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
No comments:
Post a Comment