What's Next? Jesus Soap on a Rope?

I’m pretty sure I’ve posted before about the inability to escape the church newsletter of my childhood congregation. Each month, like clockwork, a little Xeroxed newsletter arrives in the mailbox, offering up Jesus-y news on people I have never heard of. Occasionally, there will be someone I recognize in the Prayer Requests section. It never says what you’re praying for, but I guess that’s okay.

Personally, I like to be very specific in my prayers. If I’m praying for a new Maserati, I pray for specific accessories, colors and trim. I don’t want to risk having God select mine as the “prayer of the day” and deign to fulfill it, only to get some raggedy assed used car in pimp purple and cloth seats.

But I digress. The church newsletter . . .

This month, I was greeted by Love Notes from the Pastor. I find that vaguely creepy and sooooo Catholic Priest derivative. But the first line of her missive (yes, the pastor is female) had me scratching my head in between the church giggles: “I smelled the aroma of Christ!” she wrote. Ummm . . . didn’t realize Jesus had come out with a fragrance. And what exactly did it smell like? Was it all flower-dy? Or was it more sandalwood with hints of murrh?

But seriously, you “smelled the aroma of Christ?”

She was referring to a volunteer outing where school supplies were provided to needy children. And she uses the same metaphor THREE times.

“You truly put on the aroma of Christ as you greeted each child . . .” Hunh? So you can actually spray this shit on? Or is it a roll-on?

Growing up in East Texas, we always hated when the wind would blow a certain direction, because we could smell the pulp from the paper mill. It essentially smelled like the forest farted. Could THAT be what she was smelling?

Regardless, she obviously thinks it’s a good thing. She closes her letter with “Keep on smelling like Jesus.” If only I knew what that meant.