Hosanna! Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord. John 12:13 (NLT)

Lazarus Rising: A Resurrection Story – Part 1

On Palm Sunday, the week before Easter, Jesus sent two of his disciples to find a donkey. This wasn’t random behaviour.

It was time.

Thirty odd years earlier, the night he was born, His mother Mary had ridden a donkey into Bethlehem. A journey of humility and expectation. And just like his parents all those years ago, so many experiences and prayers had brought him to this place from that moment. The culmination of all his years, teachings and ways, was about to be set in motion. It was time to boldly and humbly reveal who he was.

Just days before, Jesus had raised Lazarus from the dead in front of a large and astonished crowd. Lazarus had been dead for days, all hope was gone. Mary had confronted Jesus, “Lord if you had been here, my brother would not have died.”

Jesus asked them to roll away the stone that sealed Lazarus’s tomb. He was at first met with objections, “the smell will be too much” they said. But Jesus persisted, the tomb was opened, and he called to Lazarus, “Come out”. And he did. Wrapped in grave clothes, carrying no scent of decay, Lazarus walked out from his place of deathly slumber. Jesus, the Messiah, one who opened blind eyes, could raise the dead.

A bright hope at the start of a week that would become deathly dark and shrouded with fear. Lazarus was a prophetic encounter of what was to come.

That night, Jesus, his disciples, Lazarus and his sisters, and more, all gathered to share a meal together. What an incredible night that would have been! As stories of Lazarus ran fast and wide, a tangible expectation rose in the atmosphere.

At some point their meal was interrupted by a woman. She was not invited, no one asked her to come and sit at their table. She walked through the door or maybe pushed her way in, crossed the room, knelt before Jesus, and scandalously anointed his feet with expensive, perfumed oil. She poured it ALL out upon his feet and ankles, sparing none, lavishing her gift generously upon him. As tears fell from her face and mixed in with the oil, she wiped and massaged it into his flesh with her hair.

At his birth, Jesus was given oil by Three Wise Men: Frankincense and Myrrh. Two of the most potent and costly oils one could have. Being anointed with oil held great significance in the ancient Near East. A priest or prophet would anoint someone for a special role, consecrating them to the task. This rich and strongly perfumed oil was thick and melted into the skin, leaving a fragrance that would last for days, if not weeks. Kings were anointed with this oil and wore if often, you could smell them coming.

This is what the anonymous woman anointed Jesus with. He was anointed at birth, and now, although no one knew, he was being anointed for burial. The woman was rebuked by Judas, but Jesus held him back, giving them another hint of what was coming, of what could be felt but not articulated in minds and hearts.

“Let her alone. She’s anticipating and honouring the day of my burial. You always have the poor with you. You won’t always have me.” (John 12).

She was anointing her king. And he smelt like it for days. When they arrested him in the garden; when he was on trial and charged; when they stripped him naked and tortured him almost beyond recognition; when they paraded him through the streets and at dawn and led him out of the city towards the hill of death; when they nailed him to a cross on Golgotha, the sweet scent of kingly fragrance and holy vocation mixed with blood and sweat and tears would have flowed from him strongly and out into the crowd. The sweet mixed with tragedy, beauty with grief, the holy with the horrific.

A fragrant hint and prophecy of what Jesus was redeeming all along.

Go to Part 2 – The Donkey and a New Kind of Temple »

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