NO MATTER THE COST

by Gloria A.Walker © 2011

Out of the broken places of my life rises the fragrance of my worship.  Even as my arms open like the petals of a rose and drink in His loveliness, I remember from whence I’ve come. I remember my heart as it lay in pieces at the feet of those who said they loved me. I remember my body bent beneath the burdens heaped upon me by the very ones who promised to help me. I vividly remember that dark place where I tried with everything in me to escape in the deep recesses of my mind so I would not feel the pain and disappointment dealt to me, even in the household of faith—the one place where escape should have been possible. I remember lying there with my eyes closed, broken and bloody from the warfare around me that only I could hear, see and feel.

While in that forsaken state, I felt a hand touch my brow and immediately the chaos that was my mind settled into peaceful rest. When I opened my eyes I looked into the eyes of Love as He knelt there beside me. He said, “I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with loving-kindness.  I will build you up again and you will be rebuilt. Again you will take up your tambourines and go out to dance with the joyful” (Jeremiah 31:3-4 NIV). He reached for my hand and placed me on my feet. As I continued to watch Him, I could feel the laughter long dormant rise to surface and spill into the atmosphere around us. He took my other hand and we began to laugh and dance together. As my soul began to heal, He says to me, “Do not let your heart be troubled. Trust in God; trust also in me. In my Father's house are many rooms; if it were not so, I would have told you. I am going there to prepare a place for you. And if I go and prepare a place for you, I will come back and take you to be with me that you also may be where I am” (John 14:1-3 NIV).  In the hands of the Master Potter, I was made into another vessel as it seemed good to Him to make (Jeremiah 18:4).

Today, I heard He is at Simon’s house, the Pharisee they called the “Leper.” He is so close. Everything in me yearns for Him.  How can I be so close to Him and not be with Him.  I get up to run to Him when I remembered the box of alabaster I had put away for a special occasion. What could be more special than honoring Him. I scramble through my things and I find the box. In my excitement I rush to the house of the “Leper.” I get to the door and stop. In my haste I forgot that there would be others there—the very ones who were responsible for my earlier state. I put my hand to the door. It is like I feel something in Him draw me into that space. As the door opens I look into His eyes, already welcoming me. Nothing now can separate me from Him. As I run to Him, I know suddenly that I am in the presence of the King. I break the box and He watches as I begin to pour the oil on His head. His eyes never leave mine. I imagine I’m pouring the fragrance of my love over Him and wonder of all wonders, He receives it. When the last of the oil streams down His face into His beard onto His clothing I am so overwhelmed I fall to the floor. As the pieces of the bottle fall from my hand and scatter across the room, I begin to weep and I see that my tears are falling on His feet. I take the tresses of my hair and begin to wipe them, humbled that He is even allowing me to touch Him. I am so caught up in the moment I forget that others are watching me. It is not until they begin to criticize my act of love that I recall their presence. I feel my spirit begin to pull away to search for a hiding place but He would not let me. He takes up my cause. Even as He begins speaking I see a vision of Him, broken and bloody, and my tears fall all the more. What is this I see? I then hear Him say, “She hath done what she could: she is come aforehand to anoint my body to the burying. Verily I say unto you, Wheresoever this gospel shall be preached throughout the whole world, this also that she hath done shall be spoken of for a memorial of her” (Mark 14:8-9). After validating my love for Him, I leave that place not quite understanding what He meant until much later. 

As I travel back in time to the day He found me in that broken and bloody place, I am remembering His hands.  yea, he is altogether lovely. This is my beloved, and this is my friend” (Song of Solomon 5:16). Even as I revisit that moment, I sense Him enter the room. I feel His embrace and I know that He loves me still. Birthed from the consummation of that love is the gift of laughter bubbling up in me a spring of eternal life. Now He says to me, “Pour them a drink from the spring of life within you. Ease a burden, make someone’s heart light. In this you will honor Me continually.”

Out of the broken places of my life rises the fragrance of my worship.  Every time He makes me aware of His presence, I will fall at His feet. I will wash them with my tears and dry them with my hair. And in that prostrate place, the fragrance of my worship will rise and envelope Him in my love no matter the cost. In this He is well pleased.