My Alabaster Box

The sounds of shock and disgust rippled through the room. I could feel the glares penetrating through my torn, loose robe. No one dared speak to me, immoral, the harlot, the sinful woman, whatever other titles used instead of my name. Quiet chatter scurried from person to person, all wondering who invited me. I could hear the whispers, “How dare she come here?” … “What nerve!”… and, the one that I hated hearing above all others, “Whore!”

Most of the women refused to remember my name and prayed that their husbands didn’t either. How far removed from the days when we sat around together, hair in tight braids, playing with our dolls and dreaming of the future. Back when life was simple. I never thought I would end up here– avoiding the women I once called friends; not looking any of them in the eye out of fear that one would yell out the whispered insults. As if walking in here alone wasn’t humiliating enough.

Each step through the tight crowd flashed a horrific memory in front of me. Every mistake I made in private seemed to be haunting me openly. Each man I let touch me then hurt me seemed to appear in the smoke from the candles lighting the room. My heart felt on fire from those flames. I was starving and yet the smell of the freshly cooked meal only turned my stomach. Shame barely described the raw pain that radiated from my forehead to my feet.

“What am I doing here?” was all I could think. I turned to go and then remembered. Jesus.

He was different from any man I had ever been around and I had been around many. He was so pure. He was honest. Innocent. A beautiful image of the deepest desire of my heart. Not in any romantic way, but in a wholesome, loving way. When I heard him speak, even to multitudes, I felt like he was speaking directly to me. When he spoke, my past didn’t matter. He wasn’t after my body. He cared about my soul. He spoke of life brand new.

New life. I could only imagine… a life free from the guilt and shadows of my past. A life free from the whispers and glares. An honest life. Maybe I could have my dreams come true and be a wife and a mother. I hadn’t allowed myself to even consider such nonsense because of the awful sins I had committed. Sins that paid my expenses, but created more debt.

All of the whispers that filled the house that day were truth. I was the harlot. The sinful woman. Yes, even the town whore. Men flocked to me for attention and, for a price, I gave them everything they asked for. I deserved all of the condemnation. I deserved to be a social outcast.

I was raised better than this. I knew the sins I committed daily were an abomination to the Lord. It had been such a long journey to this place that I lost my moral sense long ago. Survival was the key and I knew no other solution until the day I met Jesus.

All of these thoughts consumed me as I walked through the house that day. The gossip surrounding me only reminded me of who I was. I turned to walk away, run away, get away from those people. What was I thinking?

Then I heard his voice. Jesus. Yes, that is why I had come. I turned and started elbowing my way through the crowd once again. I had to be near him.Oh, there he was. My heart started pounding. I remembered the things he said. New life. Nothing else mattered but that I find my way to him to thank him. For his love. For forgiveness. For a fresh start. I had changed.

I had nothing precious left in the world except one tiny alabaster box of the sweetest smelling perfume. It was the only offering I had to give to him. As I walked closer, I was overwhelmed. How could I say thank you? How could I express the extent of my gratitude in a way that he was worthy of? Suddenly, my little box of perfume didn’t seem enough.

“The nerve!”, “Get her out of here!”, “Do you see that harlot walking close to Jesus?”, “Immoral woman!”, “Whore!”… all of those accusations swirled around me. But as I stepped closer to Jesus, each insult reminded me of how much my life was changed. Yes, I was that woman. But this Jesus had come and shown me a better way, a way out of my sinful life, a way to start over. He showed me mercy and grace wrapped into each syllable of his sermons and parables.

Tears began rolling down my face. I was so embarrassed, but I couldn’t stop them and then I realized it didn’t even matter. I speechlessly bowed down to his feet, my tears mixing with the dirt covering his toes. Had no one washed his feet when he came in? Without thinking, I pulled down my hair and began wiping the dirt and mud away. I kissed his feet.

The whispers. The panic. The room erupted with judgment. I had just violated the prim and proper standards. Only in intimacy was a woman supposed to let her hair down. And kissing a man’s feet was such an personal display of affection. Never mind the audacity of doing it in public. But I didn’t know what else to do. Men paid me to lavish my affection on them. The only way I knew how to show this Jesus my love and appreciation was to offer him my affection freely. The perfume I had used to seduce men, I poured out on his feet. In my purest moment of gratitude, I gave him all that remained of my past.

He didn’t speak to me at first. One of his followers stood very near. Jesus must have heard the whispers and sensed the questions, even unspoken.

“Do you see this woman?” I heard Jesus ask. “I entered your house; you gave me no water for my feet, but she has washed my feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head. You gave me no kiss of welcome, but this woman has not ceased to kiss my feet since the time I came in. you did not anoint my head with oil, but this woman has anointed my feet with fragrant oil. Therefore I say to you, her sins, which are many are forgiven, for she loved much…”

Then he turned to me. The entire house stood still. He may have whispered, but I heard it louder than the roaring thunder, “Your sins are forgiven.”

Mercy poured out from his eyes and into my soul. I sat in stunned silence. I was forgiven. My past, my pain, my sins were washed away in that precious moment. A peace flooded through my heart. A smile covered my face.

He continued, “Your faith has saved you. Go in peace.”

And I did. (John 7:36-50)

—

Today, thousands of years from her story, I, too, sit in awe of His mercy and grace. Ignoring the whispers and chaos that has surrounded my past mistakes. Forgiven of my sins, with scars proclaiming my many healed wounds. My heart cries out…

Oh, Holy God, I stay amazed, You are so much more than words could ever say

 

Oh, Holy God, I pour out my praise on the One who never ceases to amaze

 

 You are enthroned above the Heavens, The Earth and all creation bow before You

 

You are crowned with strength and glory, The angels crying, ‘Holy!’ all surround You

 

Forever You will stand, Your Kingdom has no end

 

 Oh, Holy God, I stay amazed, You are so much more than words could ever say

 

Oh, Holy God, I pour out my praise on the One who never ceases to amaze

 

 You are loving beyond measure, Your presence is the treasure I am seeking

 

You are all consuming fire, I am Your desire and You are mine

 

 I’m pouring out my praise on You, I’m pouring out my love on You…

 

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