BELOVED BROTHER:-It is some time since I found such rich blessings to my soul, such joy, such gladness, as I found in meditating upon the 14th of Mark, this afternoon; and I feel that I must tell out to some, one the sweet things that have made my own heart so simply happy.
There is something in the account of the woman anointing the head of Jesus, recorded in Mark, that I never before noticed particularly; and as it occurs only in the gospel of Mark, which, as you know, is the gospel of service, it is peculiarly interesting and valuable to us. "And being in Bethany (the place where that beloved remnant, so dear to the Lord's heart, dwelt-Lazarus, Mary and Martha, John 12), in the house of Simon the leper, as he sat at meat, there came a woman having an alabaster box of ointment of spikenard, very precious, and she brake the box, and poured it on his head." The things that are fresh to me are, that it was an alabaster box (or vase-an alabaster) and she broke (not opened) it. Now it is only in Mark, the gospel of service, that we have this. John says nothing of the box, and Matthew says nothing of breaking it. There must be something then in the breaking of the alabaster vase of peculiar value regarding service. Now what I asked myself was this: Have I broken my alabaster? Is the most precious thing that I have (for it is there the spikenard is hid) broken? and broken, not by God in force, as it were; but by myself, voluntarily, gladly? I may have worked for the Lord, I may have done much for the Lord, but have I a something that is not given up (an ἀλαβαστρον), that I forbear to give the blow to that shall shiver it to pieces, destroy it forever as an alabastron, so that the perfume of my heart (for we do love Him), may spend itself upon Him? Alas! how many of us have the precious spikenard hid away so that there is no perfume but what escapes occasionally by accident as it were! Now alabaster is a precious, beautiful substance, and to the natural man it would seem a pity to break it. He would say, Cannot I find some way of pouring out the ointment and sparing the vase? But, if so, where would be the devotion? (Here let me take any and whatever thing has been holding me back from thorough devotion to Him and shiver it to pieces. Then, all hindrance being removed, all that I have shall be poured out upon that " altogether lovely " One.) Is He not worthy? Has He indeed won my heart?
And I have found that as regards power for service, thorough consecration is everything. The secret of Samson's strength lay in his hair; he was a Nazarite. The Nazarite is a picture of a servant. He was to drink nothing of the vine-we have declined earthly joy; he was to have no razor come upon his head-we are content to appear effeminate, weak, before men; Christ was " crucified through weakness," and we are content to be " weak in Him; " and thirdly, he was not to make himself unclean for his father or mother, etc.-for while we are not to be without natural affection, and the husband is to love the wife even as Christ loved the Church, yet, as regards service, nothing, absolutely nothing, must come in between us and God.
But there is something else, too, here, that is precious to me: What went of the precious ointment, what good did it do? It all went into His grave; all that that devoted heart could give, all that she had (verse 8, ὅ ἔσχεν αὔτη ἐποίησε) was poured upon the head of Him she loved, and if He was buried what she had must be buried with Him. Now the question comes to you and me, beloved brother, are we content thus to waste (in the eyes of the religious world) our devotion? Shall the dearest thing we have share in His death? Shall the power of the cross reach home even to our service? Or (oh poor flickering hearts!) do we want approval from fellow-disciples, do we want soiree reward here, or are we content to await resurrection for it? For we read that the disciples murmured, and said that it was waste, it might better have been bestowed on the poor. But the Lord answered (and here comes out the object of all true service), " The poor ye have always with you, and whensoever ye will ye may do them good, but me ye have not always." A devoted heart has Christ, not man, for its object.
If we are thoroughly devoted we seem to others, as one has before said, misanthropists, but the only philanthropy the servant knows is that of God-the gospel. If we are devoted to Him we stand apart from the world's schemes of " doing good," and serve Christ. For " doing good" is no longer our object, but Him who went into death for us.
When Mary had poured forth the spikenard the house was filled with the perfume indeed, but it was only a small company, a remnant of Israel, that enjoyed it, and not the world. However, it was precious to Christ, and was that not enough? The devoted heart says yes; the religeuse, it might have been sold (Judas sold Christ) and given to the poor.
Again I ask myself the three questions: Have I broken my alabaster? Is it poured on Christ? is fie my object in service? and am I satisfied to be unknown, unhonored of men, to have not their applause but their reproach, and the dearest things of my heart, all I have, to be buried with Him? Surely, fellowship with His crucifixion is what I should covet.
Wherever this gospel was preached this that she did should be told in remembrance of her, for to preach Christ is the pouring out of all in devotion upon Him, which will be an offense to most, but a sweet and precious perfume to Christ. This is the path of true service. Are we prepared to walk in it?
With much love, yours in the Lord Jesus, C. H. B.