Because I Said So...

As a parent, I struggle so with feeling guilty about telling my kids no. It seems that this two letter, one syllable word encompasses most of my conversations with my children. A trip through a grocery store can take me into a tailspin, as I can go from feeling like June Cleaver to Cruella Deville in sixty seconds flat. I try desperately to avoid those aisles. You know the ones...the ones with the completely processed, over sweetened, anti-nutritional (I may or may not have just made up a word there)  boxes in bright colors with attractive logos, or the bags of highly seasoned, overpriced chips in every flavor imaginable. Honestly, who needs a latte flavored potato chip? Really? Don't even get me started on the candy and soft drink aisles... And whose brilliant idea was it to put toys into a grocery store?!? Thanks a lot....as if I didn't just have to fight that battle at Walmart.

I am a firm believer in the affects of processed food on our health. I can tell just as good when I have eaten something that I shouldn't and I can tell even quicker when my little one is tanked on sugar, caffeine and dyes. Most nights I cook, because I believe that fresh food is better for us and that the more natural the better. But how do I explain to an almost eight year old, the nutritional benefits of only shopping on the outside perimeters of the grocery store?

Then it begins, the barrage of "whys" as my son begins to melt down or my daughter gives me "the look" (you know it) and I, in utter frustration, speak the words that I despise as much as they do "because I said so."

My children once heard the word "no" less than they do now. There was a time when just about every trip to a store yielded some small token, if nothing else, a pack of gum. This has been a major adjustment for my kids. To go from two, (sometimes three salaries), down to one and nineteen percent has been very difficult for my kids to understand. There is no way to effectively explain to the the sixteen year old that the forty dollar dress that she wants (that will ultimately end up left at some friend's house, or in the floor most of the time) is just a wish and not a want, nor to the little one why mommy can't purchase the $19.95 WWF wrestling figure today; when they have no idea how hard it is to pay a house payment, car payment, cell phones, cable, electricity, water, taxes, insurance, .......the list is endless.

And really, I should not have to be explaining these things to my kids so early on in their lives. I would be telling a lie if I did not admit here that it still makes me very angry to have been put into this position some days. And it is at the end of days like this that I quietly cry myself to sleep talking to God and it is these days that I ask my father why He says no.

And we know that for those who love God all things work together for good, for those who are called according to his purpose. Romans 8:28

I'm going to make another confession here. There are some scriptures that I absolutely can not stand. I know, I know that sounds blasphemous and I'd like to say that it makes me feel shame, but I'd be lying again. Thankfully, I know that the Father remembers that He created us from dust.  Romans 8:28 is one of those scriptures. So is Jeremiah 29:11. It's not that I don't love His word, it's just that when I hear these verses, I want it now! Right now! Like a spoiled toddler.

I think sometimes it is easier to not know what you are missing. Does that make sense to you friend? There are days when I wake going "God is this the day that everything that you have promised me will be fulfilled?" "Is this the day that all the promises will come to pass?" Then... quietly the day slips by. The morning turns to midday and noon becomes night and with the setting of the sun and the rising of the moon a resounding "no" echoes across the stillness of the silence of the midnight hour.

Does it break the Father's heart to have to tell His children no? I often wonder, does He grow tired and weary of having to say it over and over to me? Does having to say wait make him feel guilty like it does me?

You see, my children have no idea that I have been coached by a doctor in what to eat and what not to. They have now idea that I have researched the foods that contain certain chemicals and preservatives and that from my research I have made a decision for the greater good, for health benefits for them further down the road. They do not understand the implications that to not spend twenty dollars here and forty dollars there, then there will be cable this month.

Just like children, we do not see the big picture when it comes to the things that God has in store for us. Just recently God has allowed me to see glimpses of pieces of His plan for me and I will openly admit, I really, really, really hope that what I have seen will come to pass. Just this weekend, tiny teasers of the life to come. Just enough to leave me craving more, like a thirsty man in a desert who receives only a cup of water. Enough to leave me in a frenzy awaiting the next drink.

When I think of waiting I must think of two incidences within the Bible, both pertaining to the children of Israel. Can I tell you that I remind myself very much of those mischievous Hebrew children sometimes? Forty years these children wandered in the wilderness, asking why, complaining and generally being stubborn little brats. Theologians believe that it should have taken no more than ten days for the the Israelites to make the journey from Egypt to the Promised Land. Yet these characteristics, which I very begrudgingly admit to, are the very reasons they were turned around at the edge of the promise and taken back into the wilderness for another thirty-nine+ years.

Joshua and Caleb, the only original members of those leaving Egypt, were the only two of the spies to report honestly and truthfully the details of all that had been seen in the land set aside for God's chosen race. and were the only two say "let's do this!"  Yet for years, they must stand at the very edge of the land promised to their forefathers, and they could not cross back into all that they had seen with their own eyes because of the disobedience of others. Finally, they alone crossed over into the promise.

And these typically human Hebrew children totally missed God's provision in all this! The manna, the pillar of fire, the cloud of smoke, the parting of the sea, the water from the rock! Why, because they had one thing in mind and one thing only, the promised land. Not the journey, not the provision, not the One who guided them. 

I guess this is confession day for me because I must confess this also. It is days like this that the enemy screams in my ear the loudest, a resounding, repetitive command to "just give up", "the promise is just a dream", "you're crazy, just forget get all this and walk away". So many other lies. You see the Father has promised that He is going to take all this pain and frustration, all these broken dreams and ashes of my former life and He is going to make something beautiful out of them. He has promised that my journey will not be in vain. He has promised to use me and my story for a greater good.

My spiritual eyes have caught a glimpse of his purpose and plan, yet my physical eyes look around me and all I see are days and hours and minutes that I long to do and be more, for Him. I feel restless, that my Promised Land is right there. Right there! and there is some invisible line that prevents me from just stepping over into that place of fullness in His plan. I yearn to be in His perfect plan.

Last year, in this month, I was in a really good place. It seemed at every turn the doors were just swinging open wide. I was meeting influential people on a regular basis, I had a good clear vision of what the Lord wanted me to do. I had just entered seminary. I had begun working for a well known singer/songwriter and I had been dating a great guy for 7 months and I was in demand in a new area to relocate. Now most of this is still a part of my life, but somehow the finished line just seems just out of reach, like every time I get within inches, someone moves the line.

I've stated in past blogs, that fear is my "thing". That thing that can get me to be disobedient quicker than any other. Last summer, with a buyer for my house, a steal on a Condo in Mt Juliet and seven job offers in hand, because I could not see how this could ever possibly work out in my mind's eye, I accepted the wrong position. Because I could not figure out all the logistics, I did not take the job that I knew I should have and BAM! All doors shut, slam, slam, slam! Standing in my kitchen with one of my best friends, Lori, I got the call that the offer that I had accepted would have to be withdrawn as the funding was going to have to be funneled to a greater need. "Why God?!?! Why?!?"

But really, I knew the answer already.

Peter has always been a character that I have identified with. I always have the best intentions and some how I will blow it at times. I think Peter is a lot like me in that we are people who are used to getting a job done. We know what is necessary and we just do it. Fish need catching? Hand me the net! Report needs writing? Hand me the raw data! We are leaders but not always effective in that delegating is not our strong suit, if something is not done our way or in our timing, we tend to take the reigns. We have a vision of what it is supposed to look like and we charge headlong to the ultimate goal.

Like Peter, I was walking on the water. I was on top of the waves with my eyes on the prize, Jesus. He was moving so much in my life, clearly visible. Then suddenly, I look away just for a brief second. That's all it took, one glance in another direction, and we're sinking in the salty brine, waves crashing over us once again. For Peter it was the physical storm and waves, for me it was fear and idolatry. The ultimate goal had become my outcome and not Jesus.

"For we walk by faith, not by sight" (2 Corinthians 5:7)

I am such a visual person, I once had a photographic memory. You really don't want to play the memory game with me. This can be a good thing and it can be a bad thing. You see like Peter also, I find it difficult to walk in faith alone. I want to know the answers, I want to see the finished product. I want to see the big picture! I love 1000 piece jig saw puzzles, but in my need to see results, I must complete all the edges before starting on any other pieces. I have to at least see the outline. 

Thankfully, the One who made me knows this about me. He knew that this would be my thorn in the flesh. He knew that this would be His greatest battle with me and yet I know that He has chosen to use me anyway.

Proverbs 3:5-6 “Trust in the LORD with all your heart; and lean not upon your own understanding. In all your ways acknowledge him, and he shall direct your path.”

 And I am certain that God, who began the good work within you, will continue his work until it is finally finished on the day when Christ Jesus returns. Philippians 1:6

So He is teaching me to walk by faith and not by sight. To trust in Him and not the vision.  He is teaching me that I do not have to have the big picture, that I just have to trust that He holds all the answers, that He has a greater plan than my feeble human eyes can see. I just have to take that step out onto the water. My father is teaching me that when I ask why, sometimes all I need to know is "Because I said so..."

God, I trust you with all my heart. Wherever you want me to go, I will go, even if it's not where I planned. Lead me and I will follow.

Shannon

What Is the Cost of Your Oil (Part 3)

In the last portion, I submitted to you that Mary offered several things to the Savior that day in her humble act of sacrifice. First was the offering of her pride. She endured the ridicule and rejection of her world once again to honor the man to whom she owed so much.

Next was the offering of her past. I believe, having experienced something so similar, that it was on this day that Mary finally reconciled her sins  and salvation at the feet of the one who offered her that very forgiveness. I believe on this day she finally forgave herself.

I believe that next Mary brought to Jesus her promise. Every little girl dreams of the day that she walks down the aisle on her father's arm to the bridegroom waiting there for her. At the tender age of 16, I had a note book filled with pages torn from various magazines, my wedding completely planned out in my mind. From the Scarlett O'Hara white swiss dot organza hoop dress  complete with floppy hat to the yellow bridesmaids dresses, the perfect yellow roses to the summer gray tuxes the groom and groomsmen would don. Every detail was already set in my mind's eye. I even had the groom picked out. Jeffery was his name.

Needless to say, none of that worked out. I laugh out loud at the thoughts of how far off course the vision and the reality actually were. By the time I married, my father was deceased. My little white church was a chapel in Nevada and my beautiful white hoop dress was a champagne lace tea length dress wrinkled from the many hours of flight in a suitcase somewhere in the belly of a plane. There were no yellow roses, no gray tuxes, no family and friends to help us celebrate. Just a little round preacher, me and my groom whose name was not Jeff.

Mary was a woman, like any other. A woman feels before she sees, a woman can visualize her dreams and those dreams and hopes are as real to her as any tangible object. Like every little girl, Mary most likely held to the hope that someday her prince would come.

That is why her offering is all the more significant. Mary broke open the seal on the most costly possession that she owned, an alabaster vial of Nard, her dowry.  A precious perfume, often used in two rituals. One the consummation of the marriage and the other, the  burial of the dead.

Mary, first anoints the head of Jesus with the oil intended to anoint the head of her husband. In doing this, Mary has placed Christ above any earthly husband. She yields herself to "the bridegroom" and gives him the place of adoration and supplication that would have been reserved for her own husband. She then lays herself at his feet.

The scripture says that she washed his feet with her tears and dried them with her hair. Yet again another job conceded to the wife or servants, the washing of feet would have been one more act of submission and servitude on her wedding night. That day she brought to Jesus all of her hopes, her dreams, her desires and her promises. She lay them at his feet with her tears. Fully reconciled with her past, she knew this man alone could bring her the gift of eternal life.

Lastly, Mary brought to Jesus her passion. We females of every species are passionate beings. Just get between a woman and her kids, or her chocolate, you will see. Mary's tears were also a sign of her passion. She loved this man who had changed her in her inner most being. She loved that he saw something in her that no other could. She understood who he was, what he was doing and what he was about to do.

I believe she could feel in her spirit that all he said was true and she knew this would be the last time she would have an opportunity to show her love to him while he was alive and in doing so lovingly prepared his body for the impending death that she understood was to come. I believe she understood his mission better than anyone else, yet she still could not comprehend the resurrection he spoke of.

In her passion for who he was, she broke open the only thing she had to give him. Not the vial of precious oil, but her heart and in that moment she captured his heart as well. In the days to follow this event, her sister Martha would host another dinner where she would complain that Mary was being no help to her. Jesus would gently rebuke Martha and assure her that Mary had chosen what was best, to sit at his feet and drink in all that he would foretell.

When Lazarus was taken ill and eventually died, Mary runs to him and once again falls at his feet. Her passion for the loss of her brother overwhelms him and for the first time we see Jesus, the man, weep. I believe he felt her pain deeply because he knew that she believed he had failed her.

Martha was first to rush to Jesus on the road to Bethany, she spoke the words to him "if you had been her, my brother would not have died", Jesus assures her of who He is and that her brother we surely live again. He knows her well, Martha is a black and white kind of no nonsense gal. A real take the bull by the horns chic. She does not mince words, she says what she means and means what she says. A real go-getter and a leader. He knows her, he knows if He tells her, she will believe.

He then inquires as to Mary's whereabouts. He knows her too and when she utters the almost identical words as her sister, He knows that Mary is so much like the majority of humanity. She believes, yet there is just this small tinge of unbelief and this small portion pains him greatly. He assures her that Lazarus sleeps but only so that God may get the Glory.

Can I just admit here, this is me? Completely and totally. I believe. I know and yet my heart craves the physical manifestation of confirmation of the promises that God has given me. and when I do not see the evidence in the time frame that I think it should come to pass, then I can become devastated. Not that I don't believe the promises God has made, "but Lord if you had only........." I believe, Lord help my unbelief.

On that day in Simon's home, Jesus recognized the sincerity of Mary's heart and sacrifice, just as David capture the heart of the Father in his desire to do the will of the father despite his shortcomings.  When the disciples and other guests mocked her, he scolded them and honored her saying that what she did was a beautiful thing that would be remember and told through history.

Mary, beautifully broken Mary. The cost of her oil so great.

So as I sit here tonight, I ask myself the question that I ask you. What is the cost of your oil? There are not enough pages and time to list everything for me. My pride, my heartache, my pain, my hopes, my dreams, my sins, my husband, my shame, my guilt, my failures, my unbelief just a few of the things that I lay at the feet of my Savior. I know the depth of the sin from which he saved me and I too offer my oil in adoration of who He is and what He has done. I give him my tears of sorrow and gratitude.

I leave you with this. When Mary broke open the alabaster vial, the sweet spicy scent of the perfume permeated the air. The scriptures say its fragrance filled the air. When Mary dried Jesus feet with her hair, His scent would have become embedded in the very fiber of her being. Wherever she went, His fragrance would fill the air. But Mary chose a more beautiful thing, I believe that in sitting at his feet, absorbing all His words, the sweet fragrance of His spirit spilled over onto her and every where she went, people would know she had been with the master.

Holy Spirit, fill me with your fragrance and every where I go, may people know that I have spent time at Your feet. May they know that I carry You with me and may Your fragrance fill the room.

What is the cost of your oil? (Part 2)

"Why should I gain from His reward?
I cannot give an answer
But this I know with all my heart
His wounds have paid my ransom"

In Matthew, Luke and Mark's accounts the woman remains nameless, yet Jesus says that her name will be remembered through out the ages for this one simple act. Not for his glory but for her sacrifice. Each of these accounts refer to her as a woman with a sinful past, only in  John's account, do we learn that this is Mary, sister to Martha and Lazarus.

So what was the cost of Mary's sacrifice?

Mary brought to Jesus her pride. The scripture says that when she entered the home of Simon the other guests "peered" at her. I do not know about you, but I understand the "peer" all too well. I have felt that same gaze on me more times than I want to recollect. The "peer" is hostile, judgmental, it makes you feel dirty even after you have been cleansed. It is a tool used by the enemy at the hand (most often, unfortunately) of those claiming righteousness. I've been guilty myself, a few times, of offering the "peer". It emanates disgust and contempt.

Mary knew the home she was entering into. Most likely there was some family connection, as Martha was there serving that day and Lazarus was one of the members in attendance. Theologians are not in agreement in Mary's description. Some even propose that this incidence is a flashback of such, to a time prior to Lazarus' death and resurrection. Either way, Mary knew her sin without having to be reminded, just as none of us really needs another to call out our sin. Even the soul in denial has some inkling left deep inside that speaks to what little good is slumbering to say "awaken, return to the way you know you should go".

She entered the home of a Pharisee, the people of this time, knew the religious leaders. The reputation of these men of the law was well known. Before taking her first steps through the doorway, Mary knew that ridicule, at the very least, awaited her. Her gratitude greater than her pride, she made her way to the one who had saved her from herself and the sin that had so long held her captive.

She understood the depths from which he had saved her and everything within in her compelled her to fall before his feet. Past the scoffers, the peering crowd, those who would have cast her out given the chance.

In the summer of 2012, the Holy Spirit compelled me to confess the sin that had been my downfall in the presence of 500 or so of my fellow church folk. Terrified, broken, humiliated, I confessed what I had done. My sins long since forgiven by the Savior, yet, the Spirit moved me to do this painful act. Confused, yet obedient, I lay in tears all night asking the Father, "why would you have me do this?" the answer at the time was "so that your husband could see the sacrifice made for him" yet now, I also see that this had to happen to take down that last little piece of the wall of pride in my life. The walk of shame as it were. Now, some would say that a loving God would not require such or that a loving God would not cause pain on purpose. I beg to differ, you see, my Father knew I would have to hit the very bottom of myself, that I would have to be stripped of all areas of pride, that I would have to remember this confession, in order to be used in His kingdom as He wanted to use me. I had no choice other than to put my pride to the side, walk past the "peering" of those who claimed to love me most, and be obedient to the one who would reclaim my sin for His glory.

Mary brought to Jesus her past. I love this character of Mary, probably more so than most of the biblical characters. You see, more than anyone else who came in contact with Jesus on a regular basis, I believe Mary got it. She, even before the disciples, understood who He was and what He not only meant for her but for the world. These poor 12 disciples are so much like church folk today. God bless their hearts, they were good guys. Plain and simple men, men from good homes, men from uneventful pasts. Not one "real" sinner among them. You know what I'm talking about! It is so easy for those raised in church to take for granted the saving power of Christ.

Let's face it, we humans weigh sin. We like to give it degrees, measurements and a rating scale. In the Inferno, Dante describes his version of what he believes Hell to be. Nine circles, each circle representing a level of sin higher than the rest. We mere mortals like this, it makes us feel better to compare our sin to those of others around us. While there is no particular scripture to dispute this, and while there are divisions of sin and abominations in the scripture, the fact still remains that one price and one price alone makes the atonement for all sin: the blood of the Lamb of God. Therefore we are to assume that no sin outweighs another.

You see these men, these church folk, who are to be commended for their keeping of the laws, had no idea and no way to measure the depths of the restitution to be made for their souls in just eleven short days. Mary, having tasted just a small portion on Earth, knew the Hell that had awaited her prior to her touch from the Savior. She knew exactly what she had been saved from.

Mary lay it all at his feet that day. I can tell you from personal experience, though the Lord had forgiven her sins, probably many months before this day, Mary still carried the guilt and shame with her. It is incomprehensible for the  soul entrenched in sin to fathom how one act of repentance can wipe the slate clean. Here again our human nature takes charge and the condemnation of the enemy and our fellow man is carried with us like an internal scarlet letter. We project the actions of humans onto the character of the Father. The rejection and judgment of man must surely be a reflection of the Father's heart.

So forgiven of her sins, I believe it was on this day that Mary reconciled in her own heart and mind the provision made for her in this Savior and finally forgave herself.

Don't forget to check back for part 3 of What Is the Cost of Your Oil?

What is the cost of your oil? (Part 1)

Part One

As is common for me, the Lord woke me with a song this morning. Sometimes it is the sound in my head that wakes me in the wee morning hours. Sometimes it comes to me as I am preparing for my day. Sometimes it is a hymn, sometimes a Southern Gospel song, sometimes as a Praise and Worship song. Always, it is something that not only speaks to my circumstances at the time, but often is a promise for the situation. Today was no exception. Before my eyes opened from slumber this morning, in those moments where you are not quite awake and not quite asleep, in my spirit I heard these words so sweetly sung by Selah

Oh, draw me Lord, Oh, draw me Lord

and I'll run after you. 

I lay here for a little while singing this song, not as a song but more as a prayer. Draw me, Lord...Draw me....

Implying that I cannot do this myself. That it is His strength that brings me to Him. Actually, this is not an implication. In the last few days, it has not been my strength or my searching that has brought me before the throne, but the Power of Christ alone. 

For several weeks now there has been constant chaos. To a person who already finds it hard to trust people, these last few weeks have had me on edge. From the outside, I know that is not how I appear. I appear confident and open and trusting, but really that is not who I am. I'm the person putting myself out there, then waiting for the next shoe to drop. Most of my experiences in life have left me expecting people to walk away, expecting the betrayal, expecting to be hurt. Being completely and perfectly honest right this minute, with myself and you, there are a small handful of people who know most things about me, no one really knows everything about me. And as near to me as these dear friends are, it would not surprise or shock me if betrayal were to suddenly come from their hands. This is not a reflection by any means on their character or moral fiber, it is simply a self-preservation coping mechanism that I have carried with me through out my life. 

Three years ago, the Holy Spirit gave me a command. Since then many things have changed, things have come to pass that in my mind's eye I never could have conceived. In all of this, I tend to project my experiences with humans onto our Heavenly Father. I hear His voice and I've seen His hand in so many situations and areas of my life, yet, still I sit here in my frailness and expect Him to disappoint me like His creations. 

While in my devotion time this morning I read the account of the the alabaster box from the book of Mark. We all know the account. Jesus is dining with Simon the Leper, who actually at this time should have been called Simon the former leper. You see Simon has been cleansed at this time, the healing power of Christ has already touched his life. We know this from the mere factor that dignitaries are dining with him. Had he remained in his disease, he would have been quarantined or exiled. This put an incredible new spin on this story for me. 

Simon's salvation and restoration from this disease cost him very little. Apparently, it was so insignificant to him that even after being miraculously healed, he returns immediately to his Pharisaical mindset. Arrogance, superiority, piousness, self-righteousness. He has also surrounded him self once again with people who share the same attitudes. 

Judas, never ceases to disappoint as the villain. Perhaps if we did not know the end of his story we may be able to identify with him more. Let's face it, no one wants to be the bad guy. Everyone wants to be the guy in the white hat on the white horse. We all want to ride off into the sunset the hero. But what if we did not know Judas as the betrayer, what if we never knew that such an atrocity against the savior would come from his hands. Would we be able to see ourselves in his judgement in this story? Would we too, being in this setting have thought of the practicality of her actions. I do not fool myself into believing that Judas was worried by any means about the poor, but I do know that most of us would look at the her actions and see only the monetary implications. "If I had her money I would have....." "or she should have...." fill in the blanks with your own thoughts. 

In the past, I have been so guilty of this. I'm so ashamed to say that it is easy for me to slip back into this old mindset, like Judas, like Simon, like the other guests, the congregation as it be. In my travels and ministerial opportunities I have been in all denominations, little country churches and churches of thousands. Churches with millions at their disposals and churches where the pastor puts his salary back into the offering plate just to keep the doors open. Yet this one thing I have witnessed in almost every congregation, let someone come in that does not look like us, let someone come in filthy, in clothes we deem inappropriate, with a deforming disability, with a reputation of some sin we ourselves have not committed, with something that keeps them from just quite fitting in. How many people greet them after church, how many slide over to let them sit beside them? 

I'm not pointing fingers here. I have been just as guilty on way more occasions than I care to admit. I still struggle with this. I have to make a conscious effort to not let my mind go into that place of spiritual arrogance. Because the truth is, if we could see the inner being instead of the outer shell, then there are many times in my life that no one would have spoken to me, no one would have acknowledged me, no one would have offered me a seat. 

In ancient times, it was customary for women to receive a dowry when becoming the the age for marriage. Often times this dowry was something of high value, passed as an heirloom from mother to daughter. It is believed by some scholars that Mary presents herself with her dowry. In this day of plastic and ceramics, of excess and surplus. It is hard for us to comprehend the significance of what Mary has done here.

My mother loves trinkets and boxes and bowls and vases. Through out her home, there are knick-knacks galore. I dare say that there is not one table top, corner or shelf that is not consumed by a plethora of things to constantly be dusted. At every turn there is something new to capture the attention. If it sits still, there is something sitting on it. My minimalist decorative style is a constant source of frustration for her I am sure. I don't like to dust, period, so I'd rather not have the knick-knacks. Its beautiful, its elegant and I'm sure many of my readers enjoy the same style. Turn them all over and most will say made in China, India or Mexico. Cheaply produced by mass production, in factories where the workers are paid a pittance for the work of their hands, and sold in Walmarts, Targets and Kirklands throughout the US where we can pay as little or as much as we want for something that has no practical use. 

This is not the case with Mary, most likely this was the  most valuable possession she owned. Mostly likely it represented all the wealth she owned. Most likely it was saved to be her dowry or to anoint the head of her husband on the night of her marriage, and act of symbolism, and supplication and submission to the man she would pledge the life and loyalty to. 

The oil inside the box would have been costly. In the scriptures it is named as Nard. Nard being the common name for Spikenard which is a derivative of a plant found high in the Himalayan mountains. Hard to find, hard to harvest, difficult to process and found far from the home of Simon the Leper.  By the time production and transportation were paid for this oil, its value was not something the sane person would want to waste. The shock and disbelief that Mary would present this oil to someone like Jesus was well deserved. 

These very people, including some of the disciples, knew there was something significant about Jesus. They wanted to believe he was who he said he was, yet there was something in them that still scoffed from time to time. In this scene alone it is evidenced as it is said, "If he were truly a prophet, he would know who this woman is...".  If is one of the smallest words in the English language yet implicates so much. 

But this was not the end to the costliness of Mary's sacrifice, the very alabaster box was not really a box as we would conceive it, on the contrary it was more like a vial. This vial was not a machine made, mass produced glass bottle in which we are used to seeing our perfumes stored. The vial that would have held this precious, priceless oil would have been painstaking and perhaps elegant carved by the hands of a master craftsman, hours and days maybe even weeks would have been allotted for the production of this one vial. Before being placed into the hand of the artisan, the alabaster itself would have been dug from the quarries somewhere in Egypt, most likely by the hands of one in captivity and already a price would have been paid for its acquisition. Once the transformation from a block of gypsum into a beautiful vessel was completed, the oil would have been painstakingly pour with precision, so as to not lose one drop. The cap would have been set in place and a permanent seal would have completed the preparation for the new owner. This alabaster box would then have made a journey from market to market along the trade ways of the Middle East until it was purchased at a great price by someone who knew its value. To think that Mary had come into its possession was nothing short of miraculous in itself. 

Be sure to join me for part two of What is the cost of your oil?

Today's offering Oh, Draw Me Lord by Selah