Lyn Cooke Christian Blog and Commentary

A Sweet Perfume

I found this little poem in one of my favorite daily devotions.  It so hit home with me.

These days {as I mentioned in an earlier post}, I don't feel like I am much of a blessing. I've even told the Lord so!  I have had seasons when I felt like I could reach out and touch God. His presence was so tangible to me!  I've had seasons when His word blossomed before me and became three dimensional. Reading the Bible was invigorating and exciting!

This is not one of those seasons.

But I come every morning to my little rocking chair and my time-worn Bible to meet with Him.  I come because He has lead me out of the dark valley of depression and the grip of addiction. I come because He has pulled me out of a pit of sin that I dug all by myself. I come because He has rescued me from more disasters than I can count. I come because He has wrapped me in affection when I felt utterly abandoned and alone. I come because He has thrilled me with unspeakable joy when I least expected it.

I know He is real. I know He is good. And I know He loves me. So. . .  I come.

As I read these words I realized that regardless of how I feel or what season I'm in,  as I spend time with Jesus, He changes me.  I become more like Him.  I take on His fragrance, His sweet perfume.

Others will know that I have spent time with Christ.  I will wear His perfume.

A Persian fable says: One day a wanderer found a lump of clay so redolent of sweet perfume its odors scented all the room.  "What are thou?" was his quick demand, "Art thou some gem from Samarcand, or spikenard in this rude disguise, or other costly merchandise"?

 "Nay, I am but a lump of clay."  

"Then whence this wondrous perfume---say!"  "Friend, if the secret I disclose, I have been dwelling with the rose."  Sweet parable!  And will not those who love to dwell with Sharon's rose, distill sweet odors all around, though low and mean themselves are found? 

Dear Lord, abide with us that we may draw our perfume fresh from Thee.    

                                                               Mrs. Charles E. Cowman, Streams in the Desert

Blow upon my garden that the spices thereof may flow out.  

Song of Solomon 4:16