Wasteful Worship
Not long ago, my 17-year-old son, an avid guitarist, had been dreaming of buying an electric guitar. It cost well over a $1,000, a price that to his pocketbook was huge. It took him many months of bussing tables to earn that much. But he really wanted it. So we found ourselves driving from our home near Santa Barbara, Calif., to a store in Hollywood to find that very specific guitar.
He bought it, and he was ecstatic. So far so good. What happened next needs to be prefaced by saying that my son loves His Lord very much. He reads his Bible, prays regularly, and is actively involved in sharing his faith and ministering in his church youth group. One evening, as I was preparing to go to bed, my son took me aside.
Can I tell you something?” he said. “Sure,” I replied. I could tell he was deadly earnest about something. He told me that, while he had been praying several days earlier, he had sensed God ask him, “Andrew, how much do you love me?” Again, so far so good. Then he said, “Dad, I took the guitar and smashed it to pieces. I threw it in the trash a few days ago.”
I was stunned. My son had answered the question he sensed God asking him in the best way he knew how. God knew how much he loved that guitar.
I mumbled something about how I understood, but that maybe he could have just given the guitar away, or sold it and used the money for something else. His look told me that I just didn’t get it.
The fact is, I was taken off guard. The extravagant love he exhibited toward God was almost alarming. That should have been a warning sign to me.
Webster’s Dictionary defines extravagant as, “going beyond reasonable limits; excessive or unrestrained.” Ironically, extravagance can be a wonderful thing or a bad thing, depending upon the circumstance. We can consider ourselves to be extravagant if we leave a 25 percent tip at a restaurant or buy a car that is several thousand dollars beyond our budget. While we may be spending more than we think we should, the person on the receiving end is enjoying our extravagance.
That evening, while I pondered my son’s extravagant act, I was reminded of another extravagant act of love. In Matthew 26, Jesus was invited to a supper in His honor at the home of Mary, Martha and Lazarus. Jesus was there, His 12 disciples, Lazarus, Simon, and, of course, Mary and Martha.
During the course of the evening, Mary came up behind a reclining Jesus and brought out an alabaster jar of expensive perfume. We learn in other accounts that the value of this perfume was almost an entire year’s wages. Mary broke the jar and poured the entire contents over Jesus’ body, filling the room with a fragrance that must have been overpowering. While she was doing this, she undid her hair (considered improper) and used it to wipe the perfume over His entire body. The home must have smelled like a Bath and Body Works shop.
Judas took the lead in condemning the act, and the other disciples joined him in a chorus of, “Why this waste?” After all, they reasoned, this perfume could have been sold and the proceeds used to feed many poor people.
Good point. Reasonable. Logical. That would definitely not have been extravagant.
But that’s just the point — and they all missed it. They forgot the really important “why.” Why had Mary felt compelled to lavish such treatment upon Jesus? What kind of love was this?
Interestingly, we’re not told how Lazarus (whom Jesus had raised from the dead) reacted to this event, nor Simon (who was cured of leprosy), nor even Martha (who witnessed her brother’s resurrection). Though the others had great cause to worship Christ extravagantly, it wasn’t them who did, but Mary, whose heart had always been so close to Jesus.
While Mary performed this act of extravagant love, she experienced angry glances, disapproving and patronizing expressions, and lectures about waste. The only one who didn’t lecture her was Jesus. He praised her act. In fact, He said that wherever His gospel was told, so would this act of extravagant love. It only makes sense. God’s extravagant love toward us should prompt the most extravagant response back we can manage — shouldn’t it?
I thought of my son’s extravagance and noticed the similarities. His sacrifice made the gift unusable by anyone, and it cost nearly a year’s salary. There was no Scripture commanding it; it was an act of pure love. And, predictably, the act was mildly criticized by some who discovered it. But, somewhere in heaven, I have a feeling a wonderful celebration took place. I had witnessed a Mary-esque moment and not recognized it.
It made me ask: how extravagant is my love for Jesus? I wonder, fear actually, that my love for Him is often well within the prescribed boundaries of acceptability. I think Judas would be pleased — and that bothers me. Somewhere, I developed the erroneous idea that my love for Jesus should be a strictly internal affair, carefully contained and measured so it doesn’t bubble out in some embarrassing way.
I had that kind of extravagant love once and, though I dearly love my Lord, it’s been a long time since I’ve done anything that remotely resembles extravagance in my love for Him. I’m not proud of that, but it’s true.
I’ll admit that I am afraid of extravagance, how it might appear to others, how it might be perceived. But true acts of extravagant love toward Jesus (which can come in many different forms) will rarely be understood by others — and will often be promptly criticized. There will always be more “reasonable” and “restrained” ways of showing our love for Christ.
But I’m tired of being reasonable and restrained. I’m concerned that I can witness an act of extravagant love toward Jesus and instantly think “waste.” It’s time for me to be extravagant.
I needed a reminder. I needed to wonder at someone’s love for Christ that was so intense that he just couldn’t hold it back. I need to be more like Mary, more like my son who knows far less than me about theology, but who gave me an unforgettable primer about extravagant love for Christ.
Dan Schaeffer (’86) serves as co-pastor of Shoreline Community Church in Santa Barbara, Calif., and as a freelance writer, with seven published books and more than 100 articles. He earned an M.Div. from Talbot. Dan and his wife, Annette, live in Solvang, Calif., and have three children. To see more of Dan’s writings, visit: www.danschaeffer.com.
© Biola University 2005