Cracked, Broken and Spilled

Early this morning I received a message from a precious woman--a woman who knows how to use and craft words. Her words to and for me brought me to tears. I needed to hear them. And those tears brought me to my own words.

While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of a man known as Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.                Mark 14:3

I was the woman bowing and bending at Jesus’ feet at the table. Spilling the tears and the ugliness of my insides. 

I was her—this woman, scorned and berated and shamed.

This woman with the ill reputation. I  resonated with her. I sympathized with her.

But (there’s that glorious God conjunction)  our sweet God shows us how we fit into the story in unexpected ways.

I am the jar too.

I am the alabaster jar.

I am the alabaster jar filled with nard.

I am the broken alabaster jar filled with nard.

(How can something be broken and still be filled? Oh, the wonderful paradoxes of God's grace!)

I am the broken alabaster jar filled with nard and poured out on Jesus’ feet.

I am the broken alabaster jar filled with nard and poured out on Jesus’ feet in worship.

Isn’t that amazing?

Isn’t that just amazing?

My brokenness can be transformed into worship.

                                                                                                    

My cracked, broken and spilled life can become an offering.

It will not be wasted. It will not be lost.

It will be redeemed and it will become something beautiful.

For his glory.

And all the present tenses of this writing can be changed to past tenses. He has already done these things. He is still doing them and he will do them.

From glory to glory.

In increments this broken alabaster jar will empty and be refilled to the measure of all the fullness of God.