Grace Calls Us to Be — Not to Do

The fragrance filled the house. It was thick and sweet, the unmistakable scent of pure nard — a perfume so costly that one small jar could have fed a family for a year. Mary had just broken it open and poured it on Jesus’ feet. No half-measures, no hesitation — she gave all she had to the One who had given her everything.

Then came the voice that broke the silence, measured and rational. A voice that spoke the language of reason, not love.

“Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor?”

It was the voice of Judas, one of Jesus’ own disciples. He framed his objection in moral language, but Scripture tells us his concern wasn’t out of compassion or regard for the poor; it was calculation.

He kept the money bag, and he knew exactly how much that perfume was worth. To Judas, this was  waste — an act that didn’t make sense. But to Jesus, it was worship — an act that made perfect sense in the language of grace.

“Leave her alone…” Jesus said.

Two ways of seeing

At that table sat two hearts, two minds — the Master and His disciple, one ruled by love, the other by logic. Both saw the same act, but through entirely different eyes.

• Judas saw loss
• Jesus saw love

For Judas, everything had to add up. He lived by an economy of efficiency — give only what you can afford to lose.

Mary, however, lived by the economy of heaven — give because you love, and love doesn’t count the cost.

Her act was not about extravagance; it was about alignment. She sensed what others missed: that Jesus was walking toward His death, and that this was her moment to honour Him — to prepare Him for burial in the only way her heart knew how.

When Grace Looks Wasteful

Grace will often seem wasteful to the calculating mind.

Why forgive someone who doesn’t deserve it?

Why keep loving when love isn’t returned?

Why give what you can’t recover?

Because that’s what grace does. It pours itself out — fully and freely and fills the world with the fragrance of divine love.

Mary wasn’t trying to be noble. She was simply being true to what she knew in her heart. In the presence of perfect love, she could no longer withhold anything.

Judas kept the bag. Mary broke the jar.

The difference between them became the difference between possession and freedom.

Jesus Calls It Worship

Jesus’ response is both protective and prophetic.

“Leave her alone,” He said. “She has kept this for the day of my burial.”

He saw beyond the act itself to the heart behind it.

While Judas was counting coins, Mary was anointing the Christ.

Her love carried the scent of prophecy — the awareness that something holy and terrible was near. She couldn’t stop what was coming, but she could honour the One who was walking into it—And so she did, with what she had; her treasure, her tears, her trust.

Worship is never about perfection. It’s about taking a stand — the willingness to kneel, to pour out, to let love speak louder than reason.

That’s what Mary did. And that’s what Jesus saw.

The Fragrance That Fills the House

John’s Gospel tells us, “The house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.” That line is more than sensory detail — it’s a symbol of what happens when grace is expressed.

True love always leaves a trace.

It changes the atmosphere.

It lingers in places where hearts have been opened and poured out.

When you choose compassion over control, when you serve quietly, when you forgive freely, when you give without counting the cost, you are breaking your own jar — and though the world may call it waste, Heaven calls it worship.

The Final Contrast

Judas left the room that night still holding the bag — heart heavy, intact, untouched. Mary left with empty hands and a heart full of love and light. One had wealth but no wonder. The other had nothing left but love.

“Wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.” — Matthew 26:13

Reflection

In a world obsessed with efficiency, where value is measured in profit, speed, and visible results grace often looks like waste:

Time spent in stillness instead of productivity.

Money given away with no return.

Forgiveness offered again to someone who hurt you.

Kindness shown when no one sees.

But that is the very fragrance of grace — love poured out without agenda. Every act of compassion that seems “wasteful” to the world is a silent declaration that love, not logic, rules the universe.

Mary understood that. Judas didn’t.

And perhaps that’s the simple invitation of her story: to stop calculating and start pouring, because the only things ever truly wasted are the things we keep sealed inside the jar — the love we don’t express.