In the 26 years I have been posting Friday thoughts in one form or another, I am pretty sure this is the first time I have written about a roadkill. For everything there is a season…

I noticed the carcass at the side of the county road as I was making my way from our house into town. But it wasn’t the usual racoon or opossum. Its black fur with a white stripe gave it away immediately. “Poor Pepé Le Pew,” I thought as I drove by, and for a few seconds did not think much more about it.

Then it hit. 50 yards or so from the scene of the crime, that unmistakable aroma hit my nostrils, even though the car windows were up. In another 100 yards the stench receded. The roadkill’s olfactory assault had been far worse than its visual assault.

If you want to know more about the chemistry and physics of skunk spray vaporizing and wafting cross-country, you may read more here. Suffice it to say, “humans can sense the presence of these (noxious) compounds at concentrations of ten parts per billion. This is equivalent to tasting a pinch of salt distributed across one ton of potato chips.”

The skunk gets hit by a passing car or sprays an agitated dog, and we smell the offending odor half a mile or more away, long after we pass the roadkill at the side of the road or the skunk scampers into the underbrush to get away from the neighbor’s dog (according to Reddit, so it must be true).

So what does a malodorous roadkill have to do with “living life faithfully and fully in our ‘not the way it is supposed to be’ world”?

Well, that skunky smell got me thinking about the aroma we might leave behind after we’ve left a room or ended a call. Do we leave a pleasing scent when we are long gone?

The Apostle Paul uses the metaphor of aroma as he writes to the Corinthians. (2 Corinthians 2:14-16) The image is of the triumphant Roman general in a victory parade. In addition to his victorious centurions, the procession often included a display of booty plundered and opponents captured. The captives themselves were often forced to scatter incense along the parade route. Mixing his metaphors, likens the aroma of a victor’s parade to the fragrance of the priestly incense offering in the Old Testament Tabernacle.

The image of skunk spray and the chemistry and physics of its lingering effects may not be as compelling a metaphor for the Christian life, but surely we are called to live lives that make a difference long after we leave the room or end the call. Do others smell Jesus as we walk by?

The idea of Roadkill Christianity may not have much marketing potential, but being the salt of the earth may be like just a pinch of the stuff adding flavor to a ton of potato chips.

We received word earlier this week of Ann’s death. She was 98 years old. Our sorrow, then, is not so much in an untimely death as in the loss of someone so good.

Becky and I knew Ann together and separately. Ann and her family were friends in Becky’s growing up neighborhood and with Becky’s family members of First Presbyterian Church in Santa Cruz, California. Ann and her husband Bob served and led at the church and were perhaps my most important encouragers and mentors when I became Youth and Christian Education Director following my graduation from the university in that town. For both of us Ann and Bob modeled faith and service – a love for Christ and his church – as few others have.

On an evening walk after we heard of Ann’s death, Becky and I shared memories of Ann and her importance in our lives as the sun set golden behind the trees in the neighborhood. The stories and recollections are too many to list, but for both of us the word that best describes Ann is grace. There was a grace about Ann in the way she dressed and the way she spoke, but, more, a grace about her care and love for people, surely a grace reflecting the grace of the God she served all her life. Continue reading →

I have checked, and my friend has missed sending me a message only 3 days since the beginning of August.  Okay, a few of the messages have been a bit saccharine for my taste, but I love them all. I love knowing that sometime between 6:00 and 8:00 every morning I will be greeted by a reminder of God’s faithfulness – and a reminder of a wonderful friendship (along with a chance to keep my Portuguese current).

It is easy to begin the day with the same worry that was on our minds when we went to bed.  Too often my first thought of the day is more anxious than faithful, too distracted by the ugliness of our current cultural moment than focused on the beauty of Christ.

Even that Snoopy meme was a reminder of the goodness of our God. “May God give you a day full of smiles and blessings.  Good morning.” Continue reading →

Becky and I made our return flight from our weekend away on Sunday evening. It was an adventure with moments of doubt and worry, but I did not pray about it much at all.

Our flight home to Fort Wayne had a connection in Atlanta, and when we bought our tickets we gave ourselves plenty of time just in case, 1 hour and 45 minutes. We could have had time for a quick bite to eat, but that was not to be. We needed all the just in case time we could find, and we found barely enough.

When we arrived at our departure airport, we learned the our flight would be about 45 minutes late. Thunderstorms had been delaying flights (and NFL games) across the south. Okay, we might lose our quick bite to eat, but we still had plenty of time. We boarded our late plane and all was well until the thunderstorms showed up.  They closed the ramp and told us to wait.  For another 30 minutes.  Okay, we’d have to hustle, but we still had enough time. The flight to Atlanta was uneventful and it looked like we’d make the Fort Wayne flight with a few minutes to spare. Continue reading →

Another birthday rolls around for me on Sunday. We will be away celebrating with family. Not only does this birthday have an impressive name – “Diamond Jubilee” – it feels significant.  A month or so ago I mentioned  J.I. Packer’s wonderful little book “Finishing Our Course with Joy,” and noted how he speaks of the “younger olds” (ages 65-75), the “medium olds” (75-85), and the “oldest olds” (85 plus).  Packer was among the oldest olds when he wrote the book and wrote with both wisdom and experience.

On Sunday I become just plain old. Happy Diamond Jubilee to me!

In “Finishing Our Course with Joy,” Packer quotes Shakespeare describing old age as “sans teeth, sans eyes, sans teeth, sans everything” (As You Like It, Act 2, Scene 7). So far, I have avoided all that and have reasonable hope to join the psalmist at 80 or more by “reason of strength” (Psalm 90:10). In fact, and lest you wonder otherwise, my health seems to be quite good in all ways. This is not a lament on the imminent approach of the Grim Reaper, or even the limitations older age always imposes. Rather, it is the acknowledgement of a sense that I am in a final lap of a long race – how long the race and how many the laps, I do not know. I already love the CityAlight hymn that sings, “When the race is complete, still my lips shall repeat ‘Yet not I, but through Christ in me.,’” but not yet do I think the race may be nearing completion. Continue reading →