Tears streamed down, but not from sadness. Not really.
It’s just that she too had been broken, like this alabaster jar.
And now like this broken vessel she was pouring out all she held.
All she was.
His eyes affirmed her, then closed as he bowed His head before her.
Oil poured down over this man.
More than man—her Messiah. Her Savior.
Down the side of His face. O beautiful face.
So beautiful the way He received and accepted, even one like her.
The fragrance, spicy and sweet, carried her to a place so pure.
Pure nard. Pure Jesus. Pure Love.
Holy, holy, holy. It poured through her.
Holy, holy, holy. She was clean.
Wholly pleasing to her Savior.
Heart bowed low, spilling gratitude over the beautiful feet of Jesus.
Fitted with Good News. He came to set her free.
Can you sense the way it must have been?
Complete abandon, lost in peaceful pouring, oil and tears, grief and regret.
All poured out. All washed clean. Soul—bared, opened and finally free.
Pride! Swift the attack.
Pride! Cracked like a whip.
Vicious accusers examined the broken vessel. Kicked it aside.
Pride-blinded religious men, disdain dribbling from corners of sneers.
Their eyes said it all:
What kind of woman are you?
You. Are. Not. Worthy.
It jarred her back to the days-gone-by dirt on her own feet,
dust of broken dreams and regrets ground deep into her hem.
Her eyes turned from the beautiful feet to her own shadow cast on holy ground.
Shame weighed heavy on her. She belonged on the ground.
But surely not here, not at the foot of the King.
Blind to their own brokenness,
hearts hardened to the Living Word right there in their midst.
Unable to see Holy glimmer in healing and kneeling and brokenness.
Defender, He stands between the men, filthy in their self-righteousness,
and the woman, made beautiful and clean.
“Leave her alone!” Jesus commands.”Can’t you see, she’s done a beautiful thing!”
His words are a strong blow to Pride but somehow gentle toward her,
a balm for her soul.
It’s cool in His shadow. Safe.
I am safe.
Leave her alone. It washes over her, through her again and again.
Once for every time no one had been there for her. Once for every time
the ones there were not Shepherd-hearted. Accepting. Kind.
Leave her alone. Healed.
Leave her alone. Healed.
Like waves the Word washes in and carries off every hurt to sea.
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
You know accusers, too.
Whether real live people—or the acrid whispers that slip into your mind when you’re alone and tired and vulnerable.
Take heart! The Good Shepherd protects you.
His words are stern, but not for you. Pour it all out to Him.
You are broken, yes? He’s sees great worth.
There’s a glorious fragrance that spills from the woman who gives all she is to Him. His eyes are gentle, His countenance full of compassion.
It is safe at His feet.
His feet are indeed beautiful. They’ve walked long, hard steps to win your freedom.
Look to Your Shepherd, your Defender. Ask for His care.
He speaks over you, “Leave her alone.”
Bow down, let Jesus spread His protection over you.
“Leave her alone,” said Jesus.
“Why are you bothering her?
She has done a beautiful thing to me.”
—Mark 14:6 niv84