Unity: The Aroma of Christ

As we sat in the doctor’s office waiting for her appointment, I massaged my wife’s sore neck and shoulders. I had volunteered, but the truth be known, I would have rather not. I’m selfish. The choice between the book I’d brought along and blessing her should have been obvious. It wasn’t. But once I got started, I did it wholeheartedly. I saw another woman watching us with great interest as we chatted and I searched for knots in the tight muscles. When she made eye contact, she said, “I’m jealous! I wish my husband would do that for me…”

I don’t claim to be a good husband, but my wife’s pain bothers me--first, because it hurts her, and secondly, because it can't help but affect everyone in the family. It’s the nature of family to not just share a formalized commitment or genetics (increasingly a “too confining” definition), a home (for a season), a common last name (not necessarily), mealtimes (occasionally) and all the germs that come in the door. It’s the nature of family to share difficulties and joys; to listen when ears are tired; to speak truth when it hurts because lies hurt more; to invest in another’s good at great personal cost. A functional family is a unit of people unlike in gender, age, and interests sharing life together. It is a unity. And like true beauty, it is attractive because it’s both the ideal and it’s uncommon.

The lady in the waiting room may have wanted a back rub, but she longed to be cared for, to be incredibly important to someone. Seeing my feeble attempts to give that to my wife stirred up a hunger in her. Instead of loving my wife, I could have spoken to the woman about God’s love and perhaps we would have had a nice conversation. But most often, when our words are segregated from action, they have little impact and do not stir hunger for God. Something to tantalize the appetite is needed.

When it’s getting to mealtime, but I’m busy and preoccupied, and I drive by a restaurant sign, I usually ignore their words. But when the incredible smell of well seasoned grilled steak come into the window of my car, I suddenly know I’m hungry; I’m very hungry indeed. The aroma both reminds me that I haven’t eaten and it proves that a restaurant is nearby.

This leads me to Jesus’ strange words about unity.

…May they be brought to complete unity to let the world know that you sent me and have loved them even as you have loved me. (John 17:23)

I’ve read the metaphysical, theological musings about this passage. I suspicion that many are accurate, but entirely miss the point. Unity and love are not theological ideas, they are a way of life based on decisions—as simple as a back rub and as hard as choosing an unselfish act. The world often scoffs at our rhetoric as just another passing sign to be ignored and place of worship as another building cluttering the landscape. But it doesn’t scoff at back rubs. They are the tantalizing aroma that reminds them they are hungry and proves that food is nearby. Although our words about Jesus are very important, it seems that the proof of our words is our love for one another and our unity. At least that’s what Jesus said.

2 Corinthians 2:15 For we are to God the aroma of Christ among those who are being saved and those who are perishing.

John 13:35 By this all men will know that you are my disciples, if you love one another.