Not long ago, I was enjoying a shower-free Saturday and working a little harder than usual in the basement. Just before dinner, I was sitting at the computer and I noticed an odd aroma. At first, I didn’t know what it was, and then it dawned on me that it was me. I immediately shuffled off to the shower before I spoiled my family’s dinner.

Until you smell yourself, you don’t even suspect that you might need a shower. The problem is, other people can smell you long before you can smell yourself. For some reason, we’re somewhat immune to our own scent and we don’t even suspect that we might reek until we’ve been really stinky for a really, really long time.

It is no different with our sin. We are somewhat immune to noticing the stench of our own sins until we’ve allowed them to pollute our lives almost completely. Before I was saved, I was great at comparing myself to other stinking, sinning people and convincing myself that I didn’t smell as bad as they did. Some people, some nominal Christians, go through their entire lives this way. They’re kind of like the ‘deadheads’ of old, thinking a little patchouli oil (good works) will cover up the smell.

God knew that I was rotten to the core and His Holy Spirit convicted me of my sins and let me smell myself for the first time. He put it into my mind (and my nostrils) that I definitely needed a shower. He did that through a preacher who could smell me and was bold enough to tell me that I stank. God also made it clear that no water on earth could wash me as clean as I needed to be. Only the blood of Jesus, the Lamb of God could wash my soul spotlessly clean. Revelation 7:14

Though I still enjoy a shower-free Saturday once in a while and like to think I don’t smell *that* bad, I am much more attuned to the smell of my own sins. Praise God that He rescued me from the patchouli-tainted works of my “carnal Christian” life and led me to trust completely in His Amazing Grace.

It was a diorama about twelve inches square and nine inches high. It depicted a simply appointed living room with a chair, a carpet, a door, and a woman vacuuming. It was an ordinary scene with absolutely nothing remarkable about it. What made this piece of art so memorable to me was what was going on outside the room.

Outside was a fanciful array of men and monsters of all different colors, sizes and shapes. Their tentacles, arms, legs and eyes were all interwoven and they surrounded the room and the woman doing her chores. Inside was a scene of mundane toil; outside was total chaos.

UPDATE: Here is the work of art described above. Click for a larger version.

That piece of artwork depicted my life at the time. To the casual observer, I was an average guy working an average job living in an average house and driving an average car. My main worries were losing my job, losing my wife, losing my house, losing my car and my dwindling bank account.

Since saving faith was granted to me by God through Jesus, I really don’t worry much about my job or whether I will have enough food or clothing (Luke 12:29-31), nor even about having enough money. Strangely enough, I still identify with this piece of artwork and am still concerned with many things.

The monsters lurking outside my window today are my sins that I don’t want to do, but keep doing (Romans 7:15); my unsaved family (both those who claim to know Christ but produce no fruit and those who overtly deny Him); my friends at church who seem biblically illiterate and apathetic about the Gospel;  people I work with who are trapped in a legalistic religion; and what, if anything, I can do to help bring these people to Christ.

For now I think I will pray about it (1 Peter 5:7), be still, and know that God reigns. (Psalm 46:10)

Here’s why.

As long as I’ve been typing (or “keyboarding” as my kids call it) I’ve used my right hand to hit the first digit of the year. I took my first typing class in 81. In 83 I took my first computer class in high school. When I went to college I spent a lot of time on a keyboard typing computer programs and term papers. Every time I entered the year, I went to the 8 with my middle finger.

In the 90s I worked at three different companies and always had a computer for drafting and CAD design work. Moving from 89 to 90 wasn’t a big deal at all; each digit was just one position to the right. It was the same scenario going from 99 to 00; just one digit over to the right.

Now along comes the dreaded 10.

For nearly 30 years, I’ve been going to my right to type the year. Now I need to go to my left and it is a radical change of a long, long-time habit.

Though this typing change is trivial in comparison, I think there are parallels between this and Jesus’ words to Nicodemus about being born anew in John 3:3. Nicodemus didn’t understand how anyone could be born again – it just didn’t make sense to his worldly, works-based mind. But Jesus was talking about a change, a radical change that goes all the way back to the beginning stages of life and learning. Nicodemus had to first unlearn what he had learned and then relearn the way of the Gospel. This is why Jesus said we must be like little children. My youngest daughter had no trouble going from typing 09 to typing 10 because she’s been typing for less than a year.

The older we get and the longer we cling to our traditions, the harder it is make the changes that Jesus demands. I have family that were born and raised in the Roman church and they thoroughly believe that they can’t change. Not that they won’t change, but that they absolutely can not change.

Making even small changes in our lives is difficult; how much more so the big changes that require us to start all over again. Every time I struggle to use the smallest finger of my left hand to hit the 1 instead of using my right ring finger to hit the 0 I’m going to think about what it means to be born anew. 2 Corinthians 5:17

* Yes. I know that the decade doesn’t end until December 31 of 10, but typing 11 will be way easier than typing 10 and my point would be lost if I waited a year to publish this.