Week 2 Thursday — That First Easter... I Was There
Day 11: The Woman with the Alabaster Jar
Day 11: The Woman with the Alabaster Jar
Matthew 26:6-13; Mark 14:3-9
Introduction
She didn’t ask permission.
She didn’t announce what she was about to do. Didn’t explain herself. Didn’t wait for the right moment or the right audience or the right level of approval. She simply walked into a room full of men, broke open the most valuable thing she owned, and poured it all out on Jesus.
The jar was alabaster — a smooth, white stone vessel sealed at the top, designed to preserve its contents. The perfume inside was pure nard, imported from the mountains of northern India. A year’s wages. Some scholars suggest it may have been her dowry — the one possession a woman of that culture carried as her entire financial future.
She broke it. All of it. At once. No saving half for later. No measured, reasonable portion. Everything, at once, on Jesus.
The room went silent. And then the criticism started.
“Why this waste?” the disciples asked. “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.” It was a reasonable objection. Logical. Even compassionate sounding. The kind of response that would get approving nods in most church budget meetings today.
But Jesus stopped them cold.
“Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me.”
Beautiful. Not wasteful. Not excessive. Not irresponsible. Beautiful.
We are far more like the disciples in this story than we are like her. And that’s exactly where we need to sit today.
Scripture
⁶ While Jesus was in Bethany in the home of Simon the Leper, ⁷ a woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table. ⁸ When the disciples saw this, they were indignant. “Why this waste?” they said. ⁹ “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.”
¹⁰ Aware of this, Jesus said to them, “Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. ¹¹ The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me. ¹² When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial. ¹³ Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”
— Matthew 26:6-13 (NIV)
³ While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of Simon the Leper, a woman came with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, made of pure nard. She broke the jar and poured the perfume on his head.
⁴ Some of those present were saying indignantly to one another, “Why this waste of perfume? ⁵ It could have been sold for more than a year’s wages and the money given to the poor.” And they rebuked her harshly.
— Mark 14:3-5 (NIV)
Reflection
The Math That Missed the Point
The disciples weren’t wrong about the numbers. A year’s wages given to the poor would have fed families, clothed children, relieved real suffering. Their objection wasn’t cruel — it was calculated. They ran the math and concluded that there was a better use for what she had just poured out.
But they made a fatal error: they calculated the value of her worship against what it could accomplish rather than who it was for.
That’s the moment they missed her entirely. Because she wasn’t making a ministry decision. She wasn’t weighing the most strategic deployment of her resources. She was responding to Jesus — to who He was, to what He had done, to what He was about to do. She understood something the disciples hadn’t yet grasped: that He was about to go to the cross. That this was her moment. That some things can’t be measured in productivity.
She gave extravagantly because she loved extravagantly. And extravagant love doesn’t calculate.
The disciples looked at the broken jar and saw waste. Jesus looked at it and saw worship. Same act. Completely different eyes.
We Are Like Them
We are the disciples in this story.
We are the ones who watch extravagant devotion and quietly wonder if it’s responsible. Who see someone give sacrificially — their time, their money, their comfort, their entire life’s direction — to Jesus, and feel the instinct to suggest a more balanced approach. A more reasonable level of commitment. A faith that doesn’t cost quite so much or look quite so excessive to the people watching.
We dress it up in wisdom. In stewardship. In concern for sustainability. But underneath it is the same calculation the disciples made: Is this really worth it? Couldn’t that be used for something more practical?
We do it to others and we do it to ourselves. We talk ourselves out of extravagant generosity because the number seems irresponsible. We hold back in worship because letting go completely feels undignified. We keep one hand on our future, our security, our carefully maintained sense of control — because breaking the jar entirely, holding nothing back, feels like too much.
The woman didn’t break half the jar. She didn’t pour a reasonable portion and save the rest for a more appropriate occasion. She broke it completely. Because once you’ve encountered the real Jesus — once you’ve seen who He actually is and what He has actually done — a measured response starts to feel like the only truly unreasonable option.
What would it look like to break the jar? To stop calculating what worship costs and simply pour it all out?
Jesus didn’t just defend her. He honored her with something extraordinary — the promise that her act would be remembered wherever the gospel was preached, for as long as the gospel was preached. The disciples thought she was being wasteful. Jesus said she was being eternal.
Nothing poured out for Jesus is ever wasted. Not one tear. Not one sacrificial gift. Not one moment of extravagant, uncalculated devotion. He sees it all. He calls it beautiful. And He remembers it forever.
We were there in that room, running the numbers, wondering if she’d gone too far. We are there every time we talk ourselves into a more reasonable faith. But the jar was broken. And the fragrance filled the whole house.
Grace Note
“Therefore, I urge you, brothers and sisters, in view of God’s mercy, to offer your bodies as a living sacrifice, holy and pleasing to God — this is your true and proper worship.” — Romans 12:1 (NIV)
Paul says true and proper worship — reasonable worship — is giving everything. Not a portion. Not what’s left after everything else is covered. Everything. The woman with the alabaster jar wasn’t being excessive. She was being perfectly reasonable — her extravagant response was simply proportionate to the love that had been poured out for her first. The disciples thought she’d lost her mind. Paul says she had finally found her heart.
- This is The Way
Prayer Prompt
Jesus,
I confess that I calculate my worship more than I offer it. I hold back — from generosity, from surrender, from the kind of extravagant devotion that might look excessive to the people watching. I’ve listened to the voice that says “this is too much” more than I’ve listened to the love that says “nothing is too much for Him.”
Forgive me for the broken jars I never broke. The offerings I kept reasonable. The moments I chose dignity over devotion, sustainability over sacrifice, the approval of the room over the extravagance of loving You.
I want to be like her. Not reckless — but free. Free enough to stop calculating what following You costs and simply pour. You gave everything for me. You held nothing back. You broke open Your own life so I could have mine.
Help me respond in kind. Not halfway. Not with what’s left over. With everything. Amen.
Response
1. Find Your Unbroken Jar: What is the thing you’ve been holding back from Jesus — the one area where you’ve kept the jar sealed because breaking it feels like too much? It might be financial generosity, a relationship surrender, a career decision, a habit you’ve been unwilling to lay down. Name it. You don’t have to break it today — but stop pretending it isn’t there.
2. Do One Extravagant Thing: The woman’s act was specific, concrete, and costly. Today, do one thing for Jesus that feels slightly excessive — something that the calculating part of you would call wasteful. Give more than is comfortable. Serve longer than is convenient. Worship more openly than feels dignified. Pray more honestly than feels safe. Break something small today. Practice what it feels like to stop calculating.
3. Silence the Room: The disciples rebuked her harshly. Think of someone in your life whose devotion to Jesus you have — even privately — judged as excessive, unbalanced, or irresponsible. Maybe it’s their generosity, their evangelism, their prayer life, their willingness to sacrifice comfort for obedience. Instead of critiquing, honor it. Tell them what you see. Be the voice of Jesus in their life today — “You have done a beautiful thing.”
To read all the posts in this devotional series, visit: That First Easter... I Was There
© Steve Peschke / This Is The Way