A Pound of Spikenard
It started with the tears.
Like something - some One had hold of me.
Stronger than any Force I’d ever felt
Yet strangely gentle.
I knew they were having supper in an upstairs room,
John had told my brother.
I ran from my place with the bottle in my hand.
I ran straight to the house as if guided by some One.
I didn’t knock - it was all I could do to slow down -
I just fell at His feet.
Trembling all over I broke the container which
Instantly filled the room with fragrance everyone knew.
I pulled the band from my hair
It fell over the floor.
I began to weep more, trying to do it quietly.
I poured more oil, over His feet and legs, over His head.
My hair became my drying cloth.
I rubbed it over His skin.
I heard Him say, “Leave her alone.”
He knew better than I why I was doing this.
I never stopped weeping....
He touched me gently.
I left still weeping.
He had said, “I am the resurrection and the life..”
And this oil was significant to death
Why had He come this year?
They spread palm branches and shouted praises in one street
And plotted against Him around the corner.
I hadn’t recognized the Spirit of God No matter -
I couldn’t have stopped what I did.
Later I learned that the oil had permeated the air around Him.
Everyone who touched Him carried it.
Soldiers that struck Him or pulled His beard were carriers.
The crown Pilate put on His head took up the fragrance;
The purple robe, the reed in His hand .....the cross
Nicodemus and Joseph both carried the fragrance -
And they sealed it in the tomb
That’s why when we came early that first morning, I noticed it.
That special fragrance.
The tomb was open
He was gone
Now, the weeping began again.
That same sweet Spirit was present.
The gardener came. “Sir,” I began...
The gardener had the fragrance too
“Sir, where have you laid Him?”
I didn’t need to look up.
All I wanted was to touch Him.
He said “No”.
He said, “Go tell”.
“He is risen!
He is risen!
He is Life! ”
I ran with His message, His fragrance, His love and mercy, His Hope, His peace. His kingdom,
Alive in my heart
Joan Clifton Costner
©© 2006 by Joan Clifton Costner
Under His Wings Heavenly Poetry
Joan is a Heavenly Inspirations Author.
This writing may be used in its entirety, with credits in tact,
for non-profit ministering purposes.
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