Christian Living

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My dad used to smoke a pipe, and while the rich aroma of pipe tobacco doesn’t offend me, I really hated it when Dad puffed away in the car.

This was especially true when I was in junior high, and Dad’s smoke wrecked havoc with my Love’s Baby Soft perfume. Besides, I couldn’t walk into the critical, cliquish corridors of junior high smelling like smoke, now could I? What if I was branded as one of those girls who hid in the bathroom stalls to sneak drags between classes?

Sympathetic to my concerns, Dad stopped smoking while driving me to school.

When I got to high school, there was—believe it or not—a smoking section for students. Obviously, I’ve been out of high school for awhile. This was the late 1970’s, and the designated area was outside of the auditorium, with “Keep on Trucking’” painted on the building in psychedelic colors like hot pink and shocking lime. The kids who frequented this area favored tattered bell bottoms, long hair, Alice Cooper and tye-dye.

It wasn’t, however, those far-out fashions that identified them as smokers. It was the smell that lingered…

They smelled like smoke.

Interestingly, there are people who smell like smoke even though they’ve never lit up a cigarette, cigar, pipe or anything else that can be inhaled.

I’m speaking of people who have been through fiery trials. Even though they made it through the flames, they didn’t come out unscathed. Burned and scorched, they might have became angry or bitter. Maybe they lost faith in God and their fellow man. Perhaps their self-esteem took a hit or they constructed walls of indifference, cynicism or aloofness.

These feelings and attitudes permeate their hearts and minds—and though they may have never flicked a Bic, they reek of smoke. Like Pig Pen from Charlie Brown, the stench follows them everywhere, impacting all facets of their lives.

When I worked as a newspaper reporter, I once covered a story about local firefighters igniting a “controlled burn” to train rookies, using an old house someone had donated to the county for this purpose. I couldn’t believe how quickly flames engulfed the little white house, and the way smoke poured from the windows and rolled off the roof. Thick and pitch black, it was blinding and suffocating, coating everything in the vicinity with its strong, distinctive smell.

Even after the fire was extinguished, smoke continued to rise and travel from the burn site, going whichever way the wind took it and polluting the air of everyone and everything in its path.

That’s similar to what happens when we become burdened with the lingering affects of a fiery trial. We smell like smoke from a fire long extinguished. The smoke blurs our perceptions and chokes our abilities, all the while impacting others.

Granted, some trials leave us forever changed, and there are times when change is actually a good thing. Other times, people survived the fire, but smell bad for years to come. I once worked with a woman who had a rocky relationship in her past, leaving her so brutally bitter towards men that even Sir Lancelot and his white steed would have struck out with this gal. For all her tough talk about “not needing a man” and “being independent and self-sufficient”, she was one of the loneliest, most miserable people I’ve ever been around…because she smelled like smoke.


Most have heard the story about Daniel’s friends—Shadrach, Meshach and Abednego—being tossed into a blazing furnace because they wouldn’t serve the gods of Nebuchadnezzar. Despite being marked for firewood, the young men emerged from this turbo oven unharmed—“the fire had not harmed their bodies, nor was a hair of their heads singed; their robes were not scorched, and there was no smell of fire on them.” (Daniel 3:27 NIV)

God protected them through the trial, and He will do that for us today—“When you walk through the fire, you will not be burned…For I am the Lord your God.” (Isaiah 43: 2-3 NIV)

We can’t always avoid trial, but we can avoid smelling like smoke if we keep our eyes on God. So—what’s got us smoking? Is it unforgiveness, anger or feeling like we’re unworthy of love and respect?

“Drop low and go” is the advice for escaping a fire. Because smoke rises, one should try crawling to safety instead of stumbling through a haze. As for lingering smoke from fiery trials, we should drop to our knees and seek God’s help in clearing the air and carrying on.

Only then are we truly free to keep on truckin’.

©Donna G. Morton, July 2007

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