Mary—or maybe no name—
Moved by gratitude,
Or perhaps a deep awareness
Of her need for a Savior,
Lavishly poured an expensive
Perfume on the Master’s feet.

Undistracted by the voices of men,
Unshaken by the war within,
Undaunted by the Savior’s love,
She poured graciously
And stayed quietly.
Nothing made sense in that moment but this—pouring it all out.

What would it mean for you
To pour it all out?
What do your fears whisper?
When will you close your eyes to them?
When will you break the bottle and let it flow?

©️ Rissih