Barnyard Funk

Brett took me to a wine tasting class a few years ago for date night.  We learned about Old World wines and New World wines and how to swirl and sniff and sip. Admittedly unschooled in the ways of wine, the oddest thing I learned was all the flavors you are supposed to be able to pick up in a glass of wine. You might get a hint of pepper. Or flowers. Or berries.

Or barnyard funk.

Come again? What, pray tell, is barnyard funk? Well, barnyard funk, as it turns out, has essence of exactly what you might expect to find in a barnyard. Oh.

I would never make it as a sommelier.

Not long ago, my Bible reading brought me here:
You shall not take vengeance, nor bear any grudge against the sons of your own people, but you shall love your neighbor as yourself; I am the Lord. 

I was not surprised by the content. This is emphatically biblical. I was surprised at the context. This is Leviticus 19:18. Leviticus. A book about laws and regulations and mildew and hair and parapets and birds. (Please, please don't get me wrong. I love Leviticus, and if you don't roll your eyes or yawn your way through it, you will discover it is truly magnificent. Give it some respect.)

If I were to sum up Leviticus in one sentence it would be this:
An inherently unclean and unholy people--which we forget to our peril--are drawn into covenantal relationship with an inherently clean and holy God--which we also forget to our peril.

Bearing grudges is our uncleanness and unholiness showing.
To put a New Testament spin on this, bearing grudges is withholding grace.
Loving our neighbor as ourselves is God's cleanness and holiness showing.
Loving your neighbor as yourself is bestowing grace.

Let's face it, fam. Sometimes we don't do reconciliation well. Sometimes we settle for truces. I agree never to discuss 'it' again if you agree never to discuss 'it' again. We extend a precise and peevish forgiveness and settle for an unstable peace. And suddenly our relationship looks like an exercise in geopolitics.

So basically we serve up barnyard funk. Yeah, technically it's wine. But it tastes like dirt and manure. No thanks, I'll just have a glass of vinegar. At least the vinegar has health benefits.

I was talking to a friend who is smarting from a relational hurt, and she mentioned needing to get past it. But I thought maybe she was settling for a truce when the aim is reconciliation. What she has now is a cease-fire. What she wants is fellowship.

I have taken a long journey in my growth in grace. I have withheld grace. I have been suspicious of grace. And I have extended grace. I have learned the power of grace, given. But I have also learned the power of the void where grace should be but is not.
It is septic. Putrefactive. Toxic.

Take forgiveness. You can extend all the technical forgiveness you want. But if there is not an accompanying grace, things in your presence will begin to die. Starting with yourself. Spreading to your marriage. Your family. Your friends. Your community. Because the people around you may not be sommeliers who can swirl and sip and identify barnyard funk. But they can sure smell the manure.

The good news is that while the absence of grace kills, the presence of grace makes things flourish! Starting with yourself. Spreading to your marriage. Your family. Your friends. Your community.

Technical, graceless forgiveness can, I suppose, get you to the Lord's Table. But don't for a moment think that barnyard funk is what we taste at the Lord's Table. We get the good stuff. Because He only serves the good stuff.

My friend texted me after our conversation. She said it was the push she needed to seek reconciliation. And she's moving forward. Stay tuned for fellowship and flourishing!

How about you?
Are you settling for barnyard funk?
Or are you ready for the good stuff?