JOHN CHAPTER 12
Read:
John 12:1-8
The sounds of
laughter and conversation filled the house. The guest of honor sat quietly at
the table enjoying the commotion but slightly embarrassed to be the cause of so
much fuss. He was a living, breathing miracle. The crowd gawked at him like
those gathered around a circus freak. The attention was uncomfortable, but that
discomfort was overcome by the gratitude he felt for another man sitting just
across the table. He was the real attraction. He was the true guest of honor.
It was, after all, this other man that had made it all possible. Had it not
been for Him, this day of celebration would have been another day of mourning.
The women were
all busy preparing and serving the guests. This banquet was the biggest the
village had ever known. How do you thank someone for saving the life of your
brother? Well, not really saving his life … it was something far more
incredible than that. This "Miracle Maker" had been here many times
before. The lady of the house knew all of His favorites. She had been gathering
ingredients and preparing food for days. The party was her way of saying,
"Thank you." She recruited every woman she knew to help. Word had
quickly spread and curiosity seekers were coming by the dozens. The house was
overflowing with people. Given the size of the crowd, she could have used
another pair of hands. Where was her sister?
Mary wasn't
much for the domestic scene. She preferred to be where the action was, and the
action always seemed to be with Him. She had sat at His feet many times
listening to His words. Wonderful words, words that could open minds and had
recently proven could open tombs as well. While others argued, she listened.
While others debated, she absorbed. While others sought to be heard, there was
only one voice she wanted to hear. He had once rescued her, and now He had
saved her brother. She loved Him.
Quietly,
unnoticed, she got up and left the room. If anyone saw her go, they probably
assumed she was going to take up her proper place with the other women. Martha
would surely appreciate the help. She passed by the women and went to her room.
She knew right where it was and exactly what she was going to do. She had been
saving this for years. A woman's dowry was her future. All her hopes and dreams
of a family, all the security of a husband who might one day provide and
protect, the dream of children. She had been saving this for just the right
time. What else do you give someone who has given everything to you?
She slipped
back into the room. She didn't think it was possible to fit any more people
into the room, but as she returned, she noticed the crowd had grown. She had to
press herself along the wall to make her way back to His feet. She had to get
back to His feet. The crowd was deafening, but she couldn't hear them. She
barely saw them once her eyes found Him. His eyes caught hers just as she knelt
at His feet. For a moment there was no one else in the room. As she opened the
vase, the strong aroma of the pure nard began to permeate the air. The noise
level decreased as the aroma pushed the sounds out of the space it would not
share. Eyes turned toward the source of the aroma. There was Mary, emptying the
final drops of the nard on Jesus' feet. She slowly took her hair down,
revealing the long black locks never before seen in public. The scene was
getting embarrassing. She slowly began to wash His feet with her hair. Not a
sound was heard. The fragrance of her offering, the audacity of her actions
made everyone uncomfortable. This was inappropriate.
Judas waited as
long as he could. He waited for Jesus to stop her, to put an end to this spectacle.
Jesus didn't seem to mind. Could He be enjoying this? Surely one of the other
disciples, Peter or John, would intervene, but they seemed frozen, unsure of
what to do. It was Lazarus'
responsibility to oversee the actions of his unmarried sister. As Judas looked at Lazarus, he noticed that
he was crying. Lazarus was unable or unwilling to call his sister out for her
scandalous actions.
"He's
probably still not well," Judas thought. It seemed that if something were
to be done, it would be up to him. What to say? There was so much wrong with
this situation that one had to choose one's words carefully. As the financial
officer of the group, it seemed wise to approach this situation by calling out
the obvious waste of resources.
“Why wasn’t
this perfume sold and the money given to the poor?” Judas’ words cut through
the silence. “It must be worth a year’s wages.” It was worth so much more. It represented a lifetime of hopes and
dreams. It was Mary’s future.
Jesus’ response
was soft. He did not lift his eyes off of Mary. “Leave her alone. It was
intended she should save this perfume for the day of my burial.” Then He turned
and looked directly at Judas. “You will always have the poor; you won’t always
have me.” His words seemed to hang in
the air along with the fragrance of the perfume.
Two fates were
sealed that day. Mary would embrace her emptiness and tie her hopes and future
to Jesus. Judas would cling to his future and follow it to the end of despair.
Dear Jesus,
As Mary broke her alabaster jar, may
I also be broken before You. As the precious oil was poured out
on your feet, may all that I am be poured out for Your glory. I am overwhelmed by your love and
mercy. May my worship be a pungent aroma crowding out the noise of distraction and drawing every eye to You.
Amen
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