Day 40

Exodus 29–30 | Romans 4

“…a pleasing aroma, an offering made to the Lord by fire.” (Exodus 29:25)

Forty days.

That’s how long I’ve been writing these devotionals—showing up each day, opening the Word, wrestling with it, pouring out these thoughts. Some days, the words have come easily. Other days, I’ve stared at the screen, feeling dry, feeling stretched, wondering if I really have 325 more days in me.

But I’m reminded today that faithfulness, no matter how small, is a pleasing aroma to God.

In Exodus 29 and 30, God gives Moses instructions for consecrating the priests—how they were to offer daily sacrifices, burn fragrant incense, and present offerings that would rise as a sweet aroma before the Lord. It wasn’t about the physical smoke or the specific spices. It was about devotion. About setting something apart for God, offering it in obedience and love.

And that gets me thinking—what does my life smell like to God?

I want my life to be a sweet aroma to Him. I want my worship, my obedience, my daily trust to be something that delights Him. But then I look at myself—my inconsistency, my failures, my moments of doubt—and I wonder: How could my offering ever be enough?

Then I turn to Romans 4.

“Abraham believed God, and it was counted to him as righteousness.” (Romans 4:3)

It wasn’t Abraham’s ability that pleased God. It wasn’t his perfect record. It was simply his faith. His trust.

And that’s what God still desires from me today.

Not perfection. Not performance. Just faith. Just my daily willingness to keep showing up, to keep offering myself, to keep trusting that He is enough—even on the days when I feel like I have nothing to give.

And yet, the God who required perfection in the altar is the same God who declares the unrighteous righteous—not by their offerings, but by faith.

Tonight, as I sit here writing, I hear the soft breathing of a brand-new puppy curled up at my feet. My wife, my daughter, and I drove eight hours round-trip today to bring her home—a trip that, just three months ago, we weren’t sure we’d be able to take.

Back in September, before my accident, we reserved a yellow lab from this litter as a Christmas gift for Sophia. And then November 2 happened. Suddenly, life felt like too much. I could barely take care of myself, let alone a puppy. We seriously considered canceling. The timing felt wrong. The weight of recovery felt too heavy.

But we didn’t cancel. And now, as I sit here, exhausted from an eight-hour round trip, listening to this tiny, fragile creature breathing softly at my feet—so full of life, so dependent, so eager to please—I realize how wrong I was. I thought she’d be too much. Instead, she’s a gift. A reminder that some things don’t have to be earned—they’re simply given.

And isn’t that how God sees me? I bring nothing but my need. No strength. No ability to contribute. Just my dependence. And yet, He delights in me—not because I have it all together, but simply because I am His.

My prayers are not always eloquent. My obedience not always perfect. My devotion often weak. But even these small, daily offerings are—when given in faith—a sweet aroma to God.

And that gives me the strength to show up again tomorrow—even when I feel spent.

Lord, take my life—my faith, my obedience, my trust—and let it be a pleasing aroma to You. Even when I lose my way, remind me that You delight in my faith, not my perfection. Let my life, imperfect as it is, be consecrated to You. Amen.