Hello,
Now that summer is here, I like to travel over the ridge to
work with my windows and sunroof open.
It may seem to some who I encounter on the morning road that I am a bit
foolish to drive open windowed while the air is still chilled from the night, but
I like the refreshing nip that the cool air slaps on my face.
The other wonderful thing about driving with windows and sun
roof open is that I can gather in all the smells that waft around me: the smell
of crisp pine, the sweet aroma of the honeysuckle, the smell of money flowing
from the valley (that’s the smell of cow manure to farmers), and the smell of
fresh cut grass that takes me back to my days of mowing lawns in high school.
Every once in a while, though, my open windows and sun roof
let smells in to my cockpit that I would rather travel without: the pungent
odor of a skunk, the fog of an old diesel truck chugging its way over the
ridge, and the residual odor of decay from the raccoon who unsuccessfully tried
to cross the road.
A couple of weeks ago the open windows and sunroof drew in a
smell that I hadn’t smelled before.
It was a pleasant smell.
Sweet but not sappy. Earthy
but not acrid. Subtle but not
hidden. Unlike most of the ridge
smells that dissipate from my nostrils as I pass them, this smell did not. It stayed with me, and as a matter of
fact got stronger the further I drove.
About two-thirds the way to work as I tilted around one of
the bends in the road, I discovered what was making this nose delectable smell
and where it was coming from. It
was coming from an old dump truck which I had caught up to, an old dump truck
loaded to its fill with a load of fresh mulch. As I finished my drive to work, the dump truck turned off my
road as I entered Greensburg, and as it turned away, so also it took its aroma
with it.
You may not find the smell of fresh mulch to be as
enchanting as I do, but as I road behind that dump truck, I found myself
thinking about why I come to church every Sunday in a way that I had not
thought before, and this is it: to fill my dump truck with fresh mulch and
carry that aroma into the world. Of course the mulch that I receive at worship is not ground
up trees, but it is the forgiveness that came from the one who was hung on a
Calvary tree.
The wind and weather has a way of damping the scent of mulch,
and it also has a way of eroding the sweet smelling words of Jesus’
forgiveness. So I come to church
every Sunday, to dump the load of mulch from the week before, mulch whose aroma
has been weakened, and to reload my dump truck with new mulch….mulch that reeks
(in the best of ways) with Jesus forgiveness of me, and the forgiveness with
which he means to permeate the world.
And permeate it he does as I drive around, in my dump truck
(figuratively, of course, because as you know I drive a Mini Cooper which is
far more fun to drive over the ridge), leaving in my wake the delightful aroma
of a fresh load of the finest mulch that ever came from a tree….the forgiveness
of Jesus.
There’s plenty to fill your dump truck with, too!
Have a great week.
God’s grace and peace, (ggap)
Pastor Jerry Nuernberger
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