the fragrance of the Gospel

The feast was going well, just as Simon had planned it. Jesus of Nazareth, the famed Healer and Teacher, was staying in the town of Bethany, a village close to Jerusalem. Simon was hosting this dinner party in Jesus’ honor, and many, many people attended. The crowds that filled his house were a testimony to the importance of Jesus. And Simon loved being in the midst of it all, sharing the head of the table with the two most famous people in the country: the resurrected Lazarus, and the Jesus who raised him from the dead. 

The food was good, the company was high-profile, the conversation was pleasant. The party was a great success! Until. 

Until

SHE 

came in. No one invited her to the table, this improper woman. She snuck in, clutching a vase to her chest and tip-toeing over to the head of the table where Jesus was reclining and eating, speaking to Simon himself. But if this intruder thought that she could go unnoticed, it didn’t last for long. The jar she held was made of alabaster—an expensive material. And inside of that alabaster jar was a very expensive perfume, an ointment made of pure nard, fragrant and rich.

So when this woman broke the jar, it was not the sound that arrested the attention of the room. It was not the sound of the breaking jar, but the fragrance of spilled perfume. Without a word she poured the perfume over the hair of Jesus, anointing His head with the priciest fragrance that could be purchased. As the disciple John would later write in his Gospel retelling, “the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” The trespassing woman was weeping at Jesus’ feet, anointing His feet with the perfume, with her tears, and wiping those feet with her hair. This was a scandalous thing to do. And in public! and to the prophet Jesus! and at Simon’s dinner party! 

Ugh. Simon had long been called Simon the Leper until Jesus had healed him, and in gratitude Simon threw this party. But Jesus was ruining it! Why was he letting this woman cross the boundaries of decency?! Was Jesus a prophet after all? Didn’t He know what kind of a woman was touching Him like this? It was gross. It was offensive. As Simon murmured in his heart, others began murmuring with their lips.

                                                                           * * * * 

The jar was broken, the perfume poured out, the house full of its fragrance, the room was silent— silent except for the sound of the woman weeping softly at Jesus’ feet. Then the sound of disgust could be heard. It was Judas Iscariot, shocked at this inappropriate display of affection. “What a waste!” He was talking with the other eleven disciples. “That perfume was worth a year’s wages and she ruined it. Why wasn’t it sold? Why wasn’t the money given to the poor? A wasted extravagance.”

The other disciples were nodding in agreement. Yes, that was a lot of money she just poured out. What a waste. Some others in the room felt the rising indignation. “Why this waste of perfume?” they asked. So they rebuked her harshly, chastising her for what she had done. Had she no decency?!

                                                                          * * * * 

No one expected to hear what Jesus said next. 

“Leave her alone.”

What? She should be leaving YOU alone. She should be leaving US alone. She should be leaving!

"Leave her alone. Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor? The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have Me. She did what she could. She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for My burial. I tell you the truth: wherever the Gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will be spoken of in memory of her.”

People are stunned into silence. His words linger in the air with the fragrance of pure nard. This gift of hers, he says, is Gospel. It is the preparation for My burial. 

His feet are soon to be pierced with Roman nails. His head soon to be crowned with mocking thorns. His death was coming and she honored Him with the most extravagant gift she could give. Her gift, His death—

this was the Gospel

. Until they could see that, they didn’t understand the Kingdom of God. 

by Aaron Watt

Restaurant Wallpaper, Sidewalk Friend

 To the couple hunched over minestrone and penne, leaning close in the corner booth, the crowd of the restaurant is wallpaper. background. a setting and a picture frame for the enjoyment of the table and the togetherness.

 But to the man who, alone, eats the caesar salad and sandwich in the open air of the restaurant patio, the crowd of the sidewalk is a lost and found. a train station platform. a card catalog where he searches the passing faces for some glint of recognition that they both are people, people together. He looks at the hurried men and fussy women and distracted children with a hungry wish: to be acknowledged, to be made vulnerable, to be close, to share a meal together.

 No, no one is sitting here. Please, sit down. You have to try the lemonade here; it's a specialty. And let me buy you a glass. Now tell me, what's your name?

Blessed in Your Emptiness

Maybe you've had a hard week. 

Your spirit feels worn out and overspent. 

(Blessed are the poor in spirit.)

Perhaps behind that Happy Sabbath smile is a broken heart. 

(Blessed are those who mourn.)

Maybe this week you've been humbled by a mistake at work, 

(Blessed are the meek.)

or you find yourself spiritually empty. 

(Blessed are those who hunger and thirst for righteousness.)

Maybe you've been wronged by someone this week,

 (Blessed are the merciful.)

or tempted above what you thought you could bear. 

(Blessed are the pure in heart.)

Perhaps your home life is filled with conflict, 

(Blessed are the peacemakers.)

and maybe even your religious faith is under attack. 

(Blessed are those who are persecuted.)

*

Maybe you've been blessed this week: blessed in your emptiness to receive of God's fullness, blessed in your pain to receive God's comfort, blessed in your need to receive God's provision, blessed in your hurt to receive God's healing. 

Whatever the "blessings" you've received, the words of David are fitting:

"I love you, O Lord, my strength."

(Psalm 18:1) He becomes our strength when we are weak, so 

thank You, God, for my weaknesses. 

thank You for not telling me yet how I'm going to pay my rent this month.

thank You for the pain of living apart from my husband. 

thank You for my engine leaking oil.

thank You for the uncertainty in my future. 

thank You for the evenings of loneliness.

thank You for giving me these opportunities to need you. 

I love you, O Lord, my strength. 

*(Jesus spoke these blessings in Matthew 5:3-12.)

My Thirtieth, Intentional Year

This week I turned 29.

...  (I'll pause while you sing me Happy Birthday.)  ...

The 366 days that I lived as a 28-year-old were kinda rough. Not

horrible

, not close to

tragic

, just kind of

sad. and angsty. 

It involved a lot of sitting and wishing, not very much doing.

If I honestly evaluate the year that passed, it was kind of a waste. Some things were learned, experienced, enjoyed, accomplished-- but so much more

could have been

.

But

birthdays come around every year to remind us that we're getting older all the time, and all the time we have time to start anew.

I have completed 29 years, and now I begin my thirtieth: 365 days of the rest of my life. So I am considering the question: What do I want this year---this life!---to be?

What would my life look like if I dedicated this next year to a focus on physical fitness?

What if rocking an Ironman triathlon was my goal? What if calories and carbs and lean body mass were the foci of each day? My schedule, my diet, my routine, my finances---all would be servants of my goal of ultimate physical fitness.

What would my life look like if I dedicated this next year solely to academic accomplishment?

What if getting published in a prestigious journal was my goal? What if acing all my classes and amazing my professors and colleagues was my primary focus? Books, books, books. All library all the time. My sleep schedule, my social life, my Amazon purchases---all subservient to this goal of impressive academic achievement.

What would my life look like if I dedicated this next year to my savings account?

What if putting a down payment on a big house was my big goal? Interest rates, coupons, and penny pinching would be my daily obsessions. Everything in my life---from the thread count of my sheets to the number of times I used the same paper towel---would be affected by my single-minded goal to save up as much money as possible.

BUT. 

But

what would my life look like if I resolutely dedicated this next year to Christ?

What if being formed in His likeness was my driving aspiration? What if bringing Him pleasure and dwelling in His company were my measurements of success? My schedule and activities, my diet and my finances, my words and my relationships---all intentioned for His glory. I would seek for ways to be useful to Him. I would saturate myself with His word. I would earnestly learn from Him in the school of prayer.

And I would know that this year---this life!---was not a waste.

And

I will know

that this year---this life!---was not a waste, but awake! My thirtieth, intentional year.

"Teach us to number our days, 

that we may gain a heart of wisdom."

[psalm90.12]