“She did what she could.” —Mark 14:8
Some thought it was foolish.
Others thought it was outlandishly extravagant.
Perhaps others thought she should have done even more.
Jesus simply said, “She did what she could.”
In a single, whole-hearted gesture of worship, Mary anointed Jesus with an alabaster jar of extremely expensive perfume. That single flask was so valuable it was worth a year’s wages (See Mark 14:3-9).
Jesus didn’t see it as a waste. And he didn’t see it as foolish. But, surprisingly, he also didn’t seem to think of it as particularly extravagant.
True, he defended her before those present. He also strongly commended her. He said what she did was beautiful. He said it would be remembered. But he didn’t label it extravagant.
He simply said she did what she could.
That encourages me. My whole-hearted expressions of worship may seem foolish to some. They may seem extravagant to others. Still others may observe from the sidelines and assume I could (and should) do more.
I just want to do what I can.
When we have a true revelation of Jesus, giving him our all really isn’t particularly extravagant. It’s reasonable. In the presence of such grace and truth; such majesty and humility; such mercy and righteousness–such love–giving him everything is the only thing that makes sense. I can’t give him what I don’t have, but I don’t want to hold back anything I do have …
I just want to do what I can.
Because that’s what he wants. That’s when heaven stops and takes note. That’s when the fragrance of our worship floods and fills the courts of the King. That’s when our offering becomes an eternal treasure that is celebrated throughout the ages.
When we do what we can.
Jesus, I want to give you my all. I want to pour every drop of this life out before you, without holding anything back. That’s not extravagant–it’s reasonable. I’m not after accolades and I’m not seeking attention–I’m after your heart. No matter what it looks like on the outside, I just want to do what I can. Because when I do–it pleases you. It makes you smile. And I know you remember and treasure those moments of abandon … for all of eternity. I love you, Lord. In your name, Amen.
Cindy Powell 