I wrote this the other day as i was doing my daily devotions. It made me miss classes and sermons that made the Bible real, and not just "stories". We tend to just read it like its fiction sometimes, and not real people or real events.
I wasn't going to share it, mostly because its not that great. But i figured, why not? I don't think many people read this blog anyway. For those of you who do, enjoy.
Matthew 26: 6-10.
A woman, shy and quiet,
walks into a room full of people, her head down, trying not to attract attention.
She knows she is not wanted here,
that people who do notice her quickly turn away as if looking at her would make them less.
She carries with her a jar,
she hugs it to her body,
trying to cover it with the sleeves of her simple robe,
its a beautiful jar,
if people saw her carrying it they probably would think she stole it from a rich woman.
Because,
looking at her, her hair, clothes and the way she carries herself,
they know she could never afford or deserve such a jar,
and the lovely scent it carries inside is not meant for such a low degraded woman such as herself.
The people know her,
she walks around the same neighborhood as them,
always looking down, never confident enough to look people in the eye.
Murmuring and whispers always follow her were ever she goes,
lovely laughter dies down when ever she enters a room,
and she gets a silent cold treatment, and stares as she walks by.
Men stare her down, from head to toe,
thinking they can intimidate her, she simply keeps walking.
Trying to ignore the burning in her stomach,
because she can only imagine what they are thinking behind their cruel eyes.
She keeps her eyes low, yet eager, searching the crowd, looking for HIM.
the one person she has been looking for.
She has heard of him, he is whispered about also,
he is looked at as an outcast as well, men are intimidated by him yet ridicule him.
Women wont even look at him but are in awe of him
and they have heard hes crazy.
And yet crowds follow him, were ever he goes.
But she knows better.
She has heard the stories of his miracles, of the things he has done.
Though people change them and make them sound like they are fake,
she knows deep in her heart that he is real.
just like the little jar in her hands, so special, yet no one notices.
Then she sees him,
her eyes light up and hope comes to her face.
She cares not what the crowd around him will think,
she pushes her way through,
she can almost touch him.
She reaches out her hand to tap his shoulder,
slowly her courage fades away and her hand stops mere inches from the tattered linen material,
that once was probably white,
but is now a dingy gray from being washed.
Just as she starts to take her hand back,
she feels his eyes turn to her,
the eyes of the crowd follow his line of sight.
everyone is looking at her,
and she just stands there foolishly with her hand outstretched,
the other clasped around the jar.
But the kindness in his eyes, and the so very subtle nod of approval
allow her muscles to work again.
She takes of the lid,
and the scent of fresh clean goodness fills the air,
covering the rank smell of human bodies to close together.
She grabs the jar with shaking hands
and pours a little over his hair, then on his hands and finally on his feet.
She takes a piece of cloth and wipes away the excess from his forehead
as it drips past his ear onto his clothes.
The crowd shifts,
and she realizes what she has done,
her hands tremble as they try to hold onto the jar,
she looks down to the ground as the shouts start in the back of the room,
from the side she entered and moves slowly to were she is.
She can feel the anger of the people,
hear the cries from deep in their throat.
She tries to move out of the way,
but the crowd keeps her in the middle of it all.
Terror comes over her as she is pushed and pulled,
the empty jar falls from her hands and hits the ground with a cracking sound.
He stands up,
the gentleness and peace in his eyes seem to calm the crowd
as he looks out at the masses of people.
He bends over and picks up the jar,
the big piece and each little piece that has broken off.
He takes out a piece of rag and places the pieces in it.
He looks up, the men around him say something to him,
she is now to far away to know what they said,
she strains her ears to hear his reply.
But the crowd just as eager as her to hear his words,
push her back and she hears not what he said.
Near the door now she looks back once more.
The Messiah!
her heart cries out, and she knows her heart is true.
She stands there a moment,
and the crowd follows him to the next place,
to see what other things he will do.
As they all walk away there is a figure, just as tall as she,
she hopes its him, though its just a boy.
In his hands he carries a rag,
a rag covering something, he looks her in the eye,
hands her the package, pauses a moment,
then he too follows the crowd, follows the direction of the noise and dust.
Her hands are trembling and she tries not to drop the package.
She tucks it under the arm and runs away from the noise,
away from the city, out to the field with the big tree.
She hides behind the tree, were no one can see her,
as the sun touches the horizon and turns the sky orange,
she sits on the roots of the tree,
draws her knees to her chest,
takes a deep breath and opens the rags,
she can feel through the material but wants to see it with her own eyes,
the jar.
Small, whole, beautiful.
and in her heart she knows that she too was broken from the harshness of the crowd,
their anger breaking her to pieces,
yet the touch of HIM,
brought her back together: small, whole and beautiful.
There is a 1900 year gap between Paul and Martin Luther King, and now a 55 year gap between Dr King and us now, in this moment of 2011. Goodness how the times have changed, and just as King says in his speech, we have made many advances, though where has it left us morally as a country? Has our moral and spiritual developments kept pace with everything else? 
