Wasted

The sound of mingled voices floating around the table is suddenly disrupted by the sharp sound of breaking pottery. You could pierce the silence with a knife. She remembers a few other profound moments of silence: standing beside her brother’s lifeless body in wordless agony, sitting at her Lord’s feet in peaceful adoration. But this silence feels markedly different. It is so saturated with judgement that for a long moment it is nearly impossible to breathe. The potent wave of expensive perfume seems to wake everyone out of their temporary stupor. The silence gives way a current of disapproval, and she instantly feels incredibly exposed and vulnerable. “Wasteful.” “Thoughtless.” “Selfish.” “Probably more than a year’s wages.” The words feel like acid seeping into old wounds, and she desperately wishes she could disappear into thin air like the perfume did just moments ago. 

While reflecting on a year of blogging, I considered many things I could write about for my final post: The value of having brutally honest cheerleaders. The surprisingly difficult art of achieving simplicity. The danger of trying to write anything substantial after 1 a.m. But in the end my mind kept going back to Mary’s encounter with Jesus and His disciples in Mark 14:3-9. Although the practice of putting my writing out into the world exposed many things, the most revealing may have been my personal value system. 

Nearly every month, the start of my blog would look something like this: I would put the girls to bed, curl on the couch under my favourite blanket, and inhale the smell of warm spice cinnamon tea. I would open my laptop, stare at the screen in silence for a moment… and that’s when the voices would inevitably begin. Although my critics were not visible like Mary’s, they certainly felt real.  “Is this a waste of time?” “You should be doing something productive like folding the mountain laundry downstairs.” “What if people disagree?” “WORSE, what if no one bothers to read it?” “Wait, why not just post an incredibly stupid video of a schnauzer dog dancing around in a tutu? It would take a fraction of the time and you would instantly get ten times as many views.” I wish I could say that the voices disappeared over time. Although they were certainly annoying and unwelcome, my inner critics constantly challenged me to examine my motivations and ultimately brought me back to the question: “Where do I pour my most valuable resources?” 

I remember first falling in love with writing as a young child. The pen unlocked a world of limitless possibilities, and I could spend hours filling notebooks  with dramas, romances, mysteries, tragedies, and confusing combinations of all of the above. I rarely considered how much time I was wasting, how little money I would make, or what other people would think. I found a pure and simple joy in discovering and sharing a gift God put inside me. Over the course of writing hundreds of academic papers, thousands of case notes, and millions of emails my relationship to writing slowly changed. Unconsciously, like the guests sitting with Jesus, I began to ask “Why?” If I was going to pour out something as valuable as time and creativity, I needed to see a concrete reward like a grade, paycheck, or sign of approval. 

One day this past summer as I was fighting through significant writer’s block, I went for a walk on my favourite trail through the woods. As if for the first time, I noticed a spider’s web suspended at eye level. As the sun illuminated the delicate strands of silk, it looked like a miniature cathedral, a masterpiece both in engineering and artist design. And suddenly I felt sad that it would likely only last a few hours before being brutally torn apart by a bird or beaten down by a walking stick. And then it hit me. God displays his intelligence, love and creativity in a million ways every day. He knows that countless flowers will get trampled before a single human takes the time to notice them. Millions of beautiful sea creatures will die pointlessly because of human greed.  And yet He continues to POUR love onto the world with His extravagant, intricate and breathtaking creation. 

In his book Garden City, John Mark Comer writes: 

“All of creation’s excellence is an act of generous, creative, self-giving love for the world. A genuine, authentic love of excellence isn’t rooted in greed or narcissism or materialism. It’s rooted in love, for God and others. A desire to serve God and His world well.” 

When I travelled to Belgium, I had the opportunity to explore some old cathedrals that took generations to build. One thing that struck me was how every square inch was covered in ornate detailing, even small sections of the high ceiling that no one would ever see. I sometimes wonder if the medieval craftsmen had to battle their own inner critics. Why spend hours on an intricate mosaic pattern that no one would ever be able to fully appreciate? 

Maybe because God would see it. 

What could it look like to make a regular practice of simply pouring out the gifts God has uniquely put inside each one of us? Would it transform the way we worship, view our time, and spend our energy? My personal experience blogging for just a year was incredibly humbling. I had no idea how much value I put into things like human affirmation and material returns. But it also turned out to be rewarding in many surprising and unexpected ways: Meaningful conversations, a renewed passion to read, deep healing through difficult seasons. Best of all, I rediscovered what it felt like to be that eight year old girl with a pen and paper, completely lost in a magical world of words full of endless possibilities. 

Back to Mary. Standing in the centre of the room, head hung low, surrounded by harsh voices. A year’s wages, literally gone into thin air. What would the King of the universe think of such a temporary and wasteful gift? As He so often does, Jesus meets the words of the critics with a mix of authority and tenderness:

 “Leave her alone. Why are you bothering her? She has done a beautiful thing to me.” (Mark 14:6)

As she hears His voice and slowly absorbs His words, the words of the critics completely lose their power and the silence that follows is profoundly peaceful.