When I stepped out the door to walk the big dog, I had no idea I wouldn’t be able to see to the end of the street. We rarely get fog so this was a rare treat. I love walking in a predawn fog.
It’s disconcerting. Suddenly, the same houses and neighborhood look completely different. Have I been here before? I feel disoriented. Where am I? Where is my house? How will I get back home? Take a breath. Just keep turning left and you’ll be back at your house in no time.
It’s beautiful, but distressing. The clouds have descended and stolen the sunrise. They have hidden the horizon. How will we get them back? Take a breath. The fog never stays for long.
It’s confusing. Maybe my glasses are dirty. Wait. I don’t wear glasses. I’ll rub my eyes, and everything will clear up. Right?
Is it a fire? We had wild fires just a half a mile from our home. The smoke was dense when we evacuated. Thankfully, when the smoke cleared and we returned, our house was still there, unharmed.
It could be the darkness closing in. Yoda said, “The dark side clouds everything.” I don’t want to start down that dark path. I might never return. Maybe I should just turn around and go back in the house.
It could be a dream. I’ll wake up any minute and the Florida sun will still rule the sky. Everything will be bright and clear. If I can just open my eyes.
The sky is just beginning to lighten in the eastern sky. As we (my dog and I) turn the corner and head into the final stretch of our morning walk, the smell of cigarette smoke hits our noses.
Really? At 6 am? Sure enough, someone is out on their back patio, under their pool screen enclosure, enjoying their first smoke of the day. I’ve never smoked, so I don’t understand the habit. I’ve been told it’s a difficult addiction to overcome. Growing up, I smelled it all the time since my mom smoked a lot at home. Now, smoking isn’t allowed in many public places, so I immediately notice it.
On other walks, we notice the slightly sweet smell of marijuana as we walk past a house in the neighborhood. I became familiar with that smell at college a few years ago, even though I didn’t ever try it. Weed isn’t technically allowed either, but that doesn’t deter those who enjoy it first thing in the morning.
Then there’s my neighbor just a few houses up who prefers his tobacco in a pipe. How often do you see someone with a pipe in their mouth? The smell of burning tobacco wafts up the street as he zips along shirtless in his electric wheelchair, beneath a wide-brimmed hat.
Just when I think smoking has disappeared from our culture, I notice smoke shops in strip malls and impressive cigar selections in liquor stores, which are right alongside the medical marijuana dispensaries. I suppose there are enough smokers out there (and on my block) to keep places like these in business.
I think it’s interesting that I’m always aware of the smell of a cigarette. It’s neither pleasant nor revolting, but distinctive and noticeable.
I was feeling confident about my culinary expertise when something as simple as cooking oil humbled me.
In my defense, it was not my kitchen, so I was using an unfamiliar pan, range, and ingredients. I was at my daughter’s house where my wife and I were staying with a couple of granddaughters while their mom gave birth to number three.
I brought a small ribeye steak with me for supper the first night. At home I would just throw it on the grill. No grill here, so I got ready to pan fry it. At home I would reach for my cast iron frying pan. My daughter had a very nice set of stainless steel cookware. A pan’s a pan, right?
I let it warm up on medium heat while I ground a little salt and pepper onto the meat. Holding my hand over the pan, I could tell it was ready. I grabbed the non-stick spray from the cabinet and gave the pan a quick shot. Even though I quickly took it off the burner, a cloud of smoke filled the kitchen. I turned on the fan only to discover it wasn’t vented to the outside. The smoke alarms started beeping, my wife open the sliding glass door to the backyard and tried to fan the bad smoke out and the good air in. The oldest granddaughter asked, “What are you doing, grandpa?”
It looked like I had no idea what I was doing. I did recover and the steak tasted great. The pan was a pain to clean. I had much to learn about cooking with oil.
I did some quick research online. If I’m are cooking at high temperatures, refined avocado, safflower, and light olive oil work well. At medium temperatures, use corn, coconut, sunflower, and canola oil. Vegetable shortening, extra virgin olive oil, and butter are for lower temperatures. I’ve got a lot to learn, though. Some of those oils taste better certain sauces, marinades, and dressings than others.
For the next two days, the odor of burning oil greeted my nose every time I walked into their house. However, as we packed up to leave today, the smell was just about all gone. Whew.
“Live and in person” Advent devotion for December 11, 2020. Read Exodus 40:34-38 and Psalm 81.
So finally, after all the work collecting materials and crafting the tabernacle, the portable worship center for the newly free nation of Israel was ready. The curtains are in place, the table is in place, the lampstand is in place, the altar and basin are in place, the ark is in its place and the priests are sanctified and ready to do their jobs. Now the cloud which will lead them on their journey (and will be a pillar of fire at night) covers the tent as the glory of the Lord fills the tabernacle. No one can go in. It’s occupied by a holy God, live and in person with His people.
We have a fog machine at church that we’ve used for Vacation Bible School special effects. I got it out a couple of years ago for a Transfiguration Sunday children’s sermon. It almost worked too good. Any more smoke and I think we would have set off the fire sprinklers! I do not need that kind of excitement on a Sunday morning.
The idea of a smoke-filled room can be good news or bad news. If the cassarole in the oven is burning, it’s bad news. If some policies and procedures are being ironed out, it could be good news. If all that incense makes you wheeze and cough, it’s bad news. If it’s the sweet-smelling prayers of God’s people ascending to heaven, that’s good. If the Advent wreath is on fire, that’s bad. If the sanctuary is filled with VBS kids, that’s good!
For the nation of Israel, the smoke of God’s presence in the tabernacle was very, very good news. It meant that their God was with them wherever they went. He would not leave them nor forsake them. He would be with them always, to the end. They would never be on their own to survive, navigate their journey, or fight an enemy. God was with them!
When I was a pastor of a church in Connecticut, I went to a pastor’s conference at a retreat center on the southern coast. It was a really nice place, with great meeting spaces and pretty good food. The pastor in charge of worship was pretty high church. When we met in the chapel of the retreat center, I experienced my first incense-filled evening prayer service. Where I grew up, we never did that. But here, it was a reminder of our prayer and the Lord’s presence.
A few months ago I preached at a colleague’s church for the anniversary of his ordination. I noticed a censor in the front of his church. I asked, “How often do you use that?” He said, “Every week. I light the incense and walk around the sanctuary about an hour before our worship. The smoke and aroma lingers just enough to remind us of our prayers and God’s presence.” I really appreciated his efforts. I had never had this experience.
How about you? Would a cloud of aromatic smoke remind you of God’s presence in our worship? Or do other sensory reminders draw you into the presence of the Savior?
Thank you, Lord, for all the reminders of your presence in our worship and in our lives. Amen.
Waite for it... 