On the way to prayer meeting at our little country church, I stopped to feed Grandma Alice’s cats, entrusted to my care while Marilyn’s grandparents were away. It was late in the summer and very late in the day. The sun was losing its battle with twilight, leaving only a landscape of ghostly black and gray shapes—now twilight fading into evening.
I determined I would feed the cats by Braille, confident I could find my way in the fading light. Squinting into the darkness, I could see shadowy images of kittens encircling the bowl.
“Mission accomplished!” Then I realized I had shortsightedly placed the bowl at the top of the porch steps and effectively blocked my exit. Concerned I might frighten the hungry kittens I spoke softly and approached slowly. Suddenly, I jumped back, repulsed by the overpowering stench of a skunk. I reasoned, “These kittens must have encountered a skunk!”
As my vision adapted to the ambient light I fought panic as I realized my dinner guests weren’t cats at all, but an entire family of skunks! Momma skunk and her kits had become contented patrons at Alice’s Restaurant.
Panic in check, my only option was to carefully step over the aromatic diners. Breath tightly held, I gingerly stepped over the pungent land mine, hoping against hope that my slow, calculated moves would not draw enemy fire.
It worked! I was free! I sprinted to the car; celebrating my escape. As I drove on to the prayer meeting the stench hung in my nostrils and I knew I had dodged a bullet.
Arriving late, I slid inconspicuously into the last pew (no pun intended) and bowed to join the others in their low, harmonious symphony of whispered prayers.
But quickly their murmured prayers faded and the sanctuary fell conspicuously silent. I glanced up to see my fellow congregants, one by one sniffing the air, some eying the one beside them suspiciously. Slowly at first, and then as if carefully choreographed, the entire congregation turned as a unit, lowered their gaze upon me and frowned.
What do you say at a time like that? I managed a weak smile and mumbled something about “They were skunks… not kittens!” and fled.
By the time I arrived home, Marilyn was waiting at the garage door with tomato juice and a bucket of warm water. She smiled sympathetically and said, “Congratulations, I heard they had to cancel Prayer Meeting to air out the church!”
As a pastor I’ve spent a great deal of my life trying to fill a church. Looking back, this story makes me chuckle. But it also causes me to wonder how many times I’ve been guilty of raising a stink by hurtful things I’ve said or dismayed others by a scent of bad attitude?
The Apostle Paul points out that we give off an aroma wherever we go. It’s a powerful thought to realize we can either foul the air or exude a “fragrance of the knowledge of him.”
“But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumphal procession in Christ and through us spreads everywhere the fragrance of the knowledge of him.” 2 Corinthians 2:14