This is for all those who remember Saturday mornings as a kid. For all you guys who loved the smell of your new US Keds-United States Keds that is. Or their competition, PF Flyers. White high tops were my preference. Remember the smell of the denim and rubber, and how you would save the box just to smell it sometimes? It helped them stay new, at least in your mind. And then you would get on your Schwinn or Rollfast and ride-we never cruised, the neighborhood, riding past the fresh cut yards, even being able to tell the difference between the grass cut by the old push mowers and the new power mowers-all built, like your bikes, in the US of A. And sometimes , your dad would send you for gas for the mower, twenty five cents worth, that was pumped from American wells, and the tetra ethyl smell that came from it seemed heavenly. Invented by an American engineer at General Motors, the largest corporation in the world. American. And after that, the dads in the neighborhood would wash their cars, and the new car smell from the Morrokide-particularly strong on new Chevies and Pontiacs, would cause you to pause and inhale deeply. Somehow Fords and Chryslers with their nylon interiors never had quite the same aroma. Even on a station wagon. There again-made in the USA.
Once a month you went for a haircut-not a styling. And the aroma of the Bay Rum, or the talc was purely American. And no girls. This was for boys, 'er men only. And the aroma would only last until mixed with the sweat of running and playing with friends.
Playing catch with your friends, your glove, American cowhide, would produce its own pleasant aroma. Remember how you held it in front of your face, just to catch a whiff? I still have my Mickey Mantle Fastback model, the first one. Paid $7.99 plus got a book of How to Play Baseball with it, by the Mick. A big deal in 1967. And when mixed with the smell of fresh grass on your jeans-denim made in the US, you played America's past time with your friends. And your mom would have hamburgers for lunch, fried in a skillet-for it took too much time to light the charcoal briquettes-they were for steaks and barbeques in the evenings anyway, again, made in Michigan. On grills made in the states. You were an American, watching TV shows on your American made TV, eating domestic beef, and wearing cotton and denim clothes-all made in the US of A. We wore sneakers-never did the call them tennis shoes, and we were proud to be Americans. We were to find out though, as our 20/20 hindsight was to show us, we were the last great generation who consumed American items. We were producers, but about to become importers. Where price was more important than quality, and where it was produced didn't matter-no matter how many families were effected by the loss of their father's income. No on was offered a job in a Chinese factory, an Indian sweatshop, or a Japanese assembly line. But with no warning, we were the last generation of our kind-true Americans consuming American made products, powered by American gas, and enjoying all the great aromas that came with them.
But something stinks out there. It just doesn't smell right, and it certainly isn't pleasing. An odor, instead of an aroma. A generation that gave up all the pleasant aromas that prosperity bring, and gave them up willingly. Without a battle. Until it was too late.
Today a final generation waits for the rapture, when Jesus comes to rescue His church from the earth. And the warning signs are there, and even the movies cry out about the end of the world, but don't get it right. Something stinks,and it's us. We have given up everything we own, including our values, for valuables. We are being warned, and even given a way out. But we won't heed the message. While we wear designer tennis shoes, listen to i-pods, and complain about high taxes, we do not turn to God. The same God who shed His grace on America, but whose citizens have turned away from Him, and in many times against Him. It used to be all about Him, now it is all about us. And we cannot save ourselves from the stench we have created. We need the pleasant aroma that only Jesus Christ can bring into a life. Precious memories await us if we seek Jesus. If we turn from our wicked ways, God promises to heal our land. Maybe not take us back to a time of Schwinns and Keds, but a time of fellowship and devotion to God. If life stinks, it doesn't have too. Seek Jesus, and follow Him. Lay down on fresh grass, and take in the aroma. Open a box of Keds, and smell the canvas. Go to an old car show and stand next to a Chevy from the sixties, and inhale. But first, take a deep breath of Jesus. And hold it inside. Let it out and repeat. And experience aromas from life you never knew existed. Be part of a generation who may be the last one on earth-and can't wait to get to heaven. But you can also enjoy it now. Like the song says, the greatest treasure is for those who choose Him now.
love with compassion,
Mike
matthew25biker.blogspot.com