Funky. Our van is funky, and I don't mean in a tie-dye, Woodstock kind of way. The original meaning of this word pertains to an olfactory experience. To put it more simply, a stinky smell. Funky. Our van smells funky. We've searched and searched for the source of the smell, but to no avail. What might be the cause, we've wondered... dirty preteen boy sneakers, dank beach towels forgotten in the trunk after a day at the beach, a spilled homemade latte (guilty!), a banana ripened to a lovely shade of black stuck under the seat. Lovely. Our van smells because life happens in our van, and life is smelly. Thus, our van is smelly. C'est la vie.
Today I heard a sermon about worshipping God. When is our worship a beautiful fragrance wafting up to the Lord and when does it stink? Stink? Sometimes it really does stink. Worshipping the Lord in the traditional sense - singing and making music - is a joy for me. Yet in other areas of my life, where my life could be a living sacrifice for God, an act of worship, I know that my offering stinks. Like searching through the car looking for the source of our stink, I need to be willing to search through the hidden places of my heart and find the source of my stinky worship. And then finish the job by getting rid of the cause. This part may hurt, this part may mean discomfort, confession, letting go.
Give me the strength, God, and the insight to seek and find the source of my stinky worship, so that I can turn it all back to fragrant praise for you.
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