CHAPTER TWO: THE FRAGRANCE OF VICTORY
Becky Bader Posted on Friday, October 14, 2011 at 08:34AM From my book Like a Sweet Fragrance
In 2006, we went to visit our youngest son who was teaching English in a remote northern village in Thailand. While we were there, we spent a weekend at the Thai Elephant Conservation Center in the lush green jungles outside Chiang Mai, a fragrant tropical village where yellow and orange marigolds grow ten times the size of those in Texas, exotic orchids bloom as abundantly as bluebonnets in the spring, and huge elephants meander down jungle paths as lazily as cows grazing in pastures. Ironically, everything in Texas looks tiny compared to the elephants, flowers, and even the bugs we saw in Thailand.
After arriving at the Thai elephant camp, we exchanged our tourist clothes for the traditional blue jumpsuits of the elephant caregivers and took a class on elephant commands, practicing them over and over again. 
Then for three exhilarating, yet exhausting days, we bathed our elephants in the river, rode them through the jungle, performed with them in a demonstration for Thai school children, fed them mountains of massive yellow bananas, and learned about the life of the mahout (muh-hoot’), the official name of an elephant caregiver.
Sleeping in a Gilligan’s Island-style hut and riding larger-than-Goliath elephants during the day were only part of our adventure at the camp as we also learned how the mahouts spent their days. Since elephant care giving is a deeply rooted heritage passed from generation to generation, many times it involves a career which begins when a boy is young and is assigned an elephant to care for throughout its lifetime.
We also observed other workers in the camp, especially intrigued with those who were responsible for taking the elephant dung through a process that results in an exquisitely beautiful paper, and we marveled at these majestic animals as they painted Picasso-style pictures on the dung paper by clutching, with amazing dexterity, mammoth-size paintbrushes in their trunks.
As incredible as the adventure was, however, I will never forget the first afternoon riding on the back of my elephant. The elephants were walking single file as they plodded carefully down a steep mountain path. To me, the terrain looked treacherous, and no doubt about it, I was scared. And it didn’t help that our sons were calmly discussing how they would get us back home if we were killed!
But even though I was frightened, I was also quite confident at my elephant-giving commands, rattling them off like I had been taught. And my elephant, a nine-year-old female named Wanalee, was doing what I was telling her to do. If I told her to stop, she stopped. If I told her to go left, she went left. Here I was – a 50-year-old woman scared to death of riding a horse – and I was telling an elephant what to do, and she was doing it! It was definitely a high point in my life, and I was feeling pretty good about myself.
And at that moment, God taught me a valuable lesson that should have been apparent all along. I was so confident, I was so pleased with myself, and I was so in control that I didn’t see the obvious: every time I would give a command to Wanalee, the mahout behind me would also say something. I didn’t know what he was saying, but you know what? That elephant certainly did! The entire time I thought I was in control of this gigantic animal, she was actually obeying the mahout. Wanalee couldn’t understand me, much less obey my commands. To her, I was probably speaking Thai-Wanna-Be gibberish and with a drawling Texas accent!
On the back of that enormous animal in the middle of an exotic Thai jungle, God overwhelmed me with the realization that he is the one who gives the commands.
God is sovereign. Sometimes in life we think we’re in control, or maybe we think no one is in control, but there is always one incredible mahout behind us calling the shots. And like he’s done all our lives, God is leading us – not the other way around – and as he leads us, he desires for us to spread the fragrant aroma of His Son everywhere. In stinky situations and in fragrant jungles.
And incredibly, it’s not just those around us who smell this fragrance, but it’s also God, who smells the sweetness and beauty of the fragrance of Jesus in all that we do. It’s also God, who is most definitely aware of all that is going on in our lives.
So what is this fragrance? What does victory by the King of Kings and Lord of Lords smell like? The King James Version calls it a savor. The language comes from the Old Testament sacrificial system and is a reference to the smell of the smoke rising from the sacrifice on the altar. The smoke symbolically rises up to God who smells the aroma and is pleased with the sacrifice.
In the Old Testament, the smoke came from the sacrificial offerings; for us, however, our sacrifice is the Lamb of God. Christ is our sacrifice. And Paul shares with us an astonishing fact in 2 Corinthians 2:15 when he says, “For we are unto God a sweet savor of Christ” (KJV). To God, we are the aroma of Christ, the life-giving fragrance that God desires to spread everywhere.
Bishop Daniel Morse, one of the most fragrant Christians I know and a bishop in the Reformed Episcopal Church, says it like this: “The sweet-smelling smoke of the incense is symbolic. By this symbol, God says to us, ‘The sacrifice of the life of my Son, the Lord Jesus, on your behalf has rendered you as though you had about you the sweet fragrance of Jesus Himself.’”
Not only do others smell the fragrance of Christ, but when we come before God's presence, He smells the sweetness of Christ, not the rankness of our sin and failure.
In the Bible, the “word for sacrifice doesn’t have the same meaning as our word. We think of negative things like hardship and deprivation and pain when we hear sacrifice. But sacrifice in the Bible means a gift freely given. The sacrifice on the altar is consumed in fire, but the important thing isn’t the destructive character of fire – which is the rather negative idea of sacrifice – but its transforming character, the positive idea of fire changing a bloody, dead animal into sweet-smelling smoke that goes up to God and pleases him” (Morse).
In 2 Corinthians 2:14, we are reminded that as we follow God, we are spreading everywhere “the fragrance of the knowledge of him.” So, what is this knowledge? One answer is found in Paul’s passionate cry recorded in Philippians 3:10: “I want to know Christ, and the power of his resurrection and the fellowship of sharing in his sufferings.” Knowing Christ - that’s the knowledge we spread.
My friend David Marek calls this the usin’ knowledge. I love to study the Word of God. I love to read and research and write, but that's not the usin' knowledge I spread even though I know God is pleased with these endeavors. Instead, the usin' knowledge is the “objective truth about God that is now communicated by our words and actions in the world” (Morse).
And the truth is that God is good; so the evidence of God’s goodness in our lives and how we, in turn, are good to others - that is the fragrance of the knowledge of him we spread.
The truth is that God is forgiving, and the evidence of God’s forgiveness in our lives and how we, in turn, forgive others - that is the fragrance of the knowledge of him we spread.
The truth is that God is love, and the evidence of God’s love in our lives and how we, in turn, love others - that is the fragrance of the knowledge of him we spread.
God is merciful. God is kind. God is compassionate. And the evidence of these qualities in our lives and how we, in turn, demonstrate them to others - that is the fragrance of the knowledge of him we spread.
In the first part of 1 John 1:3, the apostle John declares, “We proclaim to you what we have seen and heard.” John knew Jesus and he had plenty of experiences to share. So to encourage others, he made known what he had seen and heard just as we are to do.
The Scriptures don’t just tell us God loves us; they show us that he does. And from Genesis through Revelation, we are shown not only God’s love, but also his compassionate interest and active involvement in the everyday lives of men, women, and children. And their experiences with God continue to encourage us thousands of years later.
I’ve taught elementary and high school students, but the experiences I had teaching junior high were some of my most memorable times. And some of the wildest, too! One reason I loved teaching these children was because they remind me so much of myself. On Monday, they’re teenagers discussing the weekend dance ; on Tuesday, they’re grown-ups debating party politics; on Wednesday, they’re teenagers again obsessing over their looks; on Thursday, they’re young children crying to go home because someone told them they smelled bad. And on Friday – who knows? Which is really what makes junior high kids fun for those of us who speak their language.
I’ll always remember one rowdy, yet charming young boy who couldn’t stay still in any of his classes. Always disrupting the other students, he even distracted himself! But I thought I had a solution to his problem. I told him if he’d keep one hand on his desk at all times, he’d never be in trouble. He could stand up and walk around his desk when he needed to, but he had to keep one hand on it at all times. I could teach, he could move, and the others weren’t sidetracked. Life was perfect in that sixth-grade classroom.
One day I was teaching my heart out when I heard this soft, frantic cry from the back of the room: “Help me! Help me!”
Looking around, I saw him immediately. Unfortunately, everyone did. And yes, his hand was on his desk. Yes, he had followed my rules. But the day had come when walking around the desk wasn’t enough; he had experimented and tried to see how far he could stretch the rules. Not thinking, he dove head-first between the back of the chair and the seat, and now he was stuck, trapped by his ears and unable to move anything but his legs, which were flopping helplessly back and forth. Completely exposed to his merciless junior high peers, he was humiliated as I held down his ears while another teacher pulled him out of the chair.
His hand was still on the desk, but he had gotten himself in trouble anyway. Humiliated and helpless, all he could do was cry for help.
Unfortunately, sometimes with the cry for help comes the agony of humiliation.
Sometimes we’re exposed to an audience who, unlike God, refuses to show mercy. As a friend told me the other day, “I’ve really embarrassed myself this time.”
Do you know what it’s like to have your head stuck in a desk for the world to see? Humiliated? Hurt? Embarrassed? Have you tried to put the experience behind you?
What if that agonizing experience is the very thing someone else needs to hear? What if that experience is a way not just to tell someone, but to show them how faithful God is in times of trouble? What if that experience is actually important in the life of another person who is as stuck as you once were?
What if all things, even humiliating experiences, really do work for good? What if we dare to believe the truth that God truly can bring everything around for his glory?
We share what we have seen and heard. We share our own experiences. And God, in the victorious parade that only He can lead, may guide us to someone who needs a compassionate friend that understands the same humiliation, embarrassment, or hurt. Someone who needs a reminder that God is compassionate as well as sovereign. And the fragrance of the knowledge of Christ that we bring will point the way heavenward for God shines his light in dark situations so he, above all, can be seen.
God is sovereign, but Psalm 116:5 tells us he is also “full of compassion” and throughout the Gospels, Jesus miraculously, yet compassionately, healed the sick and the blind and the lame. If people had nothing to eat, he had “compassion for these people” (Mark 8:2). He still does.
In the original Greek language of the New Testament, compassion means a powerful, almost forceful physical reaction in the gut. Compassion demands a response. If we’re moved by compassion, we can’t simply sit and observe; we must do something. We must help. So God sends us to the hurting and the humiliated and the embarrassed so they can experience Christ-like compassion.
About the same time the twelve-year-old’s head was stuck in the chair, our school nurse taught a CPR class to the teachers on that campus. Using the blow-up dummy, we learned the basic maneuvers associated with this life-saving technique. I was the last to leave the session for I wanted to make sure I could do it if the opportunity presented itself. And since I have to do things over and over again to learn them, I practiced until she finally ran me out of the gym.
Meeting my husband for dinner at the pizza place in town, the kids and I were waiting for our food when a man, sitting at the table next to ours, fell out of his chair and landed on the floor. Practically at my feet. But where had I just been? Oh yes, I was ready for him!
Immediately standing up, I lunged toward him, not knowing what was wrong but ready to pound on his chest and suck air into his mouth anyway. How surprised I was when my husband intercepted my eagerness, sending me to the kitchen, instead, to call 911. I had seen it as a God moment; my husband saw it as a disaster waiting to happen. And it would have been a disaster for the man had been in a car wreck and the last thing he needed was for me to pound on his chest.
Many times I want to help someone and instead I do the wrong thing. I try to fix it. And sometimes things can’t be fixed the way I’d fix them. The way I wished they could be fixed. The way I want them fixed. Sometimes listening and being present and calling 911 are the most compassionate things we can do.
My friends Gana and David Marek are two of the most compassionate people I’ve ever known. Owners of a successful safari company, they have the opportunity to visit exotic places all over the world, but they do more than visit. They’ve heeded God’s call to use these opportunities to support and encourage and serve the less fortunate and suffering and sick in Africa. Whether it’s an orphanage full of malnourished and lonely children or one lone missionary dragging dying AIDS victims off the side of a road, the compassion that has moved Gana and David to share in these sufferings is making a difference for all eternity. The fragrance they leave behind in the opportunities God has given them is generated by the compassion God feels for the people on this earth. For God is “the Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God” (2 Corinthians 1:3-4).
And with that directive comes an opportunity to feel as God feels.
To feel the suffering of the world. To feel the hurting in the world. Or, as Paul says in Philippians 3:10, to share in the fellowship of his sufferings.
When the Mareks are in Africa, they must return to their lodgings by dark because it’s dangerous to be out at night. They have no choice in this matter. They have to follow that rule. And to leave the thousands who are still lined up asking for prayer is heart breaking. It’s upsetting. It’s overwhelming. Thousands of women and sick infants standing in line, simply begging for prayer. And my sweet friends can’t get to them all before dark. Compassion and suffering walk hand-in-hand.
One of my favorite inspirational writers, John Ortberg, says, “He can take what you have to offer and make a difference that matters for eternity.” As we spread the sacrificial fragrance of Christ regardless of how difficult it is, God notices as we help others who are stuck or sick or hurting. He notices our compassion. The fragrant smell of Jesus reaches him, and He is pleased for “we are to God, the aroma of Christ” (2 Cor 2:15). And that’s the smell of victory.
So, what does this fragrance smell like? It smells like you, it smells like me, it smells like all of us as we live a Christ-centered life regardless of where we are.
Yes, it smells like the life-saving work that is done in impoverished African counties, but it also smells like the encouraging smile we give to the exhausted teenage mom at the dollar store checkout stand who is trying hard to hang on to a job so she can feed her kids. It smells like the kind way we treat the sickly sixty-year-old waitress at a busy fast-food restaurant who has no insurance, no family, and no hope. It smells like the patience we exhibit to the irritable and difficult people we work with who seem to make it their daily mission to inflict as much misery on us as possible – maybe because they, too, might be stuck in a miserable situation.
It also smells like the compassionate friend who supports us through the pain of our child’s devastating heartache or the co-worker who notices the worry lines on our face and sends encouraging notes or the relative who lives thousands of miles away, yet is constantly available for prayer support even if the request is trivial.
And it also smells like the fifty-year-old adult child who becomes the caregiver of a distraught elderly parent.
Then there are those things we sacrifice on God’s altar like grudges and jealousy and bitterness and self-pity, which also smell like the fragrance we leave behind. And as we turn our backs on these things, sacrificing them on God’s altar of forgiveness, he will make room in our hearts for more fragrant qualities like compassion that matter and make a difference and last forever.
Anytime we give up a life of few worries, a life of no suffering, to involve ourselves in someone else’s pain and heartache, we are spreading Christ’s fragrance in the world; however, what we lose for the sake of Christ will count as gain. And just as the flowers and incense in the Roman triumphal parades dispensed a fragrant aroma which called attention to the victory, our lives will also be like a sweet fragrance spread throughout the world and to God who is pleased.
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Morse, The Rt. Rev. Daniel (Missionary Bishop). Missionary Diocese of the Central States. Reformed Episcopal Church.
Ortberg, John, If You Want to Walk on Water, You’ve Got to Get out of the Boat. Zondervan: Grand Rapids, 2001. 51.
Note: All Bible verses are from the New International Version (NIV) unless otherwise noted.
A As you can tell from the laughter in the background, I think the boys encouraged my mahout to do this!
Riding solo!
An amazing artist!
The Baders - Reid, Will, Ian, and Becky
Some of the Beautiful Flowers in Thailand!
Reader Comments (2)
Just as the fragrance of a rose lingers long after it has been given away so is the love from one person to another.
Oh, Debbie, I love that! I hope you'll keep reading my blog. My goal is to post one chapter a week from the book I've been writing. Now I think I need to go deadhead the roses so the smell will be even stronger outside!