The One Worthy of the Spikenard

There is a story in Scripture I find myself returning to again and again.

It happens in Bethany.

Jesus has come to the home where Martha, Mary, Lazarus and others are gathered with Him. Not long before this, Lazarus had lain in a tomb. Mary and Martha had known the terrible grief of losing their brother, and then they had watched Jesus call him back to life.

Now Lazarus is at the table with Jesus and others. Martha is serving. And Mary comes into the room carrying something precious.

John tells us that she took ‘a pound of very costly oil of spikenard’, anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair.

And then comes this beautiful detail in the account:

“And the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.”
John 12:3 NKJV

It is a small sentence, but I have lingered over it many times.

The fragrance filled the house.

Something costly poured out…

Spikenard was a precious perfume, and John makes a point of telling us that it was very costly.

Judas immediately objected: Why had it not been sold? Why this apparent waste?

He calculated its value at three hundred denarii, a considerable sum. But Jesus did not receive Mary’s act as waste.

He received it and connected what she had done with His coming burial.

Mary may not have understood everything that was about to unfold, but Jesus did. The cross was drawing near. Soon the One sitting at that table would be betrayed, condemned and crucified.

And here, before those events unfolded, was Mary pouring something costly upon Him.

There is something truly and deeply beautiful to me about her posture.

She was not trying to make herself the centre of the room. Instead, she was simply at His feet.

And perhaps that is one of the things I most want to remember about worship.

True worship does not ultimately draw attention to the one bringing the offering.

Instead, it turns our attention toward the One who is worthy to receive it.

Before the spikenard, there was Jesus…

It would be easy to make this story primarily about Mary’s extravagant devotion.

But Mary’s devotion did not begin with Mary.

Before she poured out the perfume, there was Jesus.

Jesus who loved this family.

Jesus who had met Mary in her grief.

Jesus who had wept at Lazarus’ tomb.

Jesus who had called her brother out of death.

And, far greater still, Jesus who was moving steadily toward the cross.

The perfume was costly. But the One upon whom it was poured was about to give something infinitely more costly.

Himself.

Mary’s offering could never compare with His.

Within days, Jesus would willingly lay down His life for sinners. The sinless Son of God would bear our sin upon the cross, die, and rise again so that those who trust in Him might be reconciled to God and receive eternal life.

That changes how I read this story.

The beauty is not simply that Mary gave Jesus something precious.

The greater wonder is that Jesus is worthy of everything she poured out, and infinitely more.

The fragrance was the overflow

I used to think a great deal about that fragrance filling the house.

There is something lovely about imagining it lingering in the rooms long after the perfume had been poured out.

But I want neither the fragrance, nor the vessel, nor even the spikenard to become the point.

The fragrance was simply what followed when something precious was poured out before Christ.

Perhaps there is something here for our own ordinary lives, because much of life does not look particularly remarkable.

There are meals to prepare and dishes to wash. Work to do. People to care for. Scripture read quietly in the morning. Prayers whispered where no one hears. A friend to encourage. A letter to write. A table to set. A responsibility to fulfil faithfully. A temptation to resist. Someone to forgive. A body that needs rest… Another ordinary day in which to walk with God.

We can so easily divide life into things that seem spiritual and things that seem merely ordinary.

But Scripture gives us a much larger vision:

“And whatever you do, do it heartily, as to the Lord and not to men.”
Colossians 3:23, NKJV

The ordinary does not have to be meaningless.

A life offered to Christ can belong wholly to Him.

This isn’t because every ordinary task suddenly feels profound, or that our works earn His favour. We belong to Him by grace, through faith in Christ. But because we belong to Him, even the ordinary places of our lives can become places of faithfulness, obedience, gratitude and worship.

The grand things, the hidden things, the beautiful things, the inconvenient things, the things no one applauds… All of it can be lived before Him.

And so, a garden

That is part of what gave rise to the name The Garden of Spikenard.

This was not because I imagine that I have something extraordinary to pour out, or because the fragrance itself is what matters.

Instead, I think of the Garden as a place to remember that our lives belong before Christ.

A place for Scripture and thoughtful writing, yes, but also for the seemingly small things that make up a life: conversations with family and friends, journals filled quietly over time, nature, simple meals, handwritten letters, reflections gathered along the way, and the ordinary moments through which God continues to shape us.

Some offerings may look significant.

Others may be known only to Him.

But perhaps the question is not whether the offering looks impressive.

Perhaps it is simply: Is it His?

At His feet…

There is another reason Mary’s story feels fitting for the beginning of this Garden.

John 12 is not the only time Scripture shows Mary at Jesus’ feet.

In Luke 10, she sits at His feet and hears His word.

In John 11, in her grief, she falls at His feet.

And in John 12, she comes again to His feet, this time with her costly perfume.

She is at His feet listening, grieving, worshipping.

Different moments. The same place.

At the feet of Jesus.

That is where I hope this Garden will continually lead us back…

Not toward a perfectly curated life.

Not toward a particular aesthetic.

Not toward what we have to offer.

Not toward me.

But toward Christ.

To know Him through His Word.

To delight in Him.

To obey Him.

To bring Him our ordinary days as well as the extraordinary ones.

And to learn, over a lifetime, what it means to love the Lord our God with all that we are.

The Garden will have its writing. There may be photographs, journals, meals, letters, conversations and all sorts of ordinary things gathered here over time.

Perhaps there will even be a little fragrance.

But I hope we never mistake the fragrance for the point.

The heart of the Garden is the One at whose feet the spikenard was poured.

Jesus Christ: The One who loved us and gave Himself for us.

He is worthy of our worship.