“Get Me a Car That Doesn’t Stink”**
When I was a captain at the Air Force Academy, I had the honor—and the anxiety—of escorting General Hornburg, the ACC Commander, during a visit for Corona. That was when all the generals came together for a high-level meeting, and it was the kind of event where *everything had to be perfect*.
So, being young and eager to make a good impression, I made sure I had the very best car in the fleet. It was the newest, cleanest, and a different color so it could be spotted from afar. I was proud of it—it looked sharp, and I thought I was ready to do my part for national security.
I went to meet the General at his lodging to take him to the Officer’s Club—a trip of less than a quarter of a mile. As we got in the car, I felt confident. But the first real conversation he had with me wasn’t about strategy, or flying, or even the Air Force. He looked around, wrinkled his nose a little, and said,
“Um, David… sometime today, get me a car that *doesn’t stink!*”
My heart stopped.
“Yes, sir!” I said, and then panicked.
I called transportation immediately, and within an hour, I had a completely new car delivered. We transferred all his belongings over, cleaned everything up, and when he came back out of the Officer’s Club, the new car was waiting—spotless, fresh, and ready. He blinked in surprise and said,
> “Darn, boy—I meant sometime today, not *right now*! But wow!”
At that moment, national security was safe once again.
That event reminded me of something deeply spiritual: sometimes what looks fine to us still “stinks” to a higher authority. We can look at our lives, polish them up, make them look good on the outside, but God can still detect what we cannot. He is not impressed by outward shine—He’s concerned with inward purity.
And in the Old Testament, God gave Israel a vivid picture of what that inner cleansing looks like. We find that in Leviticus 14—the cleansing of a leper. It’s a strange passage, full of symbols: cedar wood, hyssop, and a scarlet thread. But together, these three things form a picture of the cleansing work of Jesus Christ that reaches deeper than any outward act ever could.
Let’s explore this “hidden gem” and discover how God used these symbols to reveal His plan for total spiritual cleansing. Today’s sermon is entitled, Cedar Hyssop and National Security. Let’s start by reading Leviticus 14:1-7, “The Lord said to Moses, 2 “These are the regulations for any diseased person at the time of their ceremonial cleansing, when they are brought to the priest: 3 The priest is to go outside the camp and examine them. If they have been healed of their defiling skin disease,[a] 4 the priest shall order that two live clean birds and some cedar wood, scarlet yarn and hyssop be brought for the person to be cleansed. 5 Then the priest shall order that one of the birds be killed over fresh water in a clay pot. 6 He is then to take the live bird and dip it, together with the cedar wood, the scarlet yarn and the hyssop, into the blood of the bird that was killed over the fresh water. 7 Seven times he shall sprinkle the one to be cleansed of the defiling disease, and then pronounce them clean. After that, he is to release the live bird in the open fields..
Leviticus 14 describes the ritual for cleansing someone healed from leprosy. In ancient Israel, leprosy represented the ultimate defilement it was incurable, isolating, and socially devastating. The leper was considered ceremonially unclean, cut off from worship, family, and community.
Leprosy in the Bible is considered the *picture of sin*. It begins small but spreads silently. It numbs sensitivity. It disfigures what was once whole. And like sin, it isolates us from God and others.
When the leper was healed, he had to go through an elaborate ceremony before being restored to the camp. The priest would go outside the camp to meet him (v. 3)—symbolic of how Jesus came down from heaven to where we were, outside the camp of holiness, to meet us in our uncleanness.
Then, the ritual required:
Two clean birds; Cedar wood; Scarlet yarn (thread); and Hyssop
One bird was killed over running water. The living bird, the cedar wood, the hyssop, and the scarlet thread were dipped in the blood of the slain bird, and then the living bird was set free. The person was sprinkled seven times and pronounced clean.
It seems strange. But every detail speaks of Christ. And each element—cedar, hyssop, and scarlet—points to a different part of His cleansing work in our lives.
I. The Cedar – The Strength of the Savior
Cedar wood was prized in the ancient world for its durability, fragrance, and resistance to decay. Kings built their palaces with it. The temple of Solomon was lined with it. Cedar was the symbol of strength, incorruption, and majesty. It represents the incorruptible nature of Christ.
Unlike every human being, Jesus was untouched by the decay of sin. Even in death, His body “did not see corruption” (Acts 2:27). The cedar reminds us that our cleansing does not come from one who is just like us—it comes from the sinless Son of God. We cannot cleanse ourselves with something corrupt. Only the incorruptible can cleanse the corruptible.
Just as cedar resists rot, Jesus resists sin. Just as cedar endures through the years, Jesus endures forever.
Cedar also grew high and tall in Lebanon. It symbolized loftiness and power. Psalm 92:12 says, “The righteous shall flourish like the palm tree; he shall grow like a cedar in Lebanon.”
The cedar reminds us that Christ’s cleansing power comes from His divine majesty. He was not just a man who died—He was the King who came down. He took the lowliness of our condition without losing the loftiness of His divinity.
The cedar tells us something about our identity in Christ. Once we are cleansed, we share in His incorruptibility. Paul said, in 1 Corinthians 15:53, “This corruptible must put on incorruption”
So, when the leper was sprinkled with the blood upon cedar wood, it was a declaration:
“You are now joined to something that cannot decay.”
God not only forgives our sin—He connects us to His own enduring strength.
II. The Hyssop – The Humility of the Cross
In contrast to the tall cedar, the hyssop was a small, humble plant. It grew in cracks along stone walls, often overlooked and ordinary. It was used for sprinkling blood in purification rituals. We find that in Exodus 12, Psalm 51:7, John 19:29.
Where cedar speaks of majesty, hyssop speaks of humility.
During the first Passover in Egypt, we see in Exodus 12:22 that the Israelites took a branch of hyssop to apply the blood of the lamb to their doorposts. That hyssop became the instrument of salvation—without it, the blood would have remained in the container and done no good.
In Psalm 51:7, David cried, “Purge me with hyssop, and I shall be clean.” Hyssop was the tool of cleansing.
And on the cross, when Jesus said “I thirst,” in John 19:29 the Roman soldiers lifted a sponge of sour wine to His mouth—on a stalk of hyssop. Even there, the symbol reappears. The One who was the true Passover Lamb was touched by hyssop as He bore our uncleanness.
Hyssop grows low to the ground—it’s accessible. It doesn’t tower above like cedar. The hyssop teaches us that cleansing requires humility. God doesn’t cleanse the proud. He cleanses the contrite.
The leper had to admit he was unclean before he could be cleansed. The same is true of us. We must come low before we can rise up.
When we stand tall in self-righteousness, we block the flow of grace. But when we bow low in repentance, grace runs freely.
The cedar reminds us that salvation comes from above—majesty descending.
The hyssop reminds us that salvation is received from below—humility accepting.
In the cleansing ritual, both are bound together. In Jesus, divine majesty meets perfect humility.
Philippians 2:6–8 captures this beautifully:
“Though He was in the form of God, He did not consider equality with God something to be grasped, but made Himself nothing… He humbled Himself by becoming obedient to death—even death on a cross.”
The cedar and the hyssop together picture Christ’s two natures: divine strength and human humility.
3. The Scarlet Thread – The Blood That Cleanses
Now we come to the scarlet thread, sometimes called scarlet yarn or crimson cord. It represents the blood—the lifeline of redemption that runs through all of Scripture.
Scarlet appears repeatedly throughout the Bible’s story of redemption:
Rahab’s scarlet cord in Joshua 2, marking her house for salvation.
The scarlet covering of the Tabernacle, symbolizing the covering of sin.
The scarlet robe placed on Jesus by the soldiers as they mocked Him, unaware that they were clothing the true King of glory.
Scarlet is the color of blood—the cost of cleansing. Without it, the cedar’s strength and the hyssop’s humility would be meaningless. Without the shedding of blood, there is no remission of sin (Hebrews 9:22).
When the priest dipped the cedar, hyssop, and scarlet into the blood of the slain bird, it was a visual prophecy:
“One day, the incorruptible and the humble will be united in blood—the blood of the Lamb of God.”
That blood would not merely cover sin as in the old covenant—it would remove it.
There truly is a “scarlet thread” that runs from Genesis to Revelation.
In Genesis, a lamb dies to clothe Adam and Eve.
In Exodus, blood marks the doorposts.
In Leviticus, blood cleanses the leper.
In the Gospels, blood flows from the Savior’s side.
In Revelation, the redeemed sing, “Worthy is the Lamb who was slain.”
Everywhere you look, that scarlet thread ties the story together.
The scarlet reminds us that our cleansing is costly. It wasn’t achieved with good works or moral effort. It came through the precious blood of Christ.
When we speak of being “washed in the blood,” it’s not poetic—it’s powerful. We are declaring that the blood of the incorruptible and humble Savior has been applied to our lives, making us clean inside and out.
After the cedar, hyssop, and scarlet were dipped in the blood of the slain bird, the living bird was set free into the open field (Leviticus 14:7).
This is the picture of resurrection life.
One bird dies—the other goes free. One descends into death—the other ascends into the heavens. The two together form a prophetic picture of Christ’s death and resurrection.
The leper could watch that bird fly away and know:
“That’s my freedom. That’s my new life.”
In Christ, the blood of the slain Savior and the life of the risen Savior come together. We are not only cleansed—we are released.
Romans 8:2 says, “For the law of the Spirit of life in Christ Jesus has set me free from the law of sin and death.”
Forgiveness isn’t just about the removal of guilt—it’s about the restoration of life. Now here is something interesting…
We read in Leviticus 14:7, that the priest sprinkled the leper seven times (Leviticus 14:7). In Scripture, seven is the number of completeness.
God doesn’t do partial cleansing. He doesn’t leave a trace of sin’s stain. When He washes you, He washes you completely.
Isaiah 1:18 says, “Though your sins are like scarlet, they shall be white as snow.” The ritual wasn’t just ceremony—it was prophecy. It declared, “One day, there will be a perfect cleansing, complete and eternal.”
Let’s tie these threads together.
The Cedar represents the strength and incorruptibility of the Savior.
The Hyssop represents the humility and accessibility of His cleansing.
The Scarlet Thread represents the blood that makes us clean.
All three are bound together in the hands of the priest—just as in Christ, divine strength, perfect humility, and saving blood are united.
And that living bird flying away symbolizes our new life in Him—freed, cleansed, restored, and sent forth.
When you read Leviticus 14 with the eyes of faith, you realize: the Gospel was hidden there all along.
Let’s come full circle back to the story of General Hornburg and that car. To me, the car looked fine. It was polished, new, and sharp. But to the General, it stank. His sense of authority and expectation revealed something mine didn’t perceive.
And in that moment, I learned something about urgency and excellence—if the boss says it stinks, it stinks.
Spiritually, the same is true with God. What we may call “good enough,” God may call “unclean.” Our best efforts, without His cleansing, still carry the odor of self-righteousness.
But the good news of Leviticus 14—and the good news of the Gospel—is that God has provided the perfect cleansing.
You don’t have to keep polishing what still smells wrong. You can exchange it entirely for what’s new.
That’s what Jesus does. He doesn’t just mask the odor; He replaces the whole vehicle of your life with something fresh, clean, and new. 2 Corinthians 5:17 says, “If anyone is in Christ, he is a new creation. The old has gone; the new has come.”
When the leper was pronounced clean, he didn’t go back to the old rags of isolation. He was restored—new clothes, new standing, new life.
That’s what Jesus offers every believer.
The General’s comment—“Get me a car that doesn’t stink”—wasn’t meant to insult. It was an honest reflection of what he expected for his position.
God says something similar to His people:
“Get me a heart that doesn’t stink.”
Not because He wants to embarrass us, but because He wants to dwell with us. He knows the stench of sin keeps us from His presence, and so He provided the cedar, the hyssop, and the scarlet thread—the strength, humility, and blood of His Son—to make us clean.
The question is: will we settle for looking clean, or will we let Him make us new?
When you come to Christ, you don’t just get a little better—you get made brand new. The cedar of His strength holds you. The hyssop of His humility reaches you. And the scarlet of His blood cleanses you completely.
And when He sets you free, like that bird flying into the open sky, you can know this: The past is forgiven, the stain is gone, and the stench is replaced by the sweet aroma of grace.
Leviticus 14 may seem like an obscure, ancient ritual—but hidden within it is the Gospel itself.
It tells us that cleansing is not something we achieve; it’s something we receive. It’s not about our effort to clean the old—it’s about God’s power to make us new.
Just like I scrambled to find a new car that didn’t stink, God has already provided a “new car” for your soul—the new life in Christ.
So today, don’t settle for the scent of the old. Let the cedar’s strength, the hyssop’s humility, and the scarlet thread’s cleansing bring you into the freshness of a forgiven life.
Because when heaven’s Commander says, “Get me a heart that doesn’t stink,” He’s not scolding you—He’s inviting you into something better.
He’s inviting you to be made clean.
Let’s pray
