Broken and Poured Out
Recently I felt led to reread the accounts of Jesus’ last supper. In both Matthew’s and Mark’s versions, the last supper is in the same chapter as the woman anointing Jesus with perfume. This time when I read them, the parallels between her story and the last supper leaped off the pages.
The woman broke her jar and poured out all of her perfume. She poured out everything that was of value to her—both her past savings and her future earning potential. Breaking her jar effectively eliminated her option of being able to return to keeping any for herself. She gave everything she had—past, present, and future—to Him. Jesus said that people would remember her remarkable love forever.
Then at the last supper, those same words appeared again: Broken and poured out. This time when I read Jesus saying, “Do this in remembrance of me,” I didn’t see him referring just to crackers and grape juice. He was beckoning me to do what He was doing: to be broken and poured out. Go all in. Hold nothing in reserve. Completely relinquish control. That’s what would truly commemorate what Jesus did. Not cherishing a ritual, but being a memorial. To live my life broken and poured out.
I realized He’s been whispering this to me for some time. For years, my husband’s favorite verse has been from John 6. Jesus had just finished teaching, “Eat my flesh. Drink my blood. Live like I’m showing you.” Everyone left—except the Twelve. Verses 68-69 hold Peter’s profound response: “Where else would we go? You’re the Christ.”
So that’s it then. Although I’m still discovering what that looks like, now I have no other options. I must live broken and poured out. And I may be wrong, but I suspect that’s a calling that may apply to all of us.
What would “broken and poured out” look like in your life?