Worship

The smell of sweet perfume filled the room. They were sitting next to each other, Lazarus and Jesus. Lazarus' eyes slowly filled with tears as he watched his sister caressing Jesus' feet while she poured more of that perfume on them and wiped his feet with her hair. The room was heavy; heavy like everyone was watching something very private and very awesome. For a fleeting second Lazarus thought of that most holy place. That place in the temple beyond the veil. That place he could never see, only the high priest could go in there once a year. Why did he suddenly think of the holy of holies now, he wondered? It was odd and unthinkable but it seemed their little dining room was that very place... right now. Even Martha, busy Martha who always bustled about making sure everyone's cup was full, she was even sitting now watching this scene unfold.

Worship! That's why he thought of the holy of holies! This was worship! His sister was ministering to the Messiah now and they were all watching. They were all participating with her somehow. Could it be?

Suddenly, like the grating sound of a startled dog barking, somebody broke the silence, the beautiful moment of worship. One of the twelve men who had come to dinner with Jesus said, "Why was this ointment not sold for 300 denarii and the money given to the poor?" The moment of worship, that beautiful time of love and Lazarus' come-out-of-nowhere thoughts about the holy of holies all but evaporated. It felt like he had been rudely shaken from a sweet sleep. The question hung in the air.

Lazarus thought back to all those times he had been in the crowd with Jesus and his twelve disciples. Jesus always taught and told stories. Stories which could make you feel at one moment thrilled with joy and the next naked, exposed and ashamed. Yet he always hung on every word. So did everyone else. Even in those shameful moments he always wanted...needed to hear more. There was an undercurrent of hope in everything he said. But always someone would ask him a prickly question. It was usually one of the intelligent ones, like the leaders. Now it was one of his own followers.

Lazarus studied the face of the man who asked the question. He couldn't keep all of their names straight. He thought this one was called Judas. Often it was Peter who came out with stupid remarks - things Lazarus may have thought but would never say. This question from Judas though, this one was painful.

Lazarus looked at Jesus. His eyes were still on Mary. He looked sad. Mary's head was turned and Lazarus couldn't see his sister's eyes yet he felt embarrassed for her. He supposed Judas was right. It would have been wiser to do as he proposed. So many poor....so many needs. And Jesus was always helping them. Yes, it would have been better to sell the expensive ointment and help the poor.

Lazarus looked back at Jesus just as he raised his eyes to address Judas. Briefly, only for a second, Lazarus caught a flash of something strange in Jesus' eyes. Was it anger? Jesus spoke softly but strongly, "Leave her alone. She intended to keep this for the day of my burial." Burial? What does this mean? Will Jesus die? Will the very one who raised him from death and decay lay in a grave? Wait...he was still speaking. "The poor you always have with you, but you do not always have me."

Fear crept into Lazarus' heart as he thought about these words. He suddenly knew Jesus would indeed die and he felt like it might be soon. That's why the sadness and this talk about burial. But his friend didn't seem fearful as he looked down again at Mary. A tender smile appeared on Jesus' lips. Here it was again. That sense of worship, all of them in the holiest of places, awestruck before the mercy seat. Lazarus no longer concerned himself with where his thoughts were coming from. He closed his eyes and worshiped, drinking in this sweet moment.

After awhile he glanced at his friend again and now Jesus looked like the weight of the world was on his shoulders. What might be going through Jesus' mind right now? Lazarus glanced at John, on the other side of Jesus, and watched him move closer. Slowly John's head fell until it rested on Jesus' shoulder. Lazarus did the same. He looked around and glimpsed Peter pacing the room, Martha was openly sobbing and most of the others' eyes were filled with tears. Lazarus felt confusion about Jesus' words but he no longer felt fear. It was gone and in it's place he felt a weighty and deep peace. He knew, as daring as it was to think this way, that he was in the presence of God. And he would worship him forever. Come what may and regardless of the cost he was safe with his Lord whom he loved.