While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table. Matthew 26:6-7 (NIV)
I am invited to ponder what it is I guard in my alabaster jar. What am I keeping safe, hidden? What is it I need to pour out in love and gratitude? I look out into the woods that fringe our property; there it is a cross formed from fragile looking branches, rising above the trees. I first noticed the cross several years ago on a morning I was desperate to know God was still with me. Staring out from the porch swing, it caught my eye. A tangible reassurance of the constant presence of the One who unfailingly loves and watches over me.
I marvel now at that cross. Over the years many of the surrounding trees have been brutalized by ice, wind and snow. Huge branches, sometimes whole trees have fallen around it, but this delicate looking cross still rises up, swaying gently in the morning breeze.
The woods are still stark looking this early spring morning, clad in the faintest pale green glow of buds beginning to emerge. It seems appropriate that the cross still looks so forlorn against a pale blue sky. It is Holy Week and we know how the story goes.
Soon our beloved Jesus will hang from the cross, the atoning sacrifice for our sin. The sacrificial lamb whose life was given so that I might abide forever with the One who created humanity with such tender love.
The One whose heart was pierced with sorrow at our disobedience and abandonment. The One who would stop at nothing to bring us back. Whose heart was pierced again as his Son gave His precious life to accomplish what we could not.
It won’t be long until the cross is once again clad in a young verdant green leaves. Joyful, resilient.
I sense it is important today to not look too far ahead. To rest in this liminal space between Jesus’ triumphant entry in to Jerusalem and the brutal injustice of His execution.
It is a moment to pause and consider my place in the story. Am I like the fig tree, created with a purpose but failing to bear fruit? Or can I be like the woman who in faith and love anointed Jesus with precious ointment?
What treasure does this lovely vessel hold? My time, talent, compassion? I am I willing to break open the precious container and reveal what is hidden inside?
Can I without fear, without worry about the reactions of others, pour out for Jesus all the treasure I hold dear? I look again to the cross rising above a tangle of branches and briars. Every day I live in the victory of that cross, confident in my salvation.
Suddenly I know what I must do. I will lift the Alabaster jar high, then let it go. Smash it open, allowing the contents to flow freely.
Dearest Jesus, Give me courage today to fearlessly release all that I have into you hands. Amen.
While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table. Matthew 26:6-7 (NIV)