John 12:1-8
As we begin in John chapter 12, we enter the last week of Jesus’ life. He’s in a village named Bethany. Bethany was once a quiet village, but now it holds special significance because, in John chapter 11, Jesus raised a man from the dead—Lazarus. This miraculous event was a big deal, and it got all of Israel’s attention. Jesus had been ministering in Israel for three years by this point, and now Lazarus had become famous. Look with me at verse 1:
“Jesus, therefore, six days before the Passover, came to Bethany where Lazarus was, whom Jesus had raised from the dead.”
Curiosity and skepticism were stirring in the village. Here was the man who raises people from the dead, once again in Bethany. Yet there were also rumors of hostility against Jesus, clouding the atmosphere. The disciples knew there was a plot to kill Him, and Jesus Himself had been telling them that He was going to Jerusalem to die. In fact, the disciples had even tried to stop Him from going to Bethany because it was so close to Jerusalem.
Lazarus’ sisters, Mary and Martha, were deeply indebted to Jesus. They loved Him. Their love for Him had deepened as they reflected on Lazarus’ restoration, but now they sensed the growing danger. Jesus was coming to Bethany, closer to Jerusalem and closer to the cross. Jesus knew the hour was near. Within a week, He would give up His life. Yet, every step He took was intentional, deliberate. He was advancing toward His death, toward the cross. In the meantime, He was encouraging those who loved Him.
We see here the disciples. They had been with Jesus for quite some time—three years on the road, living with Him, eating with Him, sharing His life, and serving alongside Him. They had experienced His kindness, His wisdom, and His unwavering patience daily. They had witnessed countless miracles: seeing Him heal the sick, calming storms with a word, raising the dead, and feeding thousands with just a small loaf of bread and a few fish.
Yet they had also seen the growing hostility against Him. Jesus was a threat to the religious establishment of the day. They knew there were plots against Him and even against Lazarus. There was a sharp divide over who Christ was. Who is this Christ? The contrast had become increasingly clear.
Yet, despite the danger, the disciples still followed Him. Many others had left, but the twelve remained. Here they were again, going back to Bethany. As we look at this scene today, we must learn to recognize the worth of Christ. This is so important for the believer. Recognizing Christ’s worth is key.
Recognizing Christ’s worth leads to sacrificial & sincere devotion
Friends, recognizing who Jesus is will lead to a sacrificial life and sincerity in your devotion to Him. I feel very sad for you if you call yourself a Christian here today and Jesus is not everything to you—not everything such that you would sacrifice and give up anything because you see just how worthy He is.
As we see in this scene in Bethany, Jesus is at the house of Lazarus. It says, “So they made Him a supper there, and Martha was serving; but Lazarus was one of those reclining at the table with Him.” They are hosting a dinner in Jesus’ honor. Here we see Lazarus’ sister Martha’s devotion as she serves this dinner.
This isn’t just an ordinary meal or a casual gathering of friends. Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead just months earlier. After traveling back up to Galilee, He has now returned to Bethany. This dinner is in honor of the Lord Jesus. The focus is not simply on a meal but on celebrating His amazing power—His ability to raise Lazarus from the dead.
There’s another occasion recorded in the Gospel of Luke, chapter 10, where Jesus was at the house of Lazarus, and Mary and Martha were there. On that occasion, Martha seemed very focused on the task of serving others, more so than on serving Jesus Himself, the One she was serving. Sometimes, we too can find ourselves so focused on the work we’re doing for the Lord that we lose sight of the Lord Himself, can’t we?
In her frustration in Luke 10, Martha complained to Jesus about the fairness of her doing all the work while her sister Mary sat at His feet in worship. At that time, Martha saw the work as a burden. Serving the Lord—and serving in general—felt heavy. But now, having received her brother back from the dead, her service is a joyful response to her Savior, who loves her dearly.
It’s no longer a burden to serve. We don’t read anything about her complaining that Mary isn’t serving in the same capacity. My friends, that will happen to you when you truly recognize Christ’s worth. When you recognize who He is, what He’s done for you, and how valuable He is, it changes your service to Him.
Serving becomes more joyful as we grow to understand that all the good in my life is because of Him and due to Him I owe my all to Him.
My friends, the church and the Scriptures—it’s all about Christ and Christ alone. Christmas is about Christ and Christ alone. There’s no greater gift you could ever receive than the gift of Christ coming and offering you and me salvation.
Mary serves joyfully. She recognizes what Christ has done, and her devotion is sincere. There’s no complaining in it at all. Then we come to verse 3:
“Mary then took a pound of very costly perfume, of pure nard, and anointed the feet of Jesus and wiped His feet with her hair; and the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.”
This is an extravagant act for a woman to perform. Mary’s act of worship reflects the infinite worth of Christ. Notice what she does. She takes a pound of very costly perfume—pure nard. What is nard? It’s a highly expensive perfume, and we’re told that she has about a pound of it. I did my homework, and that’s about 12 ounces, roughly the size of a soda can. This perfume was highly sought after and incredibly valuable. Later in the story, Judas tells us it was worth about a year’s wages.
So Mary takes this perfume, worth an entire year’s wages, and pours it on Jesus’ feet. This is extravagant. Now, remember: Lazarus had been dead just months before. It’s also very likely that Mary and Martha were unmarried. In ancient culture, a woman needed to be married or have a male family member to provide for her. If Lazarus were to die again, they would have no savings, no 401(k), and no other options.
Jesus once said that a man who divorces his wife forces her to commit adultery. How? Because, in that time, a woman with no one to support her might be forced into prostitution just to survive. Now consider Mary and Martha’s situation. If Lazarus were to die again, they would be entirely dependent on him for sustenance. Yet here is Mary, pouring out what is likely her most valuable possession—this costly perfume worth a year’s wages.
Mary isn’t thinking about her future. She isn’t thinking about the cost. She is willing to make the greatest sacrifice she can in this moment. This wasn’t a last-minute thought. It wasn’t, “Oh, Jesus is here, I think I’ll do this.” No, this was intentional. She knew Jesus was coming. They were hosting a dinner in His honor, and she wanted to give Him the greatest act of love she could think of.
This act is all the more extravagant when you consider her situation. It shows us what it looks like to truly recognize Christ’s infinite worth.
Mary isn’t thinking about her future or the cost at all. She’s willing to make the greatest sacrifice she can in this moment. I don’t believe this was a last-minute decision, something like, “Oh, Jesus is here, I think I’ll do this.” No, this was calculated. She knew Jesus was coming. They were hosting a dinner in His honor, and she wanted to give Him the greatest act of love she could.
Think about how she feels about Jesus. Now think about us. People are willing to make immense sacrifices for relationships, for success, or for material gain—often driven by a euphoric sense of purpose or desire. When we want something badly enough, the desire can become so strong that we’re willing to make immense sacrifices for it. Sacrifices that might seem unreasonable in other contexts suddenly become logical, even necessary.
Consider the sacrifices we make for wealth or career success. Some people sacrifice time with their families, not just to provide for them but to achieve extraordinary income or to prove their worth and success in their profession. Others sacrifice time away from obligations and responsibilities that seem reasonable in order to pursue their goals.
Think about the sacrifices people make in the early stages of a relationship. When someone is “in love,” it often drives them to go to extremes. Friends might say, “You’re being a little nutty,” or, “You’re going too far—be careful.” But in the moment, nothing seems too costly. You might respond, “Do you know who this person is and what they do for me?” Yet, fast-forward four years into marriage, and you don’t often see that same extravagant devotion anymore, do you?
We make sacrifices for things that are tremendously important to us, but those sacrifices are often conditional. They’re bound by our limitations or by the limitations of what we’re pursuing. When relationships end, when success fades, or when material gain proves hollow, the sacrifices we once made suddenly seem empty.
Now consider Christ. Here is Mary, pouring out this costly perfume—a possession of immense value—on His feet. How do you quantify the worth of Christ? Mary is saying, “I can’t. I cannot put a value on how worthy Jesus is.”
We cannot quantify the worth of Christ, therefore no sacrifice we ever make for Him could ever be too great.
Because of who He is, notice also what Mary is doing—she’s putting the perfume on His feet. In a culture where washing feet was reserved for servants, Mary’s sacrifice is an intense display of humility and submission. The person responsible for washing feet in a wealthy household was the lowest-ranking servant. Typically, in a household, water would be provided for guests to wash their feet, since the dusty roads and open footwear made it necessary. If you’ve ever gone camping in sandals, you know how dirty your feet can get.
In wealthy homes, servants would wash guests’ feet as a courtesy. However, in modest homes, the host would simply provide water and a towel, and guests would wash their own feet. Washing someone’s feet was considered beneath most people—a task left to slaves or the lowest in rank. By washing Jesus’ feet, Mary is symbolically placing herself at His service, recognizing His authority and acknowledging His worthiness.
Think about this: Jesus had been very public about His upcoming death, and those closest to Him knew His final hours were approaching. He didn’t have much time left, and He had been vocal about it. In the face of impending loss, our natural response is to cherish every moment and to honor the person we are about to lose.
I’m reminded of my parents when they were on hospice. Thankfully, it didn’t last long—we prayed they wouldn’t be stuck in that condition. But as the time dwindled, I remember cherishing every moment. Even though there were parts of it that were difficult, it didn’t feel burdensome because I was holding on to those final moments. That’s what Mary is doing with Jesus.
He is about to die—He hasn’t hidden this from anyone. She cherishes Him and anoints His feet with this expensive, costly perfume. It’s a sign of honor and devotion, but it’s also a well-known gesture of preparing a body for burial.
She invites us to consider what we regard as most precious in our lives & whether we are willing to lay it at His feet.
The Son of God who loves you and died for you—is not some needy person looking for affection. He didn’t need you at all. He did it out of pure love.
So, I invite you to consider: what are we willing to lay down for Him? You see, until we let go of the opinions of other people, we’re following society, not Christ. Until we are willing to let go of our entitlement, we are treating God as a means to an end, not our ultimate treasure. Until we let go of our self-interest, we are serving ourselves, not the Lord.
Until we let go of our need for control, we cannot trust Christ as Lord over our lives. Until we let go of the pursuit of comfort, we cannot take up our cross and follow Him. Until we let go of bitterness and unforgiveness, we cannot experience the fullness of His grace. Until we let go of our pride, we cannot kneel at His feet in true worship. Until we let go of our fear, we cannot live in the freedom of His love. And until we let go of our plans, we cannot embrace His purpose for our lives.
Are you willing to lay it all down at this moment for Christ? If not, what does that say about your estimation of Him? What does that say about my estimation of Him if I’m not willing to lay everything down for Him? Everything.
My friends, following Christ requires a definitive choice to give up everything that competes for our loyalty and affection to Him. Jesus makes this very clear throughout the New Testament. In Luke 14:33, Jesus says, “So then, none of you can be My disciple who does not give up all his own possessions.” If anything owns you, it stands in the way of your discipleship.
Earlier in the same chapter, Jesus says, “If you love your father or mother, brother or sister, more than Me, you are not worthy to be My disciple.” You see, Jesus abandoned everything for us. He laid down His glory, His comfort, and even His very life to redeem you—to redeem you from your blindness and your lostness.
Mary’s act affected not only Jesus, but everyone present as the house was filled with the fragrance.
They all knew what was being done. Devotion like Mary’s often seems irrational to people, doesn’t it? Those looking from the outside see only waste, not worth. Yet we, the church, are the fragrance of Christ to a lost world.
Paul uses this illustration in 2 Corinthians 2:15: “We are the fragrance of Christ to God among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” He’s talking about lost people. The Christian’s life is meant to be a fragrance of who Christ is. He continues in verse 16, “To one, an aroma from death to death; to the other, an aroma from life to life.”
Is your life fragrant with the scent of Christ? That will tell you how valuable He is to you. How worthy is He in your own eyes? How do you esteem His worth? Or is He just a tool—just a means to bring you comfort as you approach the time when your life will expire? Is He just a tool you call upon when life gets hard? What is it about Him? Do you recognize the worth of this Christ?
Consider this: all your Christmas presents are going to come and go. I guarantee you won’t value them the same way the day after Christmas as you do on Christmas Day. Your loved ones will move on—some will leave you, and some will die. Your job will come to an end, and one day you won’t derive the same satisfaction from it that you do now. Life is so brief, isn’t it?
And yet, how offensive we are to God. How despicable, ungrateful, easily distracted, and difficult to train we are. Yet He still came. He still came to Earth. We didn’t deserve Him to come here. He came because, without Him, we would be lost for all eternity. We are so blind to the most important things in life, yet He came because He loves you. Mary understood this. She saw it clearly. But not everyone caught it. Some looked at her act and saw only waste. They didn’t see the worth.
Worldly priorities blind us to the infinite worth of Christ
If you don’t get it—if you don’t understand why I’m so passionate about this—then you’re blind! Blind to the worth of Christ. You’re blind because of misplaced priorities, or perhaps because you’ve never truly known Him. Here we see a picture of a man, one of Jesus’ twelve, Judas. Jesus had already identified him as a devil. Judas is always spoken of in negative terms in Scripture, and as far as I can tell, this is the only time Judas speaks in the New Testament. Look at verse 4: “But Judas Iscariot, one of His disciples, who was intending to betray Him, said, ‘Why was this perfume not sold for 300 denarii and given to the poor?’”
That 300 denarii—that’s a year’s wages. Here Judas is, interrupting what Mary is doing, revealing the blindness of his heart to the infinite worth of Christ and his disregard for the sacredness of the moment. This moment was sacred for Mary, and I’d argue for all the disciples as well. Yet Judas interrupts it because he doesn’t get it. Instead of being moved by Mary’s worship, Judas critiques it. His focus is entirely on the monetary value of the perfume, and it blinds him to the spiritual significance of the moment. He is utterly disconnected from what is happening in the room.
Imagine this: a young man proposes to a woman, and instead of celebrating with them, you interrupt to critique the cost of the engagement ring. What does that do to the moment? It completely disrupts it. That’s what Judas does here. He chooses to disrupt Mary’s act of love and reverence with a complaint that is entirely out of place. His words are disjointed, inappropriate, and unacceptable.
How often do we do the same thing in church? When our primary concern is the clock or the style of the music, it’s as though we’re standing in the room with Mary and Jesus, missing the fragrance of her devotion because we’re too distracted by something irreverent. How many of us struggle, even now, to grasp the worth of Christ?
What’s interesting is that Judas stirred up a protest. Matthew 26:8 tells us that even the other disciples joined in with him. Once Judas questioned Mary’s actions, the other twelve, who genuinely loved Jesus, were temporarily caught up in Judas’ misplaced priorities. They began to agree, saying, “Oh, yeah, that makes sense.” Judas had some kind of influential sway over the other disciples.
He was the one who held the money box—why do you think that was? Because they trusted him. He had cultivated a reputation for responsibility and even righteousness. Among the disciples, he wasn’t seen as a sinister character in that moment. But Judas’ priorities were entirely out of alignment.
My friends, a church leader with a charismatic personality but misguided priorities can lead a church to focus on secondary concerns—social issues, programs, or anything else—at the expense of Christ-centered worship. And Christ-centered worship is what it’s all about. It’s all about Jesus.
How many times have we, like Judas, caused someone else’s focus to shift away from Jesus during a worship service? Have you ever pulled your neighbor’s attention away from worship with a question or comment that had nothing to do with Jesus? Do we realize the weight of that kind of interruption? When we turn someone else’s attention away from the Lord, we’re stealing something sacred from them.
Moments when our hearts are captured by Jesus seem so rare and precious. How dare I steal that from someone else? As we continue in worship today, I challenge you: put your phone away. Save your conversations for after the service. Use this time to direct your attention fully to the One who loves you, who gave Himself for you.
As you can see, this passage has deeply stirred me this week. But let’s return to Judas. John tells us why Judas made his comment. He didn’t care about the poor. Verse 6 says, “Now he said this, not because he was concerned about the poor, but because he was a thief, and as he had the money box, he used to pilfer what was put into it.” John likely learned this after Jesus’ resurrection, realizing Judas’ true motives.
Notice that Judas stayed close to Jesus outwardly, but his heart was far from Him. Judas didn’t love Jesus—he loved money. To Judas, Jesus was just a tool to get what he really wanted. Judas joined Jesus’ ministry with expectations of power, influence, and possibly financial reward. But when it became clear that Jesus’ path was leading to suffering and sacrifice rather than worldly success, Judas’ priorities and loyalty shifted.
Suffering is a part of the Christian life. Perhaps Judas rationalized, “I’ve given so much; I deserve this.” Or maybe he thought, “It’s just a small compromise—no harm done.” Maybe he twisted his reasoning even further, convincing himself, “This will actually help Jesus’ mission.” Or perhaps he thought, “If I don’t take it, someone else will.”
My friends, when we start calling selfishness “self-care,” or dishonesty “strategy,” we begin to rationalize our sin into virtue. And when we do, we lose sight of the One who gives us everything we need. To Judas, Jesus was just a stepping stone—a means to an end. What Judas truly valued was material wealth, influence, and power.
Until you abandon the idea that God owes you a great life or that you deserve success, you cannot be a disciple.
Jesus must be your everything, or you cannot be His disciple. He repeatedly warns that following Him involves suffering, sacrifice, and self-denial. In Luke 9:23, Jesus tells His disciples, “If anyone wishes to come after Me, he must deny himself, and take up his cross daily, and follow Me.”
During this moment, as Judas rudely interrupts Mary’s act of worship, the Lord steps in. Look at verses 7 and 8, where we see Jesus respond: “Therefore Jesus said, ‘Let her alone, so that she may keep it for the day of My burial. For you always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me.’”
Jesus gives three reasons why Judas must leave her alone. First, He says that her act of devotion is in preparation for His burial. Second, He reminds Judas that caring for the poor is a constant opportunity, but His physical presence with them is not. My friends, when you have those moments where you recognize Christ for who He truly is, treasure them. These moments are precious, and they should not be dismissed or interrupted by misplaced priorities.
Treasuring Christ compels us to seize the moment of worship
Guys, don’t judge me, okay? I try to be a masculine man, but one of the films I actually like is The Notebook. There’s a scene in that movie that is so touching. The wife, who has Alzheimer’s, suddenly regains her memory. In that moment, the love exchanged between her and her husband is overwhelming. She remembers everything because she had been listening to a story about her life, but she didn’t realize it was her story until that moment. When he tells her, she finally gets it.
That moment is priceless, isn’t it? Those moments when we “get it,” when the truth or beauty of something becomes clear, are rare and precious. That’s what it’s like when you recognize who Jesus is. Seize those moments. When you get it—when you truly see Christ’s worth—seize the opportunity to give everything.
Jesus tells Judas, “Leave her alone.” He emphasizes that His physical presence on earth is temporary. He won’t always be there. Mary recognizes the preciousness of this fleeting moment, and she responds with a lavish act of devotion. She seizes the opportunity to honor Him. Judas, in contrast, fails to grasp the unique and irreplaceable nature of being with Jesus in the flesh. His focus on material concerns blinds him to the spiritual treasure sitting right in front of him.
Seize the moment when you recognize Christ. Don’t let it be polluted by thoughts of this world. Seize the moment to repent, saying, “I’m not walking out of this room without getting my life right with Him.” Whether you succeed in following Him perfectly after this moment or not, make the decision right now.
Notice that Jesus isn’t dismissing the importance of caring for the poor. Jesus loved the poor. No one cared more deeply or showed more compassion toward the needy than Jesus. But He rebukes Judas for using concern for the poor as a hypocritical pretense to criticize Mary’s act of worship. Judas’ complaint is misplaced. Jesus responds, “You always have the poor with you, but you do not always have Me.” He’s pointing out the uniqueness of this moment. Mary recognizes this, and she responds appropriately.
Finally, Jesus connects Mary’s act of anointing His feet with His burial. She understands, at least in part, the deeper significance of what lies ahead.
Jesus acknowledges that Mary understands, at least in part, the deeper significance of His mission—that He is going to die and be buried. This moment of anointing is just days before His crucifixion. Think about what Jesus is doing for Mary here.
Jesus told Mary and Martha in John 11, “I am the resurrection and the life.” At that time, their brother Lazarus was dead, lying in the grave. Yet Jesus brought him back to life, restoring their family. But in a few short days, Mary is going to see the Resurrection and the Life—Jesus Himself—lying dead in a tomb. His lifeless body will shatter her world.
Jesus says to Judas, “Leave her alone. She needs this moment.” He knows that in just a few days, Mary’s faith will be shaken to its core. She will stand by His tomb, grappling with the dissonance between the joy she felt when her brother was raised and the sight of her Lord’s death. Her faith in His power will need to carry her through the devastation. Jesus is allowing her this moment of intimate worship to strengthen her for what lies ahead.
Conclusion
Wouldn’t it change our perspective of Christmas Day if some of us received the most horrible news today? My friends, we’ve already received that news—we just don’t always live with it in our minds. The horrible news is this: we are all going to die. God owns us, and judgment is coming.
But is God love? Of course He is. Why do I always talk about judgment? Because love hates the things that threaten the objects of its love. God is love, and that’s why He came. You and I are lost, facing judgment, and apart from Him doing something we could never do for ourselves, we would be lost for all eternity. So, in His love, God became a man. He lived a perfect life, facing every temptation you’ve ever faced. He knows exactly what that’s like. He can sympathize with you. He has compassion for you. And He willingly went to His death to pay a debt you could never pay.
He died. He was buried. For His disciples, the world went dark—they didn’t know what to make of it. But then He rose again. My friends, He’s coming back. He is coming back. In light of this, is there anything in your life worth keeping out of His hands? Is there really anything so important to you that you would not give it to Him in a moment? He gave it all for you.
We’re going to partake of the Lord’s Supper in a moment, and I’ll ask Matthew to come forward. As we partake, remember that this act is a tribute to Christ. It’s a tribute to Him, the One who is worthy. Think of it as the opening of Mary’s perfume bottle, poured out at His feet, saying, “You are worthy. If only I had more to give, I would pour it out for You.” Friends, if your heart is not in that place, don’t partake. I’m not saying you must be sinless—if that were the case, none of us could ever partake. The question is this: are you, in this moment, recognizing the value He has in your life and desiring to give yourself to Him fully, holding nothing back?
Prayer
Heavenly Father, this has been such a rewarding week in Your Word. Jesus, how could we ever find the words to describe how valuable You are? I confess to You my blindness—my spiritual Alzheimer’s. But oh, how precious are those moments when my heart truly gets it.
I pray, Lord Jesus, that You would awaken hearts here this morning. I pray that Your infinite glory would be caught, even for just a moment, in the hearts of everyone in this room. I pray that all the distractions of life would fall away, like leprosy falling off the healed. That for just a moment, we could seize the infinite worth of who You are. In Your name, Jesus, I pray. Amen.
While Matthew leads us in a song, I’ll be at the front. If you need prayer or need help getting your heart right with God, I am available here.
