Wednesday of Holy Week

Now the Passover and the Feast of Unleavened Bread were only two days away, and the chief priests and the teachers of the law were looking for some sly way to arrest Jesus and kill him. “But not during the Feast,” they said, “or the people may riot.”

While he was in Bethany, reclining at the table in the home of a man known as 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.

Some of those present were saying indignantly 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.” And they rebuked her harshly.

“Leave her alone,” said Jesus. “Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, and you can help them any time you want. But you will not always have me. She did what she could, She poured perfume on my body beforehand to prepare for my burial. I tell you the truth, wherever the gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.

Then Judas Iscariot, one of the Twelve, went to the chief priests to betray Jesus to them. They were delighted to hear this and promised to give him money. So he watched for an opportunity to hand him over.

Mark 14:1-11

The room grew still

As she made her way to Jesus

She stumbled through the tears

That make her blind

She felt such pain

Some spoke in anger

Heard folks whisper

There’s no place for her kind

Still on she came

Through the shame that flushed her face

Until at last she knelt before his feet

And though she spoke no words

Everything she said was heard

As she poured her love for the Master

Form her box of alabaster

And I’ve come to pour

My praise on Him like oil

From Mary’s Alabaster Box

Don’t be angry if I wash His feet with my tears

And I dry them with my hair

You weren’t there the night He found me

You did not feel what I felt

When He wrapped His loving arms around me

And you don’t know the cost

Of the oil in my Alabaster Box

I can’t forget the way life used to be

I was a prisoner to the sin that had me bound

And I spent my days

Poured my life without measure

Into a little treasure box

I thought I found

Until the day when Jesus came to me

And healed my soul with the wonder of His touch

So now I’m giving back to Him

All the praise He’s worthy of

I’ve been forgiven and that’s why

I love Him so much

And I’ve come to pour

My praise on Him like oil

From Mary’s Alabaster Box

Don’t be angry if I wash His feet with my tears

And I dry them with my hair

You weren’t there the night He found me

You did not feel what I felt

When He wrapped His loving arms around me

And you don’t know the cost

Of the oil in my Alabaster Box

Written by Janice Sjostran