Costly Perfume

Let my praises rise like incense
Let this offering fill Your senses
All for You, all for You

I pour it out at Your feet
All I am for You
I pour it out at Your feet
All my costly perfume
The fragrance fills the room
All my life for You

This is only a portion of a song that I recently wrote about the woman with the alabster jar, who pours her perfume on Jesus. Most of the song talks about shame and about dealing with the crowds who are all staring at her. What she did cost her far more than the years worth of wages held that perfume bottle; it cost her her dignity, her pride, and her reputation. While her reputation wasn't much to begin with, I imagine that there was a sort of pride she carried in not associating with those who considered themselves better than her. And yet, she walked into a room filled with those very scoffing eyes and mocking voices because she wanted Jesus more than anything else.

That kind of passion and courage astounds me and amazes me and enthralls me. I want it and yet am terrifed of it--that reckless abandon that threw absolutely everything at His feet. She was a complete spectacle--a snotty red-eyed mess, her hair absolutely everywhere, covered in perfume and tears and dirt from Jesus' feet. All the while the dignified religious men were watching, mouths agape in disgust, shock, and horror. And Jesus just stood there. And received. Think of that...he received out of her disaster. Most of us would have called her crazy, He called her blessed.

In the middle of her most vulnerable, humbling, messy moment yet, she became the most beautiful, talked about, and captivating woman in the New Testament. I wonder how she felt. Did she feel foolish? Relieved? Exhausted? Overwhelmed? Ashamed? Free? Forgiven? Healed? All of the above? What drove her to so foolishly fall at His feet in the middle of the crowd--at someone else's house, no less? I am fascinated by this woman, and I am fascinated by how much her story moves me. I think what fascinates me most is how very very different we are and how very very much I relate to her.

Like her, I am driven by this passion to give everything for Jesus and yet everything isn't easy. Everything costs. A lot. And there are so many moments when I don't like what it costs to follow Jesus; it hurts, it's hard, it's unpleasant. And sometimes the road just plain gets lonely. Being in another country and another culture, I feel as if I'm often up and down, up and down. There are moments of such, such sweetness with The Lord and with my teammates and with new people. And then there are moments of such frustration and confusion and overwhelm. I can't decide whether I really want to be around people or I really want to hide away in my room and never emerge. And yet in the middle of my vacillating emotion, there is a continual steadiness, an unchanging knowing that I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be: that the team I get the privilege of working alongside has been handpicked by God to be together. And that is wonderful, wonderful joy. And no matter what I'm feeling in the moment, I know that I know that I know that this is of God. Emotion will always take a backseat to that.

I guess what it comes down to is this: this is my offering. Being here. Following Jesus. Ministering alongside this team. It's beautiful and wonderful and costly. In Bend, I had an offering, it just looked different. It would have cost me to stay and it costs me to go. Here, the costs are simply more evident since my go-to comforts aren't as easy to come by. In many ways, it's healing. In many ways, it's refreshing. In many ways, it's filled with joy. And in many ways, it's hard.

But that's this journey, isn't it? And I wouldn't have it any other way.