The Grand Canyon

Never have I felt as simultaneously small and absolutely gigantic as I did standing here. I remember looking from one side of the canyon to the other, over and over again. Thinking about how vast the sky stretched, and how far i could gaze down and still not see the bottom of the canyon. I was overwhelmed. I just sat there at the edge of the cliff, i could feel the beauty in my veins.

While I was sitting there, I couldn't help but think of psalm 36, which reads: "Your love, Lord, reaches to the heavens, your faithfulness to the skies. Your righteousness is like the highest mountains, your justice like the great deep."

And suddenly the colorful rocks, the clouds, the sun, the seemingly endless cliff I was sitting on, and the parade of color in the sky became even more

Overwhelming.

Astounding.

Paralyzing. 

Vast. 

I looked at the sun and I saw God. 

I looked at the clouds and I saw God.

I looked at the rocks and I saw God.

I saw His love, His faithfulness, His righteousness, and His justice.

His almighty, awesome power shining through the sky onto everything below.

I felt tiny.

I felt huge.

I felt loved. 

"She Did All She Could."

The other day, as i was going through a box of old things in my closet, I found one of my old Bibles.
My very first one actually. The leather's pink and a little torn, 
Anna Marie Lang engraved in silver letters on the front. 
As I opened it up and leafed thorough it's old pages, I found a bookmark.

It read, "She did all she could." -Mark 14:8.

You see, she is someone I want to be like.

She knew Jesus. And her story is in the Bible. It's one of my very favorites. 
When Jesus was in a place called Bethany, as He sat the table in the home of his friend, she came in. 
She held in her hands an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard.
She broke the jar. And she poured the perfume out of the jar onto Jesus' head.

People began whispering. Indignantly, they said to one another, 
"Why this waste of perfume? 
It could have been sold for more than a year's wages 
and the money given to the poor."

They judged her. 
They looked down on her. 
They rebuked her. 
Harshly.

But Jesus looked up at them, and he said, "Leave her alone."

He defended her.

He said, "She has done a beautiful thing to me."

"The poor you will always have with you, 
and you can help them anytime you want. 
But you will not always have me.
She did all she could."

He continued to explain. 
He told them she poured perfume on His body, 
preparing Him for his coming death and burial... 
something only He knew would soon occur. 
He said that wherever the Gospel would be preached, 
her story would be told.. 
through all the world, through all the years to come.

(Based upon Mark 14:1-9)

She was a woman who knew Jesus, and I want to be like her. 
Her story moves me.

She understood something no one else in that room did. 
What she did was sacred, special, and precious. 
Jesus knew that. But the people in the room? They didn't "get it."
But she didn't care. As an act of worship, she anointed Jesus with something precious.

I love her faith. 
Her bravery. 
Her passion for Jesus. 
And how she didn't care what anyone said or thought. 
Just Him.

We don't know much about her. We don't know where she got that perfume, where she lived, or how she possessed the expensive oil. But we do know she possessed something valuable, costly, precious. The perfume was worth much, to her, and even to an onlooker.

I love this story, because I can relate with it. No, I don't own bottles of costly perfume, but because my life and my heart, and your life and your heart, are worth much. And we alone choose and decide how to spend our lives and where to give our hearts.

Like the woman in this story, I chose long ago to give my life, my heart, my time, my love, my worship - to Him. No matter the cost. And I want to continue to do that. 

By giving my life to Him, I'm saying "no" to all else. 
Pouring it out like a costly perfume, 
on His head, 
in worship. 
Trusting Him,
giving my all. 
Because it belongs to Him anyway. 
And because He is the love of my life.

I'm not claiming to be perfect. 

I'm not saying that i don't fall short.
I get lost.
I fail him.
Every day.

But the beauty of His grace is that he continually takes me back,
no matter my shortcomings.
No matter what I've said or done.
Hallelujah. 

Tomorrow I'm a year older.
So I choose to give Him this year,
and the rest of my years. 
The rest of this decade,
every decade after, 
every year He may give me. 

I don't wanna keep it bottled up. 
I choose to pour it out on Him. 
In reckless, passionate worship.

Like a bottle of Chanel no. 5, poured out. 
Wasted, to some it seems. 
Like this woman, 
who poured it out
despite haters, 
despite what anyone thought.
All she saw was Him.

What are you doing with your costly perfume?
Your life? 
Your heart?

My prayer as the clock strikes midnight 
and I open a new chapter of life, 
thankful for a new year, is this:

That I may, in reckless and passionate abandon, 
pour out every last drop of my costly perfume 
as worship to Him. And that someday, just maybe, 
He will say of me -

"She did all she could."

May we, through His grace, pour it all out for Him.