I started making sourdough (ahem) before it was cool and I was shocked by how simple it is. To make a great loaf of sourdough, all you need is flour, water, and salt. However, you can’t just lump those ingredients together in a bowl and expect something edible to emerge. You have to set just the right conditions, folding each in at the right time and in the right way in order for them to transform into delicious bread.

Spiritual growth happens in a similar way. Our sanctification progresses best in a culture where the leaders have labored to cultivate the right conditions for spiritual growth.

God models this for us at creation. Francis Collins, in The Language of God, talks about how the universe consists of fifteen constants that we know of—the strength of nuclear forces, the speed of light, the gravitational constant, etc.—each of which is essential to the flourishing of human life on earth. If just one of these constants were tweaked up or down, the universe would be uninhabitable for God’s image-bearers. This is the kind of careful intentionality that God has brought to his creation, setting exactly the right conditions for the flourishing of everything under his care.

Our job is to reflect God’s image as culture makers by setting the conditions in which maturity in Christ can take root and bloom. 

At the risk of being overly simplistic, part of this means setting a particular vibe. What do people experience when they walk in the door of our ministries? What sense do they get about who this ministry is for (or not for), who it hopes they become, and how it intends to get them there?

In 2 Corinthians 2:14-17, Paul uses the vivid imagery of a Roman victory parade to help us think about this. 

By using the language of a “triumphal procession” he’s drawing on the practice of Rome to throw lavish parades after a great victory in battle. In these processions, the victors would parade through the streets, pulling prisoners behind them, displaying the treasures of the conquered peoples, burning incense to the Roman gods who (supposedly) aided them in battle. And if you were on the winning side, this incense would be the smell of triumph. But to those who were defeated, it was the smell of death—the death behind them in battle and, for some, the death in front of them in execution.

One of the things Paul is saying through this image is that we are the incense. You and I are “the aroma of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” To the world, Christ’s people are the sweet smell of Christ’s victory over sin and death. You and I are meant to be a whiff of Jesus in the garden on Easter morning, tenderly calling out Mary’s name. You and I are meant to be the perfume of him who knew no sin but became sin for us, that we might become the righteousness of God.

To be sure, Paul is clear that Christ’s aroma will be the sweet smell of life to some and the intolerable stench of death to others. Our work as Christian leaders is not to attempt to make Christ smell pleasant to the world (as if we could ever do such a thing) but to cultivate the scent of him in our ministries and entrust the world’s response to the work of his Spirit.

But here’s the question: what is the aroma of Christ? What’s the scent we should be giving off, the vibe we should seek to cultivate in our ministries? One way to describe it is this: curious, deep, fun, gracious, hopeful. 

 

Curious – “I am seen here.” 

Jesus was constantly engaging those around him with curiosity—quick to listen, slow to speak, slow to become angry, and answering questions with more questions. When people encountered Jesus in the gospels, they did not encounter a distracted, disinterested, or self-important man, but a man who truly saw people and honored their questions. In a way that was life-giving for many and terrifying for some, they knew that they were truly seen by him. What would it smell like if our ministries gave off the same aroma?

 

Deep – “I could wade, swim, or scuba in God’s goodness here.”

Jesus applied the beauty of God’s grace to the complexities of people, life, and faith. His ministry was marked by incredible depth. Perhaps this is an inelegant way to put it, but to hang around Jesus is to get the sense that one could wade, swim, or even scuba in the grace he offered. His ministry was—and through his Church still is—accessible enough for the thief on the cross, rich enough to challenge the mind and heart of Nicodemus, and attractive to both and all in between. 

 

Fun – “I can make friends here.” 

I don’t think it’s too much of a stretch to say that Jesus knew how to mix it up in a normal and fun way with the people around him. Matthew 11 tells us that “the Son of Man came eating and drinking.” When he illustrates the dynamics of the Kingdom for us in Luke 15, he tells three stories—about a lost sheep, a coin, and two sons—each of which climaxes in a party. Rather than experiencing him as humorless and austere, many seemed to feel a sense of ease around Jesus, letting down their guards, especially those who seemed most aware of their spiritual poverty. Jesus was twice called the “friend of sinners” in the gospels, and at least part of the reason is because he had fun with them as their actual friend. When our friends and neighbors draw near to Jesus’ people, they should experience the same.

 

Gracious – “I can make a mistake here and still be okay.” 

Think of Peter’s character arc in the New Testament. Whether confessing Jesus as the Christ, cutting off the Centurion’s ear, denying his relationship to Jesus, or separating himself from Gentile Christians, he served boldly and he failed boldly. And Jesus never gave up on him. Jesus was compassionate with Peter in his failures, just as he is with us and those we shepherd. His aroma is ever characterized by grace. He invented the process of sanctification, and he knows better than we do that the good work he began in us will not be complete until the day of his return. Since he’s not yet finished with any of us, we are free to be gracious with ourselves and others along the way. 

 

Hopeful – “People here are for me.”

If anyone ever had a right to be cynical, it’s Jesus. He understands the full impact of how short of God’s glory we fall, of how deeply his creation groans under the weight of our sin. But rather than ministering out of cynical frustration, Jesus ministers with patient hope, knowing that no person, place, or thing is beyond God’s redemptive reach. As Jesus embodied this hope, those who felt hopeless were drawn to him. Whether it was Mary Magdalene with her demons, Zaccheaus with his thievery and greed, or the Samaritan woman with her many lovers, they came to know that Jesus was for them and would never leave them or forsake them. As we live under Jesus’ hopeful rule, we should work to give off that same scent to those in and around our ministries. 

Years ago, at the church we attended in seminary, we worshiped in a musty old building owned by a theater company. One time, we had a squirrel get loose in the sanctuary after the benediction. It was not the sort of building that greeted people with welcoming smells upon entering. However, there was another smell that competed with the musty old-building smell: freshly baked bread. One of our Ruling Elders baked the bread for communion every week, and you could smell it throughout the service. It was one of my favorite things about Sunday worship. Every week, as worship went on, the smell of freshly baked bread would slowly fill the room. And it was a sweet reminder that the climax of our worship every week was Jesus himself, the bread of life, broken for us, inviting us to feast with him, on him, at his table. In a sense, in 2 Corinthians 2, Paul is saying, “This is you. You are the sweet smell of homemade bread in a world gone musty. You are the smell of the gracious triumph of Jesus over sin and death.” 

And Paul knew the weighty truth of what he wrote in that passage. At first, the aroma of Jesus’ triumph was the stench of death to him, so much so that he hunted down Christians to zealously persecute them. But, praise God, that was not the end of his story. Nor is it the end of ours. Paul’s is precisely the sort of reversal that Jesus loves to bring. And when you step into ministry, you do so as one who has been brought by Jesus from death to life, from condemnation to loving embrace, from orphan to beloved child, from enslaved to sin to free in Christ, from hell-bound to Glory-bound.

So let us work and pray that our ministries become communities where people are seen, engaged deeply, and befriended as they receive grace in failure and hope in trial. As we do so, our friends and neighbors will catch a whiff of their only Hope in life and in death, and Jesus’ people will be equipped to grow into joyful, sacrificial, resilient, and fruitful followers of him.

 

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