It broke my heart and stole my resolve.
As a writer, rejects come. It’s kind of part of the whole deal, it happens and though difficult, it usually helps me grow. But this email rejection bit like dog’s teeth into the fabric of my being. It wouldn’t let me go.
I’d labored hours upon hours, writing, re-writing and starting over again. I’d sacrificed time with family and friends. I’d spent money and taken advice. I’d neglected things that needed to be done and pushed myself out of every comfort zone that I’d hugged tight. I opened my soul to the deep breaking waves of thought to word.
But then, it amounted to nothing.
Perhaps you’ve experienced something similar. Maybe you know the crush of rejection, the feel of wasted effort and time. Possibly, you know the sting of unappreciated labor.
Simon, a friend of Jesus, hosted a group of people at his home in Bethany. We aren’t told his whole story, but one distinguished as Simon the Leper, likely had known the healing hand of Jesus.
The cross loomed ahead just days after the meal at Simon’s house.
Jesus’ whole life had been one of sacrifice, giving to others, working tirelessly. But, His greatest sacrifice lay ahead, grueling and undeserved. He anticipated it with every thing that He did.
A woman came to the table where the group gathered, and broke open a jar of expensive perfume called nard. She poured it over Jesus’ head. (Mark 14 and Matthew 26)
“It’s a waste!” they cried.
“The expense!”
“It could have bought meals and clothing for the poor!”
“She could have used her time to do things profitable for others!”
“What a waste.”
They were appalled, offended by the perceived misuse of something so valuable.
This reaction came from Jesus’ disciples, experts of ministry, learners from the Master Himself. They walked and talked with Him, were close to the ever billowing needs which begged His help. They saw the lame healed, the mute speak, and the dead live again. They worked hard. They gave up home and family, comfort and jobs. Poor and needy, young and old, those vulnerable and grieving occupied days and consumed their nights.
Yet, when a troubled woman, in devotion to Her Savior, broke a bottle of expensive perfume and poured it out on Jesus, they recognized it as a waste. They saw someone who broke the norm and shook the status quo. She messed with how things should be done.
I wonder if the criticism upset her. Did she feel humiliated? Misunderstood? Mocked? Did a sudden uncertainty plague her? In the perfume filled air did she feel the disciple’s disapproval, as if the wounds of her soul had been declared insignificant and irrelevant?
“Why this waste?” the disciples asked. “For this could have been sold for a large sum and given to the poor.’” (Matthew 26:8-9 ESV)
Why had she gone public with something so deeply private? The call of her heart and the professionalism of her action didn’t mesh according to those with authority.
In fact, Simon’s guests were outraged. Think of the bottom line, the expense, the interruption to a perfectly good meal.
“But Jesus, aware of this, said to them, ‘Why do you trouble the woman? For she has done a beautiful thing to me.’” (Matthew 26:10 ESV)
She has done a beautiful thing.
How tender are those words. How affirming of her devotion “to Him.”
You may have given much in a relationship but received heartache in return.
You may have worked hard and long on a job and you wonder, for what? You might feel the pain of investing heart and soul into an endeavor only to have it regarded as a waste of resources, unnoticed and unrewarded. Perhaps a bit like a writing project rejected.
Jesus gave everything for us.
Everything.
I don’t really know what motivated the woman in Matthew to anoint Jesus with such costly oil. I don’t quite get it either. Maybe she wasn’t even sure why she did it, but I do know it came from some ardent spring inside her, something that outflowed from the depths of her soul. It wasn’t for others. It was “to Him.”
Nothing done for Him is wasted. Rather, it is like an offering of pure nard.
Hair dripping with the powerful scent of her perfumed oil, He understood. Jesus knew what perhaps even the woman could not comprehend. She anointed Him for death and burial, a beautiful thing.
Perhaps you feel a kinship with the woman, as if you’ve wasted something precious, but received little for your sacrifice. Be encouraged. Jesus sees things differently.
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