Offer the other lamb in the evening, along with the same offerings of flour and wine as in the morning. It will be a pleasing aroma, a special gift presented to the Lord. [Exodus 29:41 (NLT)]
But the internal organs and the legs must first be washed with water. Then the priest will burn the entire sacrifice on the altar as a burnt offering. It is a special gift, a pleasing aroma to the Lord. [Leviticus 1:9 (NLT)]
The gardenias were blooming. The aroma of those beautiful flowers filled the air as I walked that morning and I paused in my walk just to inhale and relish the pleasant scent.
In the Old Testament, the Hebrews were instructed to offer sacrificial burnt offerings on their altars as gifts to God, making a “pleasing aroma to the Lord.” As a vegetarian, I found it difficult to picture how the odor of burned meat could be considered pleasant. That morning, however, I finally understood the verse’s meaning. It wasn’t the sacrifice of meat that smelled good to God; it was the prayers that accompanied the burnt offerings that made the pleasing aroma.
As I breathed in the scent of the flowers, I wondered, “Is this how God feels when He hears our prayers?” I want my prayers to be as fragrant and pleasing to God as the gardenias were to me. Perhaps gardenia isn’t your favorite scent; maybe it’s the aroma of fresh baked ginger cookies or, in my husband’s case, fresh cooked bacon. Either way, let your prayers be as pleasing to God as your favorite aromas are to you! By the way, I have a sneaky suspicion that praise and thanksgiving smell best to Him; whiny complaints probably smell a bit like burnt toast!
O Lord, please accept my prayers as a sacrifice of praise and thanksgiving. May you always find them sweet smelling.
My husband and I joke that our marriage survived because we agreed that whoever filed for divorce had to take sole custody of the children! Knowing that it took two of us to deal with the three of them, we stayed married. Now that the children are grown, we remain together because whoever files must relinquish all grandparenting rights. Since neither one of us is willing to forfeit time with the delightful grands, we continue to remain together. All joking aside, we’ll soon be commemorating a half century of marriage.
Immediately after finishing yesterday’s devotion about conflict and prayer, I received a call from a friend whose 11-year old granddaughter, Anna, has osteosarcoma (bone cancer). Having undergone chemotherapy for the past two months, she is scheduled for surgery this week. In the best case scenario, her knee and part of her femur will be removed and replaced by a metal prostheses; the worst case scenario involves complete amputation of the leg. In either case, more chemo and at least six to twelve months of physical therapy will follow.
While reading C.S. Lewis’ The Horse and His Boy, I couldn’t help but think of the proud Babylonian King Nebuchadnezzar. He was so full of himself that he erected a 90-foot golden statue and then demanded that people fall down and worship it as a sign of loyalty to him. When interpreting one of the king’s dreams, Daniel told Nebuchadnezzar that he would be driven from human society and only regain his kingdom when the king learned that heaven, not man, rules. The king was warned to change his evil behavior. In spite of the caution and even though he’d seen the power of the Israelites’ one true God when Shadrach, Meshach, and Abednego survived the fiery furnace, Nebuchadnezzar didn’t change his ways. While looking down from his rooftop and surveying the wonders of Babylon, he expressed pride in his accomplishments and congratulated himself on his mighty power. Before the words were even out of his mouth, a voice from heaven pronounced judgment upon him. The king developed what is known as boanthropy, a psychological disorder in which one becomes delusional and thinks he or she is a cow. The high and mighty king was driven from society and lived and ate like an animal for the next seven years.
His testimony enraged the Jewish high council and he was taken from the city and stoned to death. Stephen was the first of the Christian martyrs but clearly not the last. We’ve all been horror-stricken by the recent news from Egypt where ISIS thugs attacked Coptic Christians on their way to a remote monastery. According to witnesses, the men were told their lives would be spared if they recited the shahada, the Islamic declaration of faith. When they refused to do so, they were gunned down. Since December, more than 100 Coptic Christians have died in Egypt in four different attacks. On Palm Sunday, two of their churches were bombed leaving forty-four dead. It’s not easy being a Christian in Egypt.
The “Last Lecture,” a tradition at many universities, is given by a professor as if it is the last one delivered in the speaker’s lifetime. Hoping to inspire the audience to become better versions of themselves, the lecturer usually reflects on his life’s journey and shares his hard-earned wisdom. New meaning was given to this tradition in 2007 when Randy Pausch, a professor at Carnegie Mellon University, gave what truly was his last lecture. Terminally ill with pancreatic cancer, he was dead less than a year after giving it.
Devotions of the Heart 