How Mary's Deed Illustrates Christ's Sacrifice for Us
Consider the motive that prompted Mary. It was not a hope of reward or even desire for praise, that she did this. She wanted to be unnoticed. Only the sudden fragrance that filled the room betrayed her. Faith working by love alone was her guiding principle, and that in turn was a reflection of Jesus' love for sinners.
What was the motive that led Him to His cross? Theologians may write their ponderous tomes trying to account for the strange act at Calvary, only to return, weary at last to realize that no reason can be given except agape.
How encouraging to Jesus to see reflected in Mary the image of His own character! In a sinner, do you ask? Yes, in "a woman … who was a sinner" (Luke 7:37) and a grievous one at that, He saw Himself reflected. As a positive print of a photograph comes from a negative, He saw in her love the print or likeness of His own pattern-love. "Reproach has broken My heart," He cries (Psalm 69:20); repentance has now broken her heart through the ministry of His own broken heart. Her's has become a likeness of His.
Heavenly angels, sing your songs of triumph! The plan of salvation is proven to be a success! A great milestone has been passed. So far as the cold-hearted Twelve are concerned, the risk God took at Calvary may not yet seem justified, but it is a success for this woman of Bethany. That means it will be a success for many! The sacrifice of God in Christ has drawn from her soul its complementary sacrifice: "a broken spirit: a broken and a contrite heart." Fortunately, God is different from the disciples; He will "not despise" it (Psalm 51:17).
Consider the sacrifice of Mary's deed.
It shines brightest when compared with the sacrifice of Jesus' offering for us. In commending her He said,"She has done what she could." He too has done all that He could.
If Mary was ever rewarded in a temporal way for what she spent for the purchase of that ointment, we don't know. But may He who emptied Himself, "humbled Himself, and became obedient unto death, even the death of the cross" (Philippians 2:8), may He find ample reward for His sacrifice! We have no alabaster flask of ointment to break upon His feet, but can we at least find tears with which to wash them? Lord, can You not find in us "seven devils" to cast out, that we might learn to love as Mary did!
The magnificence of Mary's deed shines brightest when likened to that of Jesus' sacrifice.
The disciples' reasoning was, Why this extravagance with something so precious? It's running to waste on the floor! Three hundred silver coins down the drain! We love Jesus, too, but just a few drops on His head would have been enough, Mary.
So we would have reasoned!
To this day the human heart is unable to appreciate the magnificence of Calvary's sacrifice, unless the Holy Spirit can somehow get through to us.
- Why give the divine life "a ransom for many" when only a few will respond?
- Why pour out a Niagara of self-sacrificing love when all but a trickle seemingly is wasted?
- His sacrifice was sufficient to redeem all of earth's billions of sinners; why pay such a price when the ultimate returns will be so meager?
- Why should His divine Form be racked with grief and tears over "Jerusalems" that don't know and don't care for their "day of their visitation"?
- Why not restrict the love and its expression to the few who will respond rather than pour out such an infinite waste that seems so useless?1
This is how the disciples reasoned about Mary's magnificence; and many think today the same way concerning Him of whom her love was but a type.
To answer we can only say that love is never genuine unless it is prodigal. Love never stints, never calculates. Mary's "very precious" alabaster flask of ointment was not bought at a bargain sale; she paid the full price for the finest that could be purchased with no grudging thought of economy.
One can imagine her visiting the shopkeeper. Seeing in her only a poor peasant, he suggests a cheap preparation. "Have you nothing better?" she asks.
"Yes, but it will cost you two hundred denarii."
"Do you have anything still better than this?" she persists.
"I have the very finest and most expensive, but it will cost three hundred. You can't afford that, Mary, it's only for a governor or emperor!"
"Let me have it," she replies. With her motive of faith working by love, she can do nothing less.
Could God, who is Himself love, do less than His utmost? He never thought of how to save the redeemed at the least possible cost to Himself. Heaven, the "ivory palaces," the devotion of a myriad of angels, the thrones of an infinite universe, life eternal, yes, the precious companionship of the Father, all Christ freely spent in giving Himself. An ocean of the water of life expended lavishly, and the only returns a few fragile earthen vessels filled with human tears of faith and love! How infinitely precious must those "bottles" (Psalm 56:8) be to Him! "O Israel, hope in the Lord: for with the Lord there is mercy, and with Him is abundant redemption" (Psalm 130:7).
Simon the leper's cold reaction to Mary's deed disturbs us.
Our host has been a silent witness to Mary's act of devotion. He seems not to be concerned with its extravagance as are the Twelve. Darker surmisings even than those are coursing through his soul, honest and practical as he may be.
He has not yet believed that Jesus is the Savior, though he has hoped that He might indeed prove Himself to be the Messiah. Having experienced the thrill of a miraculous healing from leprosy, he has condescended now to invite the Galilean and His poor followers to this social occasion so he can express his gratitude. In so doing, he avoids giving Jesus the honor of recognition as a social equal.
Watching the sublime spectacle of a repentant sinner wiping the tearstained feet of the world's Savior with her hair, Simon reasons darkly within himself, "This Man, if He were a prophet, would know who and what manner of woman this is who is touching Him: for she is a sinner" (Luke 7:39). How little does the self-righteous heart discern the credentials of heaven!
In the parable He used to enlighten poor Simon, Jesus reveals the lesson of the cross that enlightens every honest heart that will pause to survey it: you love in proportion as you sense you have been forgiven.
You're only a small sinner? Okay, you are doomed therefore to love little.
Simon having been the instrument in leading Mary into sin originally was clearly the debtor owing five hundred silver coins. By contrasting Simon's cold-hearted lovelessness with the warm devotion of Mary, Jesus tactfully revealed to his darkened mind the truly astounding realization: Mary's repentant love should have been his if the one forgiven most should love most.
The light even now shining from the cross illumined Simons heart and disclosed to him the almost hopeless sinner that he was. The infinite pity of Jesus saved him from an ultimate ruin greater than Mary's would have been. Simon could have also sung Wesley's hymn, "Jesus, Lover of My Soul," as Mary could.
Beware of misunderstanding.
The parable of Jesus was not intended to show that different degrees of obligation should be felt by us different sinners. Both Simon and Mary were infinitely and eternally in debt to the divine Creditor. Mary's love however was due to the simple fact that she knew she was a sinner and had been forgiven much. Simon had been forgiven little because he felt he had sinned but little.
Can anyone in God's eternal kingdom go about feeling superior to others? "I never was like the common run of people! I came from a good family and grew up on the right side of the tracks! My friends weren't the ordinary drop-outs, living loose, or using drugs, was pretty good on my own, and all I needed was a slight push to get me over the top into the kingdom!"
Wouldn't such words seem more appropriate coming from some whiner outside the City gates than from someone inside?
If Paul could call himself "the chief of sinners," can we do less? What light the cross may shed upon the unfeeling heart of Laodicea, the last of the great seven churches of history! Lukewarm, self-righteous saints will trail behind the publicans and harlots who, like Mary, will gladly repent when they hear the last message of mercy. "Many that are first shall be last; and the last first."
Notes:
- This reasoning is held by many Christians today who adhere to strict Calvinistic predeterminism. They understand that Christ died only for the elect.