What Is That Smell?

By Chelsey Dankert

In the not so distant past, I was at the gym and had the unpleasant experience of smelling something, well, slightly unpleasant. This scent wasn’t exactly nasty or appalling. Maybe I could define it as subtly rude. I tried to covertly determine where this intrusive smell was coming from; a few glances here and there, maybe a quick walk past fellow members might uncover the culprit. 

I can quietly admit that it took me longer than it should have to realize the source of the smell. 

It was me. 

I was the smelly person at the gym. 

Apparently I had left a load of laundry too long in the washer and the load got a little musty. Something I must have ignored over the course of the next several steps of loading into the dryer, folding and putting away. All of those poor decisions led me to this humiliating moment. Perhaps no one else noticed, but I was utterly embarrassed nonetheless. 

Have you had a situation like that before? Why is it that smells can be so offensive and even judgmental? 

How many times have I gotten in the car on a hot summer day and groaned, or simply walked into my boys shared room at night to check on them and am assaulted by only a few hours of too-well-contained boy-ick or, heaven forbid, a container of something was pushed to the back of the fridge was discovered - “What is that smell?” 

On the flipside, however, some aromas invoke deep feelings and nostalgia: a cologne from a first date, Grandma’s Polish Coffee Cake warmed with butter, garlic boiling in a favorite soup, the smoke from a cooled off campfire. 

Breathe deeply in this moment. What do you smell? What feelings or emotions are connected? 

Any number of scents can trigger any number of emotions; deeply felt memories can surface at a moment's notice with the right combination of flavors and aromas. 

Recently I heard a whisper of a notion, “What scent am I giving?” Hopefully my musty, not quite clean-not quite dirty gym shirt is not my normal fragrance. This idea that my life, in a metaphorical sense, releases a scent is not new, exactly, however, I’m not sure I’ve given it much headspace to ponder beyond the “yeah, I get that,” response. 

And then God, moving how only He can to get my attention in a way only He does - grabbed my attention not so long ago during worship at my church. 

“… Is it a fragrance? Then I'll pour my oil out.
Is it a life laid down? Then here I give my vows.
… Is it a song I sing? Then here's every melody.
Just tell me what moves You. Just tell me what moves You…”
Move Your Heart by Maverick City

I have sung these lyrics countless times before, but there was something soft and stirring in my spirit, like an ice cube melting, where I was more ready to receive the truth behind the words leaving my mouth. 

And again, the whisper of a thought entered my heart: What is the scent of my life?

Over several blog posts this year I have alluded to certain changes, a stripping back of people and places I once held dear, an unexpected job loss that swayed me, even down to school days that don’t go as planned; there has been enough change and adjustments this year to last a while, in my opinion. 

During these months I have experienced every range of emotion - anger, deep sadness, panic attacks, expectation, slowing down, happiness, anxiety, depression, confidence - let me tell you it’s been a roller coaster. And in some of the darkest moments, I am not too proud to admit that I was probably giving off some fire-and-brimestone-kind-of-vibes; something like that burnt rubber smell when a car takes off too quickly, or maybe when distraction causes a spatula hand to be left on a hot burner. 

My lips may have been singing the right words, but my heart has still been fuming nasty-selfish chemicals.

On that particular Sunday with that particular song, I was wrestling yet still with these feelings, lies, really, of inadequacy and failure, rejection and loneliness. Trust me, I know all the right things; I know how I should respond with grace and truth; I know that God is in control and “all things work for the good of those who trust Him.” (Romans 8:28). 

But just knowing the things of God has kind of been like a cup of tea for me. Something that smells sweet and fragrant, but ultimately extremely underwhelming every time I drink it. My outward knowledge has put off just enough of the scent of God to help me feel comfortable, to believe that I’m alright. But what am I actually giving God? 

My worship of Creator God has been deceivingly weak.

The last nine months I have been proclaiming that God is in control, while I have still allowed bitterness to bloom into anxiety that grows into resentment. Something was taken from me… I didn’t deserve that… These little seeds of angst, when not dealt with, leave a distinctive scent, something like compost. Not the strong rich smell of fertile dirt in the spring - no, the rotting banana peels kind of compost. 

So, again, back in the front seats at church, with voices rising all around me, the whisper echoes “What is the scent of my life?” 

The song begs the question “Tell me what moves You,” and, lyrically, at least, the created willing give up whatever “it” is for the worship of the Creator. 

“Tell me what moves You, tell me what moves You,” 

What if, during those moments when I was indigent, at best, and outright angry at worst - what if in those moments I chose to worship wholeheartedly. Not just a flippant stringing of words together to music, but actually, in fact, pouring out the oil of my life, of my heart, to the One who holds it all anyway - what if?

This is the thought that has been nagging at me these last several days. And the one that has made this so hard to sit down and write; how can I articulate something so delicate, but also so bold. 

What is the scent of my life?

Maybe I could have called it a “vibe” or “energy” - but the word I received was scent and I believe that has longer lasting implications than any other choice of words.  

Is my life a sweet-smelling incense, a constant offering being lifted up - or am I wallowing in my own limited understanding? 

Is my sacrifice one of thanksgiving and joy, even in moments that make so little sense? 

Am I choosing to give my innermost best, regardless of the outside circumstances, because I fully know, trust, and believe that God actually has the best for me in mind? And not my best, as in, changing my behavior or shifting my mindset - I mean my innermost-everything; the raw, the real, the hurt, the anger, the disappointments, simply because He is God, and He can, in fact, handle it. 

What is the scent of my life?

“He has filled the hungry with good things.”
Luke 1:53