For about a year, my family’s morning devotion included reading a book of saints from church history. We started noticing a phrase we had never come across before: “the odor of sanctity.” The book claimed that dozens of tombs, caskets, and burial grounds of holy men and women not only were preserved from bad odors, but more so, smelled like roses. You can imagine why Protestants like my wife and I found the phrase, well, sort of spooky.
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