I imagine her eyes stayed on her Lord as his words spilled out in teaching. Her heart stirred to life as she sat quiet near his feet. Submissive. Gleaning. She heard with open ears of the death soon to come. His death. And the prompting overwhelmed her.
She slipped away, purposeful, heart-beating fast with the thought. Once home she pulled her alabaster jar out of its waiting, then glanced upward in humble thanksgiving. Breathing deep. She placed it around her neck and walked those dirt roads quick to find him. To anoint him. *
It seems she may have grasped it more firmly than the others. Jesus had told them of his coming crucifixion. But as she anointed him with her costly oil, his disciples grumbled at her choice of seeming extravagance. He responded to their indignation, "She did it for my burial." (Matthew 26: 6-13)
She laid it all down. She took all of her earthly treasure, all of her future desires, all of herself, and poured it on her Lord. And it pleased him. He then esteemed her.
I want that to be me. To sit low at his feet hanging on his word. To have ears to hear his radical promptings. To boldly obey even if others are grumbling. Father, purge my heart of that which hinders.
Bringing it home...
In the midst of this holy week, join me in taking time to get real with him. Linger before him. Tell him the things he already knows--those things that cause the anxious in your soul. Then meditate on him, his promises, his faithfulness, allowing his peace to calm those wild places. Tamed with the truth of his word.
Then tell me, how does this woman inspire you?
*The first two paragraphs are written with my own creative license. These happenings are not in God's word, only in my imagination.
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