Mark 14

Love's Gift

She hath done what she could. Mark 14:8.

Today I am not going to give you a text, but I am going to tell you three stories, and after you have heard them I shall ask you to find the text yourselves.

The first story is about something that happened a year or two ago. It happened at Charing Cross Station in London.

One cold spring day a train of wounded was arriving from France and a crowd gathered to watch the soldiers being helped to the ambulances. In one ambulance four badly wounded men were tenderly laid. They were covered with warm wraps and someone in the crowd placed on the top of these a few golden daffodils. A little ragged barefoot newsboy who had wormed his way to the front of the crowd, as little boys usually do, ran forward as the ambulance moved off, and beside the flowers threw four copies of his evening paper. Then he dived hastily into the mass of onlookers and disappeared from view. But not a few people in that crowd said to themselves our text.

The second story is about something that happened centuries ago. In fact it comes to us from what people call the Middle Ages.

In those days there lived in France a certain poor juggler who went from town to town, from village to village, and earned his living by doing various tricks. He would spread on the ground a piece of carpet to represent a platform, then he would make a little speech, and then he would do marvelous balancing feats with a tin plate, some knives, and six copper balls.

Now it chanced one day that the poor juggler fell in with a worthy monk, and the monk told the juggler about Jesus Christ and how he and his brother monks lived only to praise and serve Him. As the juggler listened he felt that he also would fain serve the Christ, so he went with the monk to the monastery, donned a friar's robe and hood, and became a brother. They gave him the name of Brother Amicus, which just means “friend.”

Now, as time passed, one thing greatly grieved Brother Amicus. It was this all the brothers were able to do something to the praise and glory of God. One could write beautiful thoughts, another could paint exquisite letters on vellum, a third could sing like an angel, and a fourth could carve lovely white images of Christ. All could do something all except Brother Amicus.

Then one day he heard our text, and an idea came to him, and as he thought of it his face, which had been sad, shone with happiness. Day after day it glowed till the other monks could not help but notice it. They noticed, too, that he spent much of his time in the chapel of the monastery. At last they set themselves to watch, and what do you think they saw? This: Brother Amicus with his juggler's dress and his old piece of carpet, and his plate and knives and balls juggling, more wonderfully than he had ever juggled to man, in front of the great white statue of Christ. The balls tossed and the knives flashed, and Amicus bent and twisted himself till beads of perspiration stood out on his brow.

The watching monks were horror-stricken and would have rushed forward to stop such an exhibition in the holy place, but the story tells that just as they were going to do so the figure of Christ stooped forward and gently wiped the perspiration from the juggler's brow. Christ had seen only the yearning love in the heart of His humble servant.

The third story carries us back nineteen hundred years.

The people of a certain little Eastern village had made a feast in honor of a great Physician who was passing through their village. They had made the feast to show their gratitude to the great Healer for the many wonderful things He had done in their midst. He had come to their village many times, and every time He had come He had given them cause to bless Him. But this feast was to celebrate a specially wonderful deed of His. Shortly before this, one of the chief men of the village, an intimate friend of the Physician, had fallen ill. They had sent urgent messages to the Healer that His friend was at death's door, but before He had arrived the sick man was dead. He was even buried. Then the Physician had worked a miracle more miraculous than any He had worked before. He had gone to the grave of the dead man, and at His call the dead man had come forth from the tomb restored to life and health. No wonder that the village wanted to honor such a Healer!

The feast was held in the house of another patient of the great Physician one Simon, whom He had cured of leprosy. Everybody was vying with everybody else to show the Miracle-Worker how grateful they were for His kindness. It was a splendid feast. The man who had been brought back from the dead was there. So was his elder sister. She was helping to serve at table. But his younger sister did not come into the room till the middle of the meal, and when she came in she did what we in this country would consider a very strange thing. She walked over to the couch on which the great Physician reclined (for in these days they did not sit up at table as we do), and taking from the folds of her dress a beautiful flask of costly perfume, she broke it and poured the perfume on the head and feet of Him who had given her back her brother. And so sweet was the perfume that the whole house was filled with the odor.

Now, anointing with perfume was supposed to be a very special way of showing homage and honor in the

East, but so costly was this perfume that some of the guests shook their heads and said to each other, “What a waste! Just think what a lot of money that flask would have brought had it been sold! Why, it would have bought a dinner for hundreds of poor people!”

But the great Physician Himself did not say, “What a waste!” He saw the love that lay behind the gift. He saw that the woman wished to give Him the best she had to offer. So when the people murmured He rebuked them and said the words of our text.

For this third story is a Bible story, dear children, and you will find it told in three of the books of the New Testament Matthew, Mark, and John. These all tell the same story, but each gives us a little bit of information that the others leave out. It is Mark only who gives us the sentence that fits our other two stories of today.

Do you think you can find that sentence? It consists of six words. Two of them are three letters long, three are four letters long, and the longest has only five letters. I think almost the tiniest child here could read that sentence.

Look for it, boys and girls, and when you have found it think over it well and say to yourselves, “I should like Jesus to say that of me.” I too should like Him to say it of each of you. But remember that you don't need to do any very brilliant or any very wonderful thing to win that reward. You merely need to do but there! I was almost giving away the text!