Gucci Perfume + Homelessness

Yesterday I found myself inside a perfume store fighting off the guilt that had kept me out of there for months.

It seems silly, but I’ve wanted for years to find a perfume I love. One that smells like “me”. 

“Justin Bieber Somebody to Love” was the last perfume I had purchased… my sophomore year of high school.  I used the last drops a few months ago. 

I knew it was time to choose something not as sweet. Something that smelled like what I knew I was stepping into as a woman. But I put it off, knowing it would cost time to choose, cost money to choose - and knowing I would likely and unconsciously choose something I shouldn’t afford.

I put it off. “Don’t spend money on something so trivial. You don’t deserve it” But yesterday as I passed the store, a calming in my spirit and a peace about this small matter settled over me.

A whisper, permission in a sense.

“I know this is important to your feminine heart. I’ll provide"

I told the porcelain-skinned, put together woman that offered to help me that I had no idea what I liked, what I wanted. 

I felt like a 11 year old trying on bras for the first time. I felt small and immature and frizzy haired in front of this elegant woman.

And she was kind.. spraying sample after sample onto tiny slips of paper.

She sprayed a flowery bottle onto my arm and as soon as I smelled it, I realised it was mine. 

Spicy, and somehow sweet. Strong.

I felt I should have cringed when the price appeared on the screen at the counter, but I didn’t. 

As silly as it sounds, it felt like an investment into myself, a gift from the Divine to his daughter. 

I sauntered out, and immediately the breath caught in my throat. 

I walked out, past one of the most beautiful women I’ve ever seen. 

Sitting. 

A paper cup placed carefully in front of her, far enough to catch the attention of by-passers.

Misty eyed. Hopeful. 

Immediately, guilt flooded in. A frantic thought flicked through my mind.

“I should give her this perfume.”

Almost mockery- to give this wandering woman a bottle of Gucci perfume. 

I turned immediately to pretentiousness. 

“I deserved this gift. I cannot walk up to her with a shopping bag in my hand to offer her change"

I forced my feet to keep moving, trying but unable to shove her from my mind.

\\

I awoke this morning to words that struck my spirit. 

“I want nothing to do with your religious projects. Your pretentious slogans and goals. 

I’m sick of your fundraising schemes, your public relations and image making. 

I’ve had all I can take of your noisy ego-music. 

When was the last time you sang to me?”

… a few days ago. But not my own song.

“Do you know what I want?

I want justice - oceans of it.

I want fairness - rivers of it.

That’s what I want. That’s all I want.

Wake up and look around. Get off your pedestal.” *

These words were from my King. They must be so similar to the words in the hearts of so many hurting people overlooked by the Church.

Nausea repulsed my spirit and I cried to the Lord how sorry I was. 

Not for the purchase of perfume but for the pretentious passing of a woman He loves. 

And the decision in my mind that I had to choose between the two. 

\

“Have you forgotten who I am? I redeem.”

“I am the King that unapologetically welcomed expensive perfume cascading over my head

though those in the room criticised my daughter for what she spent on me.

Poured out, wasted.

on me. 

I praised my precious daughter for the luxurious, seemingly frivolous, reckless abandon. 

Lavish devotion. 

And with the smell of luxury still permeating the air surrounding me, I went. 

To the cross, to be tortured, misused, abused, bound, mauled. 

Mixed with water and the spit of those who had no idea who I was.

This blood flowed.

\

So that justice could - like oceans. 

So that fairness could - like rivers.

So that every homeless could find a Home. 

So that every marginalised could be understood.

So that every overlooked could be distinguished in a crowd.

So that every sick and disabled and terrorised and raped and falsely accused could be

healed, set free, redeemed, chosen, proved innocent.

But my people choose to choose. 

They keep trying to choose privilege or pain.

to be lifted up or brought low.

to receive abundance or give it all for the Kingdom.

I’m not a God of “or” in this way.

I’m not a scale to be constantly used to weigh what you deserve.

I’m a person. I’m your Helper. Just ask me. 

Don’t limit yourself to what you deserve- I never did. 

A beautiful paradox.

To spray your Gucci perfume, allow it to fill your nostrils guiltlessly

Allow the scent to be an offering to me, 

A reminder of my worth.

Allow the aroma to be an admonition to move your Spirit to cry out for the hurting 

and move your mind to strategise alongside me for change

and move your eyes to be drawn to these beautiful people

and move your arms to cling to them in love

and move your ears to listen to their story

and move your preconceived notions to become patient, raw, real relationships.

So that justice will flow like oceans. 

And fairness like rivers. 

** Amos 5:21-24 MSG **