Have you ever hugged a skunk? Not those rare and elusive tamed pet skunks you sometimes hear stories about. I’m talking about wild, untamed, actual skunks. The stinky kind. No? Well neither have I, but I came close once.
When I was about eleven years old my cousin Justin and I were travelling down a country road deep in the mountains of Arkansas one summer night. It was sticky and humid, like most summer nights in our home state. Despite the humidity, dust danced up from the dirt road as the pickup truck bounced along the familiar way, dodging holes and the odd rabbit.
Justin’s cousin Jason was driving, and he tapped the brakes when something caught his eye in the ditch. Sweaty and happy, we all spilled out of the pickup like good little country boys to discover a litter of baby skunks on the side of the road. There were five or six of the little stinkers and they all just stood there looking at us.
We messed around with them for what must have seemed like an hour. We playfully attempted to catch them but in all actuality were just poking them with sticks and watching them turn to point their little butts in our direction. I don’t know the technical term for it, but the part of their physiology that makes the stinky stuff must not have worked yet. Instead of spraying us with their telltale scent they just looked like confused cats fending off our thin sticks with their fluffy tails.
It went on like this for a while before we all gave up and realized we needed to get back to the house or we would be in trouble. So, we loaded back into the truck and went home for the night—dust, skunks, and our hopes of making pets of them left behind.
We were laughing and having a great time wondering out loud what having a pet skunk would be like. It’s not like we really had any idea, but it was fun. It was the stuff of boyhood whimsy and fantasy, albeit an admittedly strange one.
It wasn’t until we got out of the truck that my Uncle Roy met us outside his house and marveled in his direct fashion just how bad we smelled. Had we hit a skunk? We hadn’t even thought about the smell. Because we couldn’t smell it.
But boy—oh—boy could everyone else at the house. Everyone was gagging. Their eyes watered with the weight of their mirth and the pungent stench of country skunk. Jason was laughing hysterically at a punchline unfamiliar to me. We were banished from the house for the evening.
Someone turned on the water hose and we stripped butt naked outside. Scrubbing with dish soap, vinegar, and the cold flow from the hose made the summer night seem not so hot or humid anymore. It was only when we began to be clean that I started to smell the stench.
Somehow the adventure of the moment had masked the associated odor. It seems unbelievable to imagine doesn’t it? Skunks may not be common in your part of the world, but there is an almost universal reaction amongst those I know who come across them. The reaction is not unlike my Uncle Roy’s, “That stinks!”
It makes me wonder what else I’ve let into my life that stinks. Maybe not literally, I’m pretty sure my wife would speak up about an actual physical smell. But what else stinks?
How do I treat my neighbors and friends? What’s my attitude like? How’s my work ethic? Do the people I don’t know very well think I stink?
I’m not sure how much I should worry about all those things, or even if I should worry about those things where most people are concerned. But I do want to worry about them where the most important people are concerned. I don’t want the good times, even the ones which might seem playful or innocent to cause a stink for my family.
I don’t want my neighbors to avoid me because I repulse them either. This can be a tricky thing these days. Especially in a contrarian culture.
Let’s be honest here for a moment. We’ve all met those Christians. The ones who are always causing a stink.
They get mad because a company celebrates Christmas in a way they don’t like. They are touchy about something a movie might poke fun at. Or they just want to kind of police the world with their specific brand of what’s right or wrong.
These Christians can be loud about it. They may even be right about what they have to say. But how you show up determines the reception.
I used to enjoy wielding my faith like a filter for acceptance. But the more I became a student of God’s love for me the more he trashed my filter.
I don’t want my faith to stink. I don’t want to pollute it. I don’t want to water it down. But I don’t want to beat people up with it either.
I think faith is at its best when it’s challenging me to embrace the work Jesus is still trying to do in me. When I get it right it’s winsome and it is inviting. It’s not repulsive or repellant. It’s compelling and endearing.
Often, well-intentioned followers of Jesus wield love like a test; but when you make love a test everyone fails.
There was a lady in the Bible having dinner with Jesus and his friends. Suddenly she took out a jar of extremely expensive perfume and just poured it on Jesus’ feet. It was her way of saying she knew her life was smelly. So, she gave up something dear to the only One who could really do anything about it.
Do you know what happened next in the story? While this lady Mary was crying and cleaning Jesus’ feet with her hair in a beautiful act of love; all the cranky religious people were busy being upset. They were surrounded by the literal smell of an unparalleled act of love. And were too busy making a stink to even catch the significance.
I don’t ever want to try to catch a skunk again. It did not go well. I don’t want to let anything stinky into my life. Instead I want to offer what I can to Jesus. I want to love as many people as possible. I want to let his work in me shape me into someone who is helping people find him.
I’m convinced all of us can stop being offended. We’re only offended because of our pride, and our pride stinks. Jesus didn’t die for our pride. He paid a high price for our invitation into a better way to live. Our every breath is another opportunity to learn it.