Heavenly Scent

Introduction:

Good morning, church. Today I want to talk about something we all feel but don’t always know how to describe. Holiness. Living a holy life right here, in a world that often seems allergic to it. The question is as old as faith itself: How in the world can I be holy?

That question isn’t for monks on a mountain or saints in stained-glass windows. It’s for parents juggling bills, students fighting peer pressure, employees working in places where God is mocked or ignored. It’s for every one of us.

Let me start with a story.

There was once a wild duck flying north in spring. He spotted a Danish barnyard and thought he’d rest for a day. The corn was good, the pond was close, and the farmer threw out feed. “Just for a day,” he told himself.

Days became weeks. Weeks became months. When autumn came, he heard his friends overhead heading south. He flapped hard but couldn’t lift off. The easy food had dulled his wings. The next spring, he heard them again, and this time he didn’t even try. By the following fall he hardly noticed them at all.

Holiness isn’t about leaving the world. It’s about refusing to let the barnyard settle into your soul. Jesus prayed in John 17:15, “I do not ask that You take them out of the world, but that You keep them from the evil one.” We are in it, but not of it.

The challenge is clear: How do we live with heavenly scent in an earthly barnyard? How do we carry God’s fragrance where we work, study, and shop without absorbing the smell of sin? Scripture gives a threefold answer: a new mind, a new covering, and a new atmosphere. Let’s walk the first path together.

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A New Mind

Philippians 2:5 says, “Let this mind be in you which was also in Christ Jesus.” Romans 12:2 adds, “Do not be conformed to this world, but be transformed by the renewing of your mind.” Notice the verb: let. Holiness begins not with straining but with surrender. God asks permission to reshape our thinking.

The battle for holiness is mostly won or lost between our ears. Before an action is taken or a word is spoken, a thought is formed. If the thought is captured by Christ, the act will follow. If not, the world’s pattern wins by default.

Philippians 4:8 gives the pattern: “Whatever is true, whatever is noble, whatever is just, whatever is pure, whatever is lovely, whatever is of good report—think on these things.” Think on these things. Not just read about them. Dwell on them until they become the operating system of your life.

Worldliness isn’t scenery. It’s a value system. It calls temporary things ultimate and eternal things optional. Conformity is passive. Stand still and the world will shape you. Transformation is active, the Spirit renewing your mind.

Let’s bring it down to Monday morning. What fills your mind when you first wake? News feeds? Emails? Worry about work? Before long, those thoughts shape your heart and set your mood. But what if the first words you saw were God’s? What if your first conversation was prayer instead of headlines? That’s not pious exaggeration. It’s a practical way to let Christ reset the day before the world claims it.

Paul writes in 2 Corinthians 10:5, “We take captive every thought to make it obedient to Christ.” That isn’t a slogan. It’s a strategy. When an anxious or angry thought knocks, you don’t have to open the door. You can say, “This house belongs to Jesus.” Surrender is a moment-by-moment yes to the Spirit’s direction.

Maybe you’ve tried willpower and felt the string snap. Here’s the good news: you don’t overcome darkness by staring at it. You overcome darkness by turning on the light.

Fill your mind with the Word until it sings in your heart. Let worship music wash through your car. Memorize a single verse and repeat it when the commute drags or the meeting grows tense. Feed on Christ and starve the world’s influence.

Holiness is not about retreating from life. It is Christ living His life through yours. A classic devotional says it well: when you consent, Christ so identifies Himself with your thoughts and aims that when obeying Him, you will be carrying out your own impulses. His will becomes your joy.

Some of us grew up thinking holiness meant sinless posing, as if God is impressed by our masks. But holiness is a heart so surrendered that obedience feels natural. Like breathing. Like the string on a kite.

Remember the kite story we tell the kids? The kite thought the string held it down, until it snapped and discovered that string was the only thing holding it up. God’s commands are that string. They don’t hold you back; they hold you high.