Beautifully Broken

As I look back over the rough and jagged road that has been my life, and as I am greeted in the faith by others who have walked a similar road, I am always humbled by the revelation of God as the master craftsman.  Jeremiah 18:4 describes him as a potter, carefully working the wheel, when the work becomes "marred" in His hands (an imperfection in the clay, no doubt).  Rather than simply discarding the creation and beginning again, the potter reaches down deep and reforms the clay into a vessel fit for use. Repeatedly throughout scripture, and often in the lives of His children, we see God reach down and begin to work with those things that are broken, stained, or disfigured to create a masterpiece that speaks to the skill and passion of the master craftsman.

His passion for those things that are broken is evident from the beginning.  At the start we see him take an absolute waste and from it create a world of unimaginable wonder.  He refashions an orphaned murderer into a man who would free his people.   He takes a freckle-faced, red-headed whip of a boy and with him slays a giant.  He takes twelve of the most unlikely candidates and with them, He changes the world, but  His passion for the broken may be no more beautifully displayed than in the all-too-familiar story of the alabaster box.  Invited to the house of a pharisee and seated before a well-prepared table, I imagine that Christ relished the look of horror that crossed the face of his host when this woman stumbled into the room:

Luke 7:37  And, behold, a woman in the city, which was a sinner, when she knew that Jesus sat at meat in the Pharisee's house, brought an alabaster box of ointment,  (38)  And stood at his feet behind him weeping, and began to wash his feet with tears, and did wipe them with the hairs of her head, and kissed his feet, and anointed them with the ointment.

It didn't matter that Christ was in the house of one of the most devout religious groups of the day.  She did not consider the rudeness of her behavior, nor the fact that she would be interrupting His meal.  It mattered only that she had heard where Christ could be found and knew that she must find him.  A precious, priceless alabaster box cradled in her arms, I can very nearly see her standing, tears streaming, as she finally lays eyes on the carpenter's son.  Broken by the weight of her past and stained by the opinions of the present, she speaks not a word, but kneels at the feet of her Savior, shattered but unashamed.   Humbled enough to wash the dirt from the feet of a road-weary Jesus, she uses her tears to do so, tears that the Psalmist tells us are taken note of by God himself.  Then, in the ultimate act of surrender, she takes her hair, her glory, and lays it quite literally at the feet of Christ.  As she continues to kiss and anoint His feet, her message seems clear:  "Nothing - not my alabaster box, not my dignity, not my pride, not the opinions of others - nothing is worth more than being in His presence."  Yet, the message, as is often the case with "church folks," was lost on the pharisee, and immediately the questioning, the second-guessing, begins:

 Luke 7:39  Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spake within himself, saying, This man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that toucheth him: for she is a sinner.  

The cynicism is readily apparent.  "Just as I thought," Simon says, "If he really knew who was touching him, well then..."  This same feeling finds its way all too easily into the hearts and minds of modern Christians, and, as a result, we miss the examples being provided here, both in the person of Christ, and in the woman with the alabaster box. Christ, knowing full well the opinion of the pharisee, doesn't stop the woman in her ministrations, nor does he pull away; he allows her worship, for it can be termed nothing less, knowing, as he does, that it stems from a broken heart in desperate need of love and forgiveness.  He doesn't reprimand the sinner, but rather allows the sinner to teach the church a lesson in humility and holy abandon:

Image from:
http://www.godlywoman.co/2011/12/alabaster-box.html

Luke 7:44 And he turned to the woman, and said unto Simon, Seest thou this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head.  (45)  Thou gavest me no kiss: but this woman since the time I came in hath not ceased to kiss my feet.  (46)  My head with oil thou didst not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment.  (47)  Wherefore I say unto thee, Her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little.

In how many of our church services could the same question be asked of us?  How often do we invite Christ to dine with us, but hope that he doesn't require too much of us?  Do we, sensing his presence, disregard the thoughts and opinions of those around us and begin to worship with reckless abandon, or do we judge those who do?  Every story, every character in God's Word provides us the opportunity to see a reflection of ourselves, and all too often, that reflection looks nothing like Christ.  Many times have I read this story and seen myself as the Pharisee, quickly passing judgement based on what I think I know.  A few times I have been able to follow the example of Christ, and allow others to worship in their own way, praying only that they would feel the loving restoration that can come only from the hands of the Master Craftsman.  Most often, however, I find myself in the position of the woman with the alabaster box, burdened with failures and disappointments, desperate for his presence, needing to be restored, wanting nothing more than to hear him whisper, "You are forgiven; go in peace."