Making Granola Always Makes Me Think About Jesus.

Now, I realize that that's not a typical sentiment, so I'll do my best to explain. Granola stinks. It's a delicious-smelling stench, but there's no escaping it. I have never, ever, ever made granola without someone coming through the kitchen to tell me that they could smell it clear up in the north end of camp. You can smell it in the staff houses, in the meeting halls, even up on the nature trail (it makes me feel bad for those hungry firefighters and lumber yard workers down the street)! People usually ask if it's chocolate chip cookies or cake that they are smelling, and they invariably end their trip through the dining hall with an extra-long breath and happy sigh.
The thing about being the granola-maker though, is that with every opening and closing of the oven door, which all you camp cook types know is near constant, the granola's fragrance is pushed into your every fiber and pore. I sometimes change my clothes after making a batch, but its scent lingers, clinging to me, until I shower.


2Corinthians 2:14 But thanks be to God, who always leads us in triumph in Christ, and manifests through us the sweet aroma of the knowledge of Him in every place.

Granola's fragrance, as overpowering as it can be, is fleeting. Are there times in my life where the aroma of Christ is as well? Does it remain in my pores after fruitful study, examination of my heart, and prayer only to be washed away or covered up by the world? Or my own apathy?