In Fresh Wind, Fresh Fire, Jim Cymbala, pastor of the Brooklyn Tabernacle in New York City, shares about an encounter he had one Easter evening with a homeless man named David. His first impression was that the man only wanted money. He would soon be surprised. Cymbala recalls: When he came close, I saw that his two front teeth were missing. But more striking was his odor—the mixture of alcohol, sweat, urine, and garbage took my breath away. I have been around many street people, but this was the strongest stench I have ever encountered. I instinctively had to turn my head sideways to inhale, then looked back in his direction while breathing out. I asked his name. "David," he said softly. "How long have you been homeless, David?" "Six years." "Where did you sleep last night?" "In an abandoned truck." I heard enough and wanted to get this over quickly. I reached for my money clip in my back pocket. At that moment David put his finger in front of my face and said, "No, you don't understand—I don't want your money. I'm going to die out there. I just want that Jesus the red-haired girl talked about." I hesitated, then closed my eyes. God, forgive me, I begged. I felt soiled and cheap. Me, a minister of the gospel. . . . I had wanted simply to get rid of him, when he was crying out for the help of Christ I had just preached about. I swallowed hard and God's love flooded my soul. . . . And that smell . . . I don't know how to explain it. It had almost made me sick, but now it became the most beautiful fragrance to me. . . . The Lord seemed to say to me in that instant, Jim, if you and your wife have any value to me, if you have any purpose in my work—it has to do with this odor. This is the smell of the world I died for.