The Big Stink
It started out innocently enough. One of those quiet summer evenings. A warm breeze wafting through open windows. The sound of irrigation sprinklers rhythmically playing their song.
Peace. Tranquility.
But in a moment. Our night was about to change. It began when our dog squeaked. Actually, it’s not really a dog. It’s a mouse masquerading in fluffy dog skin. A dog that likes to throw his mouse-weight around. A dog with an attitude.
When he peeped, we listened. We knew what he wanted, and I opened the front door. He happily bounced to the threshold, and then gazed out into the darkness, peering carefully through his Farrah Fawcett bangs.
And then he saw it. A cat. A black-and-white cat. A cat that had the audacity to be in his dog dish. And, at that critical moment Mighty Mouse was about to teach that cat a lesson.
It would have been nice if my brain hadn’t frozen as I watched our furry canine leap through the air. And it would have been nice if the dog had recognized that the animal eating his food wasn’t a cat. And it would have been nice if I’d thought to shut the door. But, I didn’t.
Well, with all the hysterical high-pitched yipping -- the dog’s and mine -- the skunk ran one way and the dog ran the other. Right back into the house.
In an instant, that smelly dog rolled his way across miles of carpet. First one room, then another. He rotated his little body all the way through the living room, down the hall and smack dab into our bed. A bed where my husband lay quietly reading.
At midnight, eight ounces of tomato juice doesn’t go far, especially, between two people and a dog. But the smell of skunk goes on forever. Or at least for nine or 10 doggie years.
Because of this incident, I can assure you that finding yourself tainted is a bad experience. This time it was a polecat. But I remember another experience that polluted me spiritually.
My husband and I decided to go to a popular movie. Sure, we knew the rating was for those 17 and over. But, we were way past that. Certainly, two mature adults could watch it. We’d have a fun evening with no regrets -- except for the big bucket of buttered popcorn that would later cling to our bellies and hips. But, by the time we left the theater, we’d been sprayed with more cuss words, sex, and violence in two hours, than you’d see or hear from a shipload of drunken sailors on shore leave.
Too late, we realized that we’d taken a quick look at a choice, and then fooled ourselves into believing it was a decent one. In reality, the film was immorality disguised as entertainment. For me, it felt like a terrible stench had invaded my psyche. I had willingly opened the door to my mind. Now, the pervasive decadent images and phrases were there to stay. Forever.
But, what I continue to find is that moral decay reeks in a high proportion of our media, and it’s not just the movies. It’s pervasive in our music, in our television, radio and magazines. It has even crept into advertising. Almost everywhere we turn, we’re hit with indecency -- often, when we least expect it.
I can’t help but be reminded of the little song I learned as a child. It warns, "Be careful little eyes what you see. Be careful little ears what you hear. For the Father up above is looking down in love. Be careful little eyes what you see."
These days, we aren’t being very careful. Our culture is permeated with entertainment that our eyes shouldn’t see or our ears shouldn’t hear. As a nation, our heart and soul are deeply tainted.
Most assuredly, our Father up above is looking down in love. But, it concerns me that from His perspective what passes for fun and amusement may just stink to high heavens.