Love That Begins at His Feet
A Day in the Life
“Then Mary took a pound of very costly oil of spikenard, anointed the feet of Jesus, and wiped His feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the oil.” — John 12:3
I find myself drawn into this scene as though I am standing quietly in the room, watching Mary move with a kind of certainty that the others do not yet understand. There is no hesitation in her actions, no calculation of cost, no concern for appearance. She simply comes to the feet of Jesus. The Greek word used for “anointed” here is ἀλείφω (aleiphō), meaning to smear or rub with oil, often in a deeply personal and intentional way. This is not a distant act of devotion—it is intimate, deliberate, and sacrificial. And as the fragrance fills the house, I cannot help but realize that what we do at the feet of Jesus never remains hidden. It lingers. It spreads. It testifies.
Mary’s posture did not begin in John 12. It was cultivated long before this moment. I remember her in Luke 10, sitting at His feet while Martha was distracted with much serving. “Mary has chosen that good part, which will not be taken away from her” (Luke 10:42). That phrase “good part” comes from the Greek ἀγαθὴν μερίδα (agathēn merida)—the beneficial portion, the thing of lasting value. Mary chose relationship over activity. She chose presence over performance. And now, in John 12, we see the fruit of that choice. Her worship is not forced; it flows naturally from a life that has been shaped by listening, learning, and loving.
I have to ask myself—what kind of relationship am I building with Jesus? Because the way I express my love for Him will always reveal the depth of that relationship. It is possible, as the disciples demonstrated later in John 13, to walk closely with Jesus and still struggle with pride. They argued over who was the greatest, even as He prepared to wash their feet. Their hesitation revealed something about their hearts. Yet Jesus, in an act of stunning humility, took the role of a servant. “If I then, your Lord and Teacher, have washed your feet, you also ought to wash one another’s feet” (John 13:14). What Mary did voluntarily, the disciples would only understand after being confronted by Christ’s example.
There is an insightful observation from Matthew Henry that speaks directly into this moment: “Those who are much in communion with Christ will be much in communion with one another.” Mary’s devotion was not merely emotional; it was relational. She knew Him. And because she knew Him, she recognized the moment. She understood, perhaps more than the others, that something sacred was unfolding. Jesus Himself said, “She has kept this for the day of My burial” (John 12:7). Her act was not only loving—it was prophetic.
I think about how often I can become like Martha, busy with good things, yet missing the better thing. Service is not the enemy, but it must never replace fellowship. The danger is subtle. We can become so involved in doing for Jesus that we neglect being with Him. And when that happens, our service loses its fragrance. It becomes routine rather than reverent. But when we return to His feet—when we listen, when we receive His love—something changes. Our actions begin to carry the aroma of Christ.
The Apostle Paul captures this beautifully in 2 Corinthians 2:15: “For we are to God the fragrance of Christ among those who are being saved and among those who are perishing.” That fragrance is not manufactured; it is absorbed. It comes from proximity. Just as Mary’s act filled the house with the scent of spikenard, our time with Jesus fills our lives with His presence. And others notice. They may not always understand it, but they cannot ignore it.
There is also a cost to this kind of devotion. The oil Mary used was “very costly,” likely worth a year’s wages. Judas was quick to point that out, masking his greed with concern for the poor. But Jesus defended her. True worship will always be misunderstood by those who do not share the same intimacy with Christ. Yet that must not deter us. As A.W. Tozer once wrote, “Worship is no longer worship when it reflects the culture around us more than the Christ within us.” Mary’s worship was not shaped by the expectations of others; it was shaped by her relationship with Jesus.
So I return to the question that lingers in my heart: when was the last time I simply sat at His feet? Not to prepare a message, not to complete a task, but to be with Him. Because it is there, in that quiet place, that love is renewed. It is there that pride is softened, that perspective is restored, and that the desire to serve is rekindled. And when I rise from that place, I carry something with me—a fragrance that speaks of Him.
If my love for Jesus feels distant, if my service feels heavy, the answer is not to try harder. It is to draw closer. The feet of Jesus are still the place where transformation begins. And from that place, everything else flows.
For further reflection on this passage and its meaning, consider this resource: https://www.biblestudytools.com/commentaries/matthew-henry-complete/john/12.html
FEEL FREE TO COMMENT, SUBSCRIBE, AND REPOST, SO OTHERS MAY KNOW