My Alabaster Jar Has Cheerios Inside, Does Yours?

 

 

 

 

 

Today I’m overwhelmed with an intense longing for heaven.

I can’t wait until this body of sin is done away with, and the tears and pain of this world are erased.

My heart wants to be locked in unity with millions from every tribe and race as we fall on our faces in awe of the Lamb upon the throne.

I’m longing to be face to face with the Savior who shed his own blood for me on that lonely cross 2000 years ago.

I want heaven.

My heart intensely desires it.

I am waiting with expectation.

Oh Jesus, I want to go home.

But I’m not home yet.

Today I’m in a desperate struggle with my flesh, battling the same old laziness, battling the tempter of old, and fighting to keep my head above water. I’m frustrated that I keep falling into the same holes that tripped me up ten years ago, and exhausted from the fight.

I want to be a mom that’s present for my kids, not trapped in a mindless brain fog. I want to be a joyful wife greeting my husband with a kiss, not a crabby wife with a list of problems and a habit of kicking clutter under the rug. My heart wants to dance through the kitchen to worship music. Instead I find myself scrubbing spaghetti stains out of the grout and grumbling about the pencil marks on the wall.

It’s hard to stay fixed on heaven when my eyes are crusted shut with so much dirt and clay.

It’s hard to be a vessel for the Lord when I’m bogged down with decision fatigue from the constant questions my children ask like the one my six-year old is famous for… “Mom, can I have a Thomas the train for my birthday next year?”

I mean, it’s not a bad question Son, but your birthday was last WEEK so it’s a moot point!

Don’t even get me started on how physical exhaustion distracts me from heaven.

After having my fifth baby, she slept so little (and consequently I slept so little) that when I had to muster the strength for outings, I would drive the van and have out of body-type experiences. One hand on my essential cup of coffee, I would round the curve coming out of our driveway and begin my weightless progression. I was a cloud, tethered by frayed strings to a jerky, robotic form that barely followed my commands. As far as studying God’s Word, when I would wearily settle onto the couch and grab my brown leather bible, the words would blur together on the page and moments later I would be asleep. .

But in these years of babies and more babies, my heart still longs for more of Jesus. I don’t want to wait until heaven to experience Him.

But how much of me does He want?

How much can I give to Him, when I feel that I have nothing to offer?

I am reminded as I sit here, that my Jesus is the God of miracles. I offer him dry crumbs, scraped from under the baby’s high chair and He returns it to me as warm, crusty loaves of bread on which I can feast. When I ashamedly offer him the dregs of my lukewarm cup of coffee, He pours back rivers of living water into my soul, with an ocean of grace in the depths.

I hear His gentle voice speaking to me through the story of a woman, a sinner, who gave up her anonymity, her tears, and her most costly possession, her alabaster oil, to Jesus. She came into a Pharisee’s house, and became undone in the presence of love. Weeping at Jesus’ feet, she poured out her soul and her heart and anointed Him with abandon.

When the others at the table criticized her sin, and her “wastefulness”, Jesus commended her outpouring of love. He said these words, “She has done what she could. She has come beforehand to anoint My body for burial. Assuredly, I say to you, wherever this gospel is preached in the whole world, what this woman has done will also be told as a memorial to her.” (Mark 14:8-9)

I hear that same gentle voice remind me today that although the alabaster jar of oil I offer to Jesus has cheerios stuck to the side and dried milk crusted in the bottom, He considers it precious.

Jesus loves the love that I give Him.

He doesn’t measure my productiveness or grumble, like the Pharisees, that I should have used my bible study time to fold another load of laundry. He definitely doesn’t rank me as, “less worthy” of grace when I fall short of my own impossible standard.

In Matthew 25:35-40, Jesus speaks of rewarding those who fed Him when He was hungry, gave Him water when He was thirsty and took Him in when He was a stranger. Jesus commends the ones who clothed Him, cared for Him in sickness, and visited Him in prison. The Bible says that in that moment, the righteous ones will answer with confusion, “Lord, when? When did we do all this to You?”

His answer is, “You loved the smallest and least important. You were loving Me.”

Then Jesus whispers to me, “Dear one, look at the smallest among you. They can’t even reach the faucet to fix their own drinks. Without you, they have no clothes, or food. When they are sick, they desperately need your snuggles, your love, and a cool cloth on their foreheads. When you love your children, you’re really loving me. Care for them, just like you would care for Me, because I’m here with you in this messy house. I’m your source of wisdom and strength when you feel like you are failing. Give me your alabaster jar of oil, for I’m the one who can refill it.”

So with tears pouring from my eyes I speak back to the One who knows me inside and out:

“Jesus, I’m longing for heaven today, but my heart is already home.”

Take a moment:

• Read Mark 14:1-9, Luke 7:36-50 and John 12:1-8. What attitude does the woman in these passages have? What attitudes do the Pharisees have, and what about Jesus’ disciples? How does Jesus’ response expose the root of each one’s attitude?

• What does Jesus say in Luke 7:40-47 about love and forgiveness? How do love and forgiveness intertwine? 

• Write a prayer, or speak to Jesus about how much His love has changed your life.

• If you are still contemplating whether His love is enough for you and your shortcomings, let me just say, He’s enough. Oh the depth of His love! So deep and wide! Ask Him to reveal His heart for you through the readings of these passages. His love is enough Friend. His grace is always enough.
• Listen to this new music by Cameron Moder, “Can I Just Stay Here” and rest your heart and  love on Jesus for a while.