something, but on my normal, unscented drives I don’t take any notice of it. Suddenly the smell was unavoidable and incredibly strong, and it was out of my power to do anything but plug my nose and wait it out.
Sin can be like the dump. Little things that we think, say or do don’t seem like a big deal. We don’t notice as we add little white lies, or rude responses, or slight compromises of our convictions to the pile. They don’t make that big of a difference individually. Then suddenly one day, we find that the “aroma” we give off is no longer the sweet perfume of someone seeking to live for Christ, to be his hands and feet. Instead we are overwhelmed by the stink of our attitude and guilt.
This is sort of a funny metaphor, but it really struck me this morning. What sort of aroma does my life give off? What things have I added to my “dump” that really shouldn’t be there in the first place? Christ promises to wipe away our “trash” and give us a clean slate, but we have to ask for and accept it first.