“I’m giving this to God,” I told her. “I’m giving up control. He can do whatever He wants with it.”
I really meant it–I really thought I meant it.
I had thought long and hard about my alabaster jar filled with all I held dear. I had held it tightly for so long and it was starting to burn me. So, I decided I would give it to God, fully. I didn’t want the control, the worrying, the manipulation that came with protecting that jar.
I was so glad I had decided to give it to God. He would take care of it much better than I would.I was free.
But I didn’t feel free.
I felt bitter. I was in a power struggle with God–like a little kid who buys their friend a birthday gift and wants to keep it. And I realized I hadn’t truly given it to God. I had just said, “Hey God, can you hold this for a little while?”
I gave my desires to God for safekeeping. One day, He would give it back to me–when I was ready. Surely, He saw that this was a real step of maturity for me. But you know what he told me?
He said, “I don’t want it. I want you. I want your trust and your devotion. I don’t want this perfume. I want you to trust that I am ALL you need and that all I am will satisfy you more than your precious jar ever could.”
And I believe Him.
I believe His promises.
I believe that He will withhold no good thing.
That He is working all things together for good for those who love Him.
That if I commit my way to Him, He will act.
He will bring forth my righteousness as the light and my justice as the noonday. He has always been faithful; and though my treasures may fail me, He will never leave me nor forsake me.
To be honest, I’m still in a power struggle with God.
But this time, I’m not trying to take my jar back. I’m asking Him to help me as I struggle to pour out this alabaster jar–drop by drop. I’m watching the perfume mingle with my tears as I pour it on his feet.
It’s still a daily struggle, but this perfume has never smelled sweeter.
“And behold, a woman of the city, who was a sinner, when she learned that he was reclining at table in the Pharisee’s house, brought an alabaster flask of ointment, and standing behind him at his feet, weeping, she began to wet his feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head and kissed his feet and anointed them with the ointment.”
– Luke 7 : 37-38