The Woman & The Alabaster Bottle

I can almost see her now. Gathering her shawl around her soft, smooth shoulders and walking quickly down the cobblestone streets of the city. She moves with the determination that is only seen in the gait of a lady who is on an important mission. She was on her way into an area where - according to the protocol of her culture - she would not be allowed. But who can think about tradition when an urgent action commands a loving heart to move?
She bundles her shawl around herself, knowing better than to think it was the cool evening air that had caused the chill running down her spine. It was really the uncertainty that all of us feel when we know we are entering an environment whrere we are not invited and may not be well received. Yet this woman was compelled to keep walking. Even if people rejected her and scoffed at her brazenness, she had to go.
She knew that the stranger would be there. If she were ever going to tell Him what He had meant to her, she must do it now. Somehow she sensed that she was running out of opportunities. She almost found herself sprinting, racing to pick up her pace. She had to make it to the house in time. She did not know what she would say or how she would do it. And she didn't care.

True praise cannot be rehearsed. It is spontaneous as the moment of inspiration that births it.

Adoration and adulation for Him compelled her to risk the taunts of the people around Him. She knew that they would not receive her warmly. But, who were they to reject her because of who she used to be? How dare they whisper about her as if she were the only sinner in the room?Had they not also failed along the way? She was no different from them; but then again she wasn't looking for them. If it meant passing through them to get to Him, she was willing to brave their stares - just to get close to the stranger.

How easily we forget our own weaknesses when we start looking at someone else's. This woman's struggles had become the meal of the ravenous local gossips whose minds were filled with nothing but the memories of someone else's affairs. Though she knew that the stranger had set her free, still she must have felt a bit intimidated as she drew nearer to the place that He was.
Isn't it strange that all of us who pursue God must be prepared to confront things? We must face our fears and survive the stares of our peers who either do not approve of who we are now, or sneer at us because of who we once were. If we are going to reach our goals in Christ, or in life, we must press through public opinion and intimidation. We must know that every step we take is moving us closer and closer to our destiny. The bitter taste of fear is neutralized by the sweet exception of victory.

She was snatched away from her musings by the realization that her feet had taken her where her thoughts had already been. She was at the door of the Pharisee's house -the house where Jesus was. She stood at the door, her feet almost frozen to the floor. She felt paralyzed by the hesitation that always precedes the opening of a door that will unlock hidden destiny and changes use forever. Her hand touched the door, and suddenly she knew that she was about to cross the threshhold into her divine purpose. I was compelled to come to this place, she must have thought as she twisted the latch that unlocked her fate.
Before she could move away from the door, she stepped into the house, and found herself the object of a room full of unwelcome stares. She was the only woman in a seriously male-dominated environment.

But sometimes maximizing a woman's potential requires her to walk into the presence of men, even when they would prefer her to stay outside.

She had made it through the door and it was too late to constrain her with their traditions. She had come to see Jesus. She entered a poorly lit room. Her nostrils caught the scent of baked bread and fresh fish. it was obvious that the men had come for dinner. No one invited her to have a seat - much less a morsel of bread. But she had not come to see them, nor had she come to eat a fine meal. She had braved the evening air and bucked tradition with one thing on her mind. She had come to see Jesus.
No one even said hello as she walked into the room. She felt her blood throbbing through her veins. her breathing was so shallow, she could barely fill her lungs with air. She was tempted to run out of the house and retreat into the shadows of the night.

There is nothing quite as frightening for a "sinner woman" than to walk into a room full of self-righteous people. It would have been as scary for her as it would be for a modern-day woman to walk through gunfire with no bulletproof vest.

As dangerous as it had been for her to travel alone in the darkness, that now seemed more inviting than the room. She might have walked back toward the door, but it was too late. She had seen Him.

Woman of God, when you see Jesus, all fear vanishes. Just one look into the warm eyes of a loving savior can disarm everything life uses to assault our peace. Can you imagine Him in the room with you? Just knowing He is there clearly dispels any apprehensions you may have felt and leaves you in His wonderful presence. Though it sometimes happens in a public place, when we recognize the presence of God we are immediately alone with Him. And that is the most glorious place we can be.

There He was. The Master Himself. And He no longer seemed like a stranger. When she saw Him, all thought of sneers and jeers and whispers, slipped from her mind like steam from a kettle. Her eyes locked on His. Something about Him commanded her attention. She had been in the company of many men. But none were like this man. He was distinctly and remarkably different from anyone else. Everyone who had ever encountered Him had been changed forever. She was no different from the others. He had changed her life. He had spoken to her femininity. He had healed her self-esteem and altered her tragic path of failures and poor decisions. She had not come to ask anything of Him. She just wanted to say one thing to Him. She wanted to say thanks. But face to face, words failed her.
She tumbled to His feet. She had heard the men murmurung earlier - talking about her amongst themselves. But now her ears were filled with the roar of an inner excitement. The room was electrified by a power she could not even see.

I can't help wondering how those who said they loved Him the most could stand with such indifference in the presence of such power. How could they make the foolish mistakes of taking for granted the presence of an awesome God? They should have been lying at His feet, but they were too busy jockeying for earthly position. Herein is the greatest threat to those of us who have been Christians for a long time - our tendency to take for granted the presence of Christ. The Jesus we have become so accustomed to is the Jesus that others are striving so desperately to touch.�

At the risk of being shunned and scoffed and mocked, the woman began to sob helplessly at His feet.

True worship strips away pretense and reveals our naked need of the Lord.

She lay at His feet and remembered where she had come from. She was so thankful to be with Him now. She had made many mistakes. She was an experienced woman. She now regretted so many of those experiences. She had stumbled and faltered through life, caught up in the storm of human error. In the midst of her tempestuous environment, He had saved her life from destruction. She had never known a love like this. In front of all those men, she broke down and began to sob. It was the kind of sobbing that comes from a heart that had been through too much to talk about. Evert word escaped her, and her tears spoke what her lips could not say.
Each tear reminded her of another incident she had survived. It was as if everyone had left the room but this one woman her Jesus, her Lord.

True praise is so intimate that even if someone else is in the room, His face is the only one we can see.

And she began to lavish Him with praise - the kind of praise that only comes from someone who has been lavishly forgiven.
Her praise irritated the Pharisees. In fact, it even condemned them. Until she arrived, the atmosphere in the room had seemed quite normal. Business as usual. But when this woman begsn to thank Jesus from the depths of her heart, she unintentially magnified their gross ingratitude. Their indignant stares would have been to much for her had she looked up. But this woman was literally lying on the floor. With trembling hands and a tear-streaked face, she stretched forth her fingers and touched Him. It was as if lightening had bolted through her. She knew that one touch, that one intimate touch had changed her forever. She was alone with the Lover of her soul.
In that moment the woman was able to give Jesus the praise that He always deserves but rarely receives. She knew what it was like to be surrounded by opportunistic and self-serving people who thrive on false intimacy. She wanted to protect Him from the pain of their betrayals and denials. She wanted to rock Him like a baby. She wanted to shield Him from any hurt that might await Him. She wanted to envelope Him with the same sense of safety He had given her, but all she could do was stroke His feet. She had pressed her way through the dark night to be there. She was with Him, and all was well for one solitary, stolen moment of history.
Oh, she had almost become so engrossed in the lavish love of the lonely Prince that she had forgotten to give Him His gift. It wasn't right to come before Him without a gift. he had done too much for her not to give back to Him. She reached within the folds of fabric that made up her garments and found it where she had hidden it from the thieves of the night, her alabaster bottle.
The bottle was worth the equivalent of one year's wages. When she pulled it from it's hiding place, everyone in the room gasped. No doubt they thought she had come to hand it over. She had not.The precious spikenard had been very important. It was very, very valuable. it would have bought an excellent price in the market had she put it on the table at the auction. But it was not for gain. It was for love. She raised the exquisite bottle designed to hold the exotic perfume, and as the men watched in disbelief, she broke it at His feet.
One of His disciple began to mutter angrily. He had wanted to sell it and pocket the money. But it was too late. The aroma of her praise had already begun to waft through the air. It drove back the smell of the dinner they were planning to eat.
The little sinner woman had taken over the place with her love. The fragrance filled the room until all of those around her could not help noticing it. They dropped their heads, one by one, as they realized how badly Jesus needed ministry.

Dear Lady, do you have any idea how badly the body of Christ needs your ministry? Your praise can make a difference in the entire atmosphere of a meeting. Men have a tendency to become engulfed with politics and position We don't mean to, but many times we miss opportunities to be intimate with God. Sadly, we become so busy with His work that we fail to lie at His feet. When we do, it reminds us that we have failed to entertain Him and appreciate Him. As this woman lay at His feet, no man could deny that she had affected everything around them forever. And she had profoundly affected the Master. It was obvious to them, in that one act of kindness, that true praise is expensive. If you are going to have the kind of anointing that alters atmospheres, it comes at a great price.

They stood in awe as she bathed His feet with her precious ointment and tears. She untied her hair, which would have been socially improper in that day, but this wasn't about propriety. She had to bless Him. She began to dry His feet - the one that would soon be nailed to a tree - with her hair. The next time they would feel the rough hands of a roman soldier forcing them together and driving a spike through them. Her tender cares were the closest thing He would ever know to a loving touch. She knelt at those feet and worshipped.

This woman affected massive change with her praise and her giving. She gave herself, her substance, and her time. She realized in the house of Pharisees that true praise is not so much what you say; it's more aptly what you do. She is the official representative of every woman who has ever felt locked of His presence by the traditions of men. She is the Queen Mother of every woman whose past sins should have kept her out of His presence, but ushered her in instead. She is the ambassador for every woman who praises under pressure and worship amidst criticism.
But the greatest legacy she leaves for women to understand is this: You have the ability to make a difference if you humble yourself under the mighty hand of God. You can make a difference if you give Him what you feel without regard for what other people think. We are not told what kind of sin this woman commited. It is enough for us to know that this kind of radical praise comes from a heart that is broken by the humility of failure and made whole by the honor of forgiveness. We can only speculate what this woman had done wrong, but there is one thing we know. Somewhere beneath the aroma of her expensive perfume, beyond her unbound hair, behind her praise, there is a story.
And so it is with all who love Him. We give Him public praise for the private things He's done for us. It is the secret things He had done which make us all weep at His feet. He said that whenever the gospel is preached, people would always remember this woman who traveled through the streets to thank Him for something neither of them ever told!!
My sister, the Lord knows your secrets. he knows the secret desires of your heart, and He knows the secret sins of your soul. May I tell you one more secret? Jesus is longing for you to sit at His feet and pour out your passion. He would love nothing more than for you to fall on your face and worship Him with the full force of a woman's emotions. Get your alabaster bottle. Round up that which is most precious and break it before Him. Let the sweet perfume of your ministry fill the place where you are, and praise Him with extravagance.

T.D. Jakes