It had never occured to me, and i actually like to think i’m pretty smart. But this time, i realized how much of “my” brilliant ideas are God inspired.
I was sitting with 50 other adults in a small room. We had just finished taking communion, and were worshipping and all sitting around on the limited furniture and floor space. And during that worship, Jesus reminded me of the woman who He’d promised would be remembered….
But before i show you what He told me, i’ll update you on this month.
GUYS! I am in EUROPE!
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Yes, unbelievably i am in Europe. I appologize that lately i haven’t really talked a lot about what we’ve actually been doing. It’s hard sometimes when the days all look so much alike, and when they all start blurring together… it makes it hard to share something new.
We are in Serbia now.
Guys, Serbia is SERIOUSLY beautiful! And i just love it. The architecture is so varied and i love love love all the old buildings and the cobbled streets. I love the foods and the atmosphere, the cold weather, and the accents. People are also taller, and more blunt than in asia or even america.
The first morning i was here i went out to breakfast with a teammate, and after enjoying an incredibly delicious breakfast i paid and was preparing to leave when the waiter threw the billet on the table and announce, “Service NOT included!” with great emphasis punctuated by a jabbing finger. Then he walked away.
Basically, he said “You, did not, tip me!” In no uncertain tones.
WOW!
That was shocking…but that kind of bluntness is the norm here and the people are beautiful and desperate for a better life.
Serbia is actually in a pretty impoverished state. People leave as soon as they are able, if they are able. So many people cannot find viable work that during the day it seems as if no one ever works…people are always out and about.
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90% of evangelical churches are north of belgrade, and theres only – maybe – 600 christian believers in belgrade and perhaps about 10,000 in all of Serbia.
That means 0.1% christians in Serbia!
Most Serbians are orthodox, but here that just means they are Serbian. It is a cultural thing, not a personal thing. They merely believe there’s a god and perform the rituals to be a good serbian. They are as “patriotic” about the church as they are about their nation.
To visit a church here is to have the same expertience as visiting a buddist temple in Asia. People are bowing and kissing relics and defacing themselves. They chant, and tenderly touch, and walk backwards out the door, so as not to offend the carvings and paintings shrouded within the high echoing walls bathed in muted light and shadow….
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So what are we doing?
This month my teams ministry is research.
We are on a treasure hunt to find local native run non proffits, or people, who are working on behalf of/with the serbian people in order that we can hear their vision, share our vision, and see if a future team can come, partner with them and volunteer in their organization while they are here!
So far there have been a lot of interesting and God ordained encounters and ways that we have been gathering information!
I will be sharing more about how that has been going and some interesting stories in another blog!
For now, that is what i have to share about that!
ALSO! If you know anyone here in Serbia, or if you have any contact with or know of a nonproffit working here, please pass me that information! We would love any leads other people might have 🙂
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So,
back to my experience that day at the end of our time in Thailand….
I was sitting there, a little weepy…and Jesus showed me something.
This is what He showed me:
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In the middle of a sentence, there was a sharp crack, and suddenly a smell just as sharp filled the room and drowned out the smell of the food still between everyones teeth.
Jesus’ mouth became dry, and he turned slowly. Yes, it was the woman who he’d been aware had been standing behind him for some while. Now she was kneeling beside his feet, weeping.
Bent over in an awkward way, her hands on either side of his feet, she could not even bear to lift her face, and her tears dropped unchecked onto him as she kissed, and kissed, and kissed again – his unwashed feet.
He half sat up, compassion filled him. He had healed her, and her heart – oh her beautiful heart! He felt her heart reaching towards him with gratitude; worship. She wiped his feet with her hair and kissed them, and the broken jar she held clutched in one hand, she lifted it and poured some of the contents on his feet…the smell further filled the room along with deep silence.
She was kneeling now, kissing his feet as her hands smoothed out the drops and the smell enveloped him, rich and thick and warm.
“My daughter,” compassion weld up in him just as strong as the perfume, but her tear streaked face lifted from his feet and she shook her face, tears dripping from her chin. She stood and leaned towards him, “Master, please!” He heard her prayer. He sat up fully, and bent his head.
The perfume cascaded over the top of his head, he felt it sliding over his ears, it filled his beard. The smell was overwhelming his physical senses; dizziness. The bottle emptied, the oils dripping down his neck onto the collar of his garments, running down his chest and back…
He tried to ignore the way he felt everyones judgements raking over him and onto her from the table all around….
Emotion weld up in him and he stayed there for a second,
in her worship.
He knew the cost of this.
He knew what she had done for this.
He took a deep breath and looked up into her face.
Into her pure gratitude.
Thoughts shot past him against her, he turned and looked around at the men at the table.
There was no hiding their thoughts. They were eaking out into cruel expressions.
Jesus lowered his gaze and listened again to Simons judgement. Jesus cleared his throat. Then he addressed his host,
“Simon, I have something to tell you.”
“Tell me, teacher.”
“Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty.
Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more?”
Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.”
“You have judged correctly,” Jesus said. Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”
Then Jesus said to her, “Your sins are forgiven.”
The other guests began to say among themselves, “Who is this who even forgives sins?”
Then Jesus heard his disciples indignant comments. “Why this waste?” and “This perfume could have been sold at a high price and the money given to the poor.”
“Leave her alone,” Jesus turned and looked at them, and with patience he said to them, “Why are you bothering this woman? She has done a beautiful thing to me. The poor you will always have with you, but you will not always have me. When she poured this perfume on my body, she did it to prepare me for burial. Truly I tell you, wherever this gospel is preached throughout the world, what she has done will also be told, in memory of her.”
Jesus said to the woman, “Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
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(Matthew 26:7,Mark 14:3,Luke 7:37)
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So why am i sharing this?
At that moment, in worship, i realized that that expensive perfume/oil would still be permeating Jesus clothes and hair at the time of his execution.
That even as he was dragged from the garden, even as he stood during the entire night, while they accused him, beat him, and discussed their strategies for his death, even as their spit flew into his face,
the smell of her worship clung to him.
Even as they stripped him down,
Even as he was lashed up, helpless for their flogging,
Even as he bent his tired body against the wood, and heaved it onto himself to drag it through the street,
Even as the nails thudded into him,
Even as he hung, jerking on the cross,
her worship clung to him. Filling his senses with its aroma….
