The alabaster jar
Lavish devotion
Six days before the cross, at a dinner in Bethany, Mary did something that scandalized the room. She took a pound of pure nard — an extravagantly expensive perfume, worth nearly a year's wages — broke it open, anointed Jesus' feet, and wiped them with her hair. The whole house was filled with the fragrance. It was an act of staggering, impractical extravagance, poured out in pure devotion to Christ.
Judas objected, voicing the calculating logic we might share: this could have been sold and given to the poor. The criticism sounds reasonable, even spiritual. But Jesus defended her without reservation: leave her alone; she has done what she could. There is, the moment teaches, a place for lavish, even impractical, devotion to Christ — not everything must be justified by usefulness.
This is a needed balance for a stage on the active life. We have rightly emphasized mercy, service, and works — but Mary reminds us that not all devotion must be practical or productive. Sometimes love simply pours itself out on Christ in extravagant, uncalculating worship, and he receives it as beautiful. The active life is not pure utilitarian usefulness; it has room for the alabaster jar broken purely for love of him. Is there a place in your devotion for lavish, impractical love poured out on Christ for his own sake?
“Mary took a pound of ointment of pure nard, very precious, and anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped his feet with her hair.”
— John, of Mary at Bethany — John 12:3 (WEB)
Make room for lavish, impractical devotion poured out on Christ for his own sake — not everything must be justified by usefulness.
“She has done what she could. She has anointed my body beforehand for the burying.”
A calculating spirit creeps even into our love for Christ, demanding that every gift justify itself by usefulness, as Judas demanded of the perfume. The interior work is to let Mary's extravagance overturn our tidy accounting — to learn that worship sometimes has no defense but adoration and needs none — and to make room in a serving life for the alabaster jar broken purely for his sake.
This week, pour out something lavish on Christ for his own sake: give time, resources, or worship to him extravagantly and impractically, with no calculation of usefulness, simply because you love him.
The enemy reduces every act of devotion to a ledger of usefulness, so love is never once poured out on Christ for his own sake. But the alabaster jar broken in sheer, impractical worship is an extravagance no calculation can shame — Jesus himself rose to defend it and called it beautiful.
We bring a calculating, utilitarian logic to devotion, and Judas voices it: that expensive perfume could have been sold and the money used. The criticism sounds reasonable, even spiritual. But Jesus defends Mary's extravagance without reservation — she has done what she could — and receives her lavish, impractical act of love as beautiful. Not all devotion must justify itself by usefulness.
This is a needed balance for a stage on the active life, with all its rightful emphasis on mercy, service, and works. Mary reminds us that love sometimes simply pours itself out on Christ in extravagant, uncalculating worship, breaking the alabaster jar for no reason but love of him. The active life is not pure productivity; it has room for the costly gift given purely for Christ's sake, with no practical return. Is there a place in your devotion for lavish, impractical love poured out on Christ — or has all your devotion become useful and calculated?
- Has all my devotion become useful and calculated?
- Is there room in me for lavish, impractical love poured out on Christ?
- What might it look like to break the alabaster jar for him?
Lord, I bring a calculating logic even to my devotion, demanding it all be useful. Give me Mary's extravagance, to pour out lavish, impractical love on you for your own sake, breaking the alabaster jar purely because I love you. Amen.