Mark 14:9

For a memorial of her.

Works done for Christ remembered and recompensed

The doing of works has been over-valued in one part of the Church’s history, i.e., works as separate from the motives which led to them; and, as you know, for a long season language was held as if there was a merit in works, and as if they could make an atonement for sin, and wipe out a man’s past misdeeds, and as if, if upon a death bed he made great sacrifices to Christ’s church, that wiped out years of lust, covetousness, and cruelty. And so, by a revulsion of feeling, which always must beset the Church, it has come to pass, that amongst us men have been afraid of speaking of the great privilege, and of the great duty, of doing works of love for Christ’s body, the Church; and there has come amongst us a mawkish, miserable sort of notion, that we are to cultivate inward feelings, affections, and the like, and that this is all of religion, and the whole of the reality of it, at which we are to aim. But this is not the whole of the truth of the thing; this is a very poor and miserable counterfeit of Christianity. Wherever Christianity truly takes hold of the deep of any man’s heart, it will show itself, not only in guiding his feeling but in guiding his actions, in leading him to a generous, devoted, and loyal-hearted service; it will make him bring his “alabaster box,” and break it, and never count its price, and never reckon nicely whether he could lay out his money to better profit elsewhere; it will stop all such objections as-“Had it not better been sold and given to the poor?” for there is a munificence about love, and there is a grandeur in the giving of a loyal heart, which Christ loves to see, and which He will surely reward. In two ways this is set before us in the text.

1. In the readiness of our blessed Master to receive the offering; the way in which He at once stepped in between the woman and her reproof, the way in which He put down the objection, whether it was urged in hypocrisy, or whether in the darkness of a half-faith, that she had better have sold it and given it to the poor; the ready way in which He stepped in and at once acknowledged “She hath done what she could,” “she hath done it against My burial.” The woman, perhaps, knew not that Christ was near His end. But so it is, that love comes at the hidden truth of things, before the things themselves have been revealed. The man who is acting from love to Christ is a sort of prophet; he fore acts upon that which is yet hidden in the counsels of God.

2. By the remarkable promise added. See what enduring honour was this which Christ put upon this deed; see how far it goes beyond any worldly honour which we reckon the highest in order. Those who labour for God will reap an abiding honour, which is to be got in no path of earthly service. This little thing which seemed to err in the doing, this thing which seemed to be done so easily, so naturally, which cost this woman no thought beforehand, but which was just the impulse of a loving heart-this has lived on and been spoken of, though all the Roman empire has passed away. The great gulf of forgetfulness has swallowed it up, but the Lord our God endureth forever; and even the miserable works of man, when done for God, are gifted with endurance too. It is wove, as it were, into the web of God’s greatness; and so it lasts on, and the blessing and the memory of it lives on in this world of change, long after the great world of things which surround it has sunk down beneath the distant horizon, and this comes up like some mighty mountain which was swallowed up by those that stood near it and seemed greater than it, but now in the far distance it stands out alone in the light of heaven and tells us that it is unlike all the rest. And so it has been often with things done for God, and for Christ, and for His Church.

I. Encouragement. The remembrance of this woman is a pledge that God will never forget His people. Worthless though their work is; mixed as it is in the motives from which it springs, even in the very best men; stained, therefore, as it is with sin; yet, for Christ’s sake, it is accepted, and, being accepted, it shall be rewarded. Here, then, is a great motive to exertion in God’s service. Sow largely this passing opportunity of time with the seeds of eternity. Put out your lives, and all you have, at interest, where God will pay again that which you lend Him. Make ventures for Him. Cast into the dark deep of His providence that which He will give you again with interest.

II. Duty. The power of doing this comes from your being a Christian; therefore the necessity of your doing it is bound up in the fact of your being a Christian. You are not living as a Christian if you are not doing it. The power of working for God is the fruit of your redemption. It is because Christ has redeemed us that we can serve God with an acceptable sacrifice; that creation has received us back again into the place which sin had lost for us; that all things can be full of God to us; that we can in fact serve the Lord, knowing whom we serve, and sure of being accepted; that everything we have has become a talent-our station in life, our daily walk, our conduct in our family and in the world around us, that these are tasks set us by God, just as much allotted to us because we are Christians as the tasks of angels are allotted to them; so that it does not matter where or what I am in life; whether my life is mean as men judge, or great as men judge, it matters nothing; it is the aim of my life which makes the whole difference. (Bishop S. Wilberforce.)

Work not for success, but for God

You are not to labour for visible success. This is one of the great reasons why those who had begun to work for God are seen to faint. They think to gather, when they should sow. They mean to do some great good, and they set about it heartily; it all turns to disappointment; and, as they were working for success, they sit down and work no longer. Remember, brethren, you are working not for success, but for God. You are to work in the dark. It is the very condition of life. In heaven we shall work in the light-shall see the work of God; but not here. In this life we must work in the dark; we must give to the unthankful; we must give, because Christ is represented in the poor and miserable around us, and because this is the only way we have of breaking our “box of spikenard” upon His body. And if we labour in love, there is a secret law of love bringing us to the result. The saints of God have found this. They have done something in love, because “the love of Christ constrained them” to do it; and, it may be in the next generation, or even in the generation after, it has begun to work mightily. They have founded some little institution with a liberal hand, and that little institution has swelled and grown into a mighty fortress, in which the truth of Christ has been stored for a whole generation; they have opened a door in the desert, and they knew not that multitudes, who should travel that way, would thank God for the refreshment thus afforded to them. (Bishop S. Wilberforce.)

A very pleasant way of getting ourselves remembered

Human aggrandizement gives no permanent satisfaction. I had an aged friend who went into the White House when General Jackson was President of the United States, four days before President Jackson left the White House, and the President said to him, “I am bothered almost to death. People strive for this White House as though it were some grand thing to get, but I tell you it is a perfect hell!” There was nothing in the elevation the world had given him that rendered him satisfaction, or could keep off the annoyances and vexations of life. A man writes a book. He thinks it will circulate for a long while. Before long it goes into the archives of the city library, to be disturbed once a year, and that when the janitor cleans the house. A man builds a splendid house, and thinks he will get fame from it. A few years pass along, and it goes down under the auctioneer’s hammer at the executors’ sale, and a stranger buys it. The pyramids were constructed for the honour of the men who ordered them built. Who built them? Don’t know! For whom were they built? Don’t know! Their whole history is an obscuration and a mystery. There were men in Thebes, and Tyre, and Babylon who strove for great eminence, but they were forgotten; while the woman of the text, who lovingly accosted Jesus, has her memorial in all the ages. Ah! men and women of God, I have found out the secret; that which we do for ourselves is forgotten-that which we do for Christ is immortal. They who are kind to the sick, they who instruct the ignorant, they who comfort the troubled, shall not be forgotten. There have been more brilliant women than Florence Nightingale, but all the world sings her praise. There have been men of more brain than missionary Carey-their names are forgotten, while his is famous on the records of the Christian Church. There may have been women with vases more costly than that which is brought into the house of Simon the leper, but their names have been forgotten, while I stand before you tonight, reading the beautiful story of this Bethany worshipper. In the gallery of heaven are the portraits of Christ’s faithful servants, and the monuments may crumble, and earth may burn, and the stars may fall, and time may perish; but God’s faithful ones shall be talked of among the thrones, and from the earthly seed they sowed there shall be reaped a harvest of everlasting joy. (Dr. Talmage.)

Christ deserves the best of everything

That woman could have got a vase that would not have cost half so much as those made of alabaster. She might have brought perfume that would have cost only fifty pence; this cost three hundred. As far as I can understand, her whole fortune was in it. She might have been more economical; but no, she gets the very best box and puts in it the very best perfume, and pours it all out on the head of her Redeemer. My brothers and sisters in Christ, the trouble is that we bring to Christ too cheap a box. If we have one of alabaster and one of earthenware, we keep the first for ourselves and give the other to Christ. We owe to Jesus the best of our time, the best of our talents, the best of everything. If there is anybody on earth you love better than Jesus, you wrong Him. Who has ever been so loving and pure and generous? Which one of your friends offered to pay all your debts, and carry all your burdens, and suffer all your pains? Which one of them offered to go into the grave to make you victor? Tell me who he is and where he lives, that I may go and worship him also. No, no; you know there has never been but one Jesus, and that if He got His dues, we would bring to Him all the gems of the mountains, and all the pearls of the sea, and all the flowers of the field, and all the fruits of the tropics, and all the crowns of dominions, and all the boxes of alabaster. If you have any brilliancy of wit, bring it; any clearness of judgment, any largeness of heart, any attractiveness of position, bring them. Away with the cheap bottles of stale perfume when you may fill the banqueting hall of Christ with exquisite aroma. Paul had made great speeches before, but he made his best speech for Christ. John had warmth of affection in other directions, but he had his greatest warmth of affection for Christ. Jesus deserves the best word we ever uttered, the gladdest song we ever sang, the most loving letter we ever wrote, the healthiest day we ever lived, the strongest heart throb we ever felt. (Dr. Talmage.)

Give the children to Jesus

Is there a child in your household especially bright and beautiful? Take it right up to Jesus. Hold it in baptism before Him; kneel beside it in prayer; take it right up to where Jesus is. Oh, do you not know, father and mother, that the best thing that could happen to that child would be to have Jesus put His hands on it? If some day Jesus should come to the household, and take one away to come back never, never, do not resist Him. His heart is warmer, His arm stronger than yours. The cradle for a child is not so safe a place as the arms of Jesus. If Christ should come into your household where you have your very best treasures, and should select from all the caskets an alabaster box, do not repulse Him. It has seemed as it Jesus Christ took the best; from many of your households the best one is gone. You knew that she was too good for this world; she was the gentlest in her ways, the deepest in her affections; and, when at last the sickness came, you had no faith in medicines. You knew that Jesus was coming over the door sill. You knew that the hour of parting had come, and when, through the rich grace of the Lord Jesus Christ, you surrendered that treasure, you said: “Lord Jesus, take it-it is the best we have-take it. Thou art worthy.” The others in the household may have been of grosser mould. She was of alabaster. The other day a man was taking me from the depot to a village. He was very rough and coarse, and very blasphemous; but after awhile he mellowed down as he began to talk of his little son whom he had lost. “Oh, sir,” he said, “that boy was different from the rest of us. He never used any bad language; no, sir. I never beard him use a bad word in my life. He used to say his prayers, and we laughed at him; but he would keep on saying his prayers, and I often thought, ‘I can’t keep that child;’ and I said to my wife: ‘Mother, we can’t keep that child.’ But, sir, the day he was drowned, and they brought him in and laid him down on the carpet, so white and so beautiful, my heart broke, sir. I knew we couldn’t keep him.” Yes, yes, that is Christ’s way; He takes this alabaster box. (Dr. Talmage.)

A thank offering for Jesus

Now, my friends, this woman made her offering to Christ; what offering have you to make to Jesus? She brought an alabaster box, and she brought ointment. Some of you have been sick. In the hours of loneliness and suffering you said: “Lord Jesus, let me get well this time, and I will be consecrated to Thee.” The medicines did their work; the doctor was successful; you are well; you are here tonight. What offering have you to make to the Lord Jesus who cured you? Some of you have been out to Greenwood, not as those who go to look at the monuments and criticise the epitaphs, but in the procession that came out of the gate with one less than when you went in. And yet you have been comforted. The gravedigger’s spade seemed to turn up the flowers of that good land where God shall wipe away the tears from you: eyes. For that Jesus who so comforted you, and so pitied you, what offering have you to make? Some of you have passed without any special trouble. Today, at noon, when you gathered around the table, if you had called the familiar names, they would have all answered. Plenty at the table, plenty in the wardrobe. To that Jesus who has clothed and fed you all your life long, to that Jesus who covered Himself with the glooms of death that He might purchase your emancipation, what offering of the soul have you to make? The woman of the text brought the perfumes of nard. You say: “The flowers of the field are all dead now, and we can’t bring them.” I know it. The flowers on the platform are only those that are plucked from the grim hand of death; they are the children of the hothouse. The flowers of the field are all dead. We saw them blooming in the valleys and mountains; they ran up to the very lips of the cave; they garlanded the neck of the hills like a May queen. They set their banquet of golden cups for the bee, and dripped in drops of honeysuckle for the humming bird. They dashed their anthers against the white band of the sick child, and came to the nostrils of the dying like spice gales from heaven. They shook in the agitation of the bride, and at the burial hour sang the silver chime of a resurrection. Beautiful flowers! Bright flowers! Sweet flowers! But they are all dead now. I saw their scattered petals on the foam of the wild brook, and I pulled aside the hedge, and saw the place where their corpses lay. We cannot bring the flowers. What shall we bring? Oh, from our heart’s affections, tonight let us bring the sweet-smelling savour of a Christian sacrifice. Let us bring it to Christ, and as we have no other vase in which to carry it, let this glorious Sabbath hour be the alabaster box. Rawlins White, an old martyr, was very decrepit; and for years he had been bowed almost double, and could hardly walk; but he was condemned to death, and, on his way to the stake, we are told, the bonds of his body seemed to break, and he roused himself up as straight and exuberant as an athlete, and walked into the fire singling victory over the flames. Ah, it was the joy of dying for Jesus that straightened his body, and roused his soul! If we suffer with Him on earth we shall be glorified with Him in heaven. Choose His service; it is a blessed service. Let no man or woman go out of this house tonight unblest. Jesus spreads out both arms of His mercy. He does not ask where you came from, or what have been your sins, or what have been your wanderings: but He says, with a pathos and tenderness that ought to break you down: “Come unto Me all ye who are weary and heavy laden, and I will give you rest.” Who will accept the offer of His mercy? (Dr. Talmage.)