What a title! What a thought. On my fifty-eighth birthday (June 30, 2011) I’m reading in 2 Corinthians 2 and have lighted on the last paragraph which is verses 14 through 17. Here Paul presents a gripping picture rarely if ever seen in the last 200 years or so. In the “civilized world” that is.
We peer in wonder at a victory celebration Roman Empire style. The conquered are being lead through the city streets in chains; usually this is a humiliating scene. However, here it seems to resemble a mutual celebration by both the conqueror and the conquered. The victims are rejoicing and the spectators are reflecting a mixed reaction. Some look terrified and others are jumping in ecstatic joy. What is going on?
Jesus Christ has won. His death and resurrection were the coup de gras. The procession genders a mixed reaction from the multitude because many in it are already dead and they smell their not too distant future. Others are jumping for joy because they see their coming Hope in those precious chains.
What? Chains? Isn’t that oxymoronic, “precious chains”? Yes it is.
Christ’s chains have rescued us. They keep us bound to Him. They render us His slaves. They disallow following our own selfish way. They steal our “freedom” and there is really no better place in the universe. Those of us who form this seeming odd procession rejoice because, we’re in! The unchained stare in horror realizing that they are not.
So, here I am celebrating fifty-eight complete years of life this side of glory. My God has blessed me beyond wonder. My parents are awaiting my arrival in His presence. My brothers and sister are chained to Christ. I have a lovely and mutually chained wife, three daughters, two sons-in-law and one grand daughter (to date). How can it get any better? Easy.
As I walk down life’s fleeting corridor I allow my God given fragrance to waft into the crowded street. It too strikes fear or wonder into those lining the curbs. It is interesting to watch their reaction.
Sometime that reaction fools me. I think I’m looking into the eyes of the conquered and sometimes into the eyes of the living dead. However, it isn’t too long before the real living and dead reveal their true scent.
So, my dear one, go about your business this precious day and allow your fragrance to overwhelm you. Reflect the joy of the conquered if you can and allow the smell of the redeemed to drift into the next cubicle. I have been enslaved for fifty-one of my fifty-eight years. Oh the freedom!.
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