The Bridge of Abandon

     

           The house was alive with laughter, conversations and the soft clatter of plates and cutlery. A balmy breeze drifted through the open windows, carrying the mingled scents of bread, oil lamps and herbs. The room pulsed with awe and relief. Lazarus had been raised from the dead. The miracle pressed itself into every glance, every whisper and every heartbeat. Outside, Bethany stirred with quiet anticipation for Passover, travellers moving toward Jerusalem, the air humming with expectancy between village and city. (John 12:1–3)

        And yet, amid the celebrations, Mary knelt. An alabaster jar of nard rested in her hands, and she broke it without hesitation. The oil poured over Jesus’ feet, and she wiped it with her hair; the fragrance filling the room with a devotion that could not be contained or measured.

        And Mary? Vulnerable, raw, fully herself, had abandoned every pretence, every calculation and every desire for approval. Her surrender brought her to the end of herself, the place where only Jesus could meet her.

“Then Mary took a pound of very costly oil of spikenard, anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.” 
(John 12:3)

        Was Martha still fidgeting with chores, caught up in practicalities? Uncomfortable with what she could not control? The crowd murmured, curious and confused.

“But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold, and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.’” 
(John 12:4–5)

Judas calculated value, blind to the miracle, seeing coins where there was devotion and judgment where there was faith.

        It was her abandon; her full surrender and her willingness to risk misunderstanding, ridicule, and exposure, that carried her through the realm of unbelief where the others could not follow. This is the bridge every believer has the choice to cross: the place where fear meets faith, where calculation falls away, and where the heart lays itself bare. Across this bridge, healing begins, burdens are cast down and intimacy with Christ opens fully. It is where the yoke becomes light and freedom in fear is realized.

“ But Jesus said, “Let her alone; she has kept this for the day of My burial.’” 
(John 12:7)

Jesus honoured and protected Mary’s devotion. “Leave her alone,” He said, silencing the murmurs and guarding what was sacred. Psalm 91 echoes here: 

“He who dwells in the secret place of the Most High shall abide under the shadow of the Almighty. I will say of the Lord, “He is my refuge and my fortress; My God, in Him I will trust.”” 
(Psalm 91:1–2)

Her intimacy, her vulnerability and her worship; shielded from criticism, safeguarded from misunderstanding, and preserved in His sight.

        Judas’ condemnation reveals his heart. He measured faith in coins and not in surrender; he saw cost and not devotion. Scripture shows his failure. A man incapable of crossing the bridge Mary had crossed, blind to what faith truly requires. Where Mary abandoned herself, he betrayed his Saviour. Where she surrendered fully, he remained chained to calculation and self-interest. In Judas’ measure, Jesus was worth thirty denarii, and but to Mary, her treasure of three hundred denarii was worthless unless her Saviour had received it.

        Yet his judgment held no power over her offering. Mary’s devotion could not be measured or diminished by human eyes. Her jar was more than perfume. It was her story, her courage, and her survival. She had chosen to abandon fear, self-interest, and pretence. Her worship, costly and intimate, opened the space for protection, healing, and restoration that only Christ could give.

        Jesus assures us that He is our safety, honour and defender, especially when our devotion and worship are costly and misunderstood.

        Mary broke the jar. She had crossed the bridge. She worshiped. And Jesus called it beautiful. The perfume from the crushed nard, stored in the stone jar and broken in surrender, was prophetic. What is crushed and broken, when surrendered fully, yields life, healing, and fragrance that fills the room. Mary’s act of abandonment released intimacy, protection and restoration that only He can give. Just as Jesus’ body would be broken to redeem the world.

As Isaiah foretold, 

“But He was wounded for our transgressions, He was bruised for our iniquities; The chastisement for our peace was upon Him, And by His stripes we are healed.” 
(Isaiah 53:5)

        When we walk through the valley of suffering and carry burdens that leave us feeling raw, and if faith had met the truth that He is faithful, then we come through with hearts still willing to kneel. Those who learn to trust Him and those who have experienced His faithfulness, understand the words He spoke outside Lazarus’ tomb: 

“I am the resurrection and the life. He who believes in Me, though he may die, he shall live”
(John 11:25).

        And at this juncture, we experience the joy that cannot be contained, a freedom that surpasses fear, the kind of intimacy with Christ, that Mary knew. Raw, unmeasured and fully alive. It is in crossing the bridge of abandon that we find this space, where surrender meets His presence, where vulnerability is met with protection, and where the heart learns that He is the one who honours, safeguards and receives what the world cannot comprehend. 

Freedom begins there. Healing begins there. Intimacy begins there.