There is a moment in Scripture that continues to undo me every time I read it. It’s the story of the woman who slipped quietly into the home of a Pharisee to see Jesus, carrying nothing but an alabaster jar and a heart shattered by both sin and longing. She didn’t come with eloquent prayers. She didn’t come to defend her reputation. She didn’t come for attention.
She came to worship.
Luke 7:36–50 tells us she stood behind Jesus, overwhelmed, her tears spilling onto His feet. With no towel in sight, she did the unthinkable—she let down her hair. In that culture, it was a deeply vulnerable act, almost scandalous. But her worship wasn’t concerned with what anyone else thought. She washed His feet with her tears, dried them with her hair, and anointed Him with costly oil from an alabaster jar.
And tucked inside this moment is a beautiful, mysterious truth:
No one knows the cost of the oil.
Here’s something we need to remember:
People may see your worship, but they do not always see your wounds. They see your praise, but not the private battles that brought you to your knees. They may see your strength, but not the crushing seasons that made God your only refuge. They see your faith, but not the nights you cried until there were no tears left, begging God for healing, restoration, or simply the strength to keep going.
Just like that woman, your offering—your worship, your obedience, your surrender—comes from a place no one else fully understands because they don’t understand its value.
The Pharisee judged her from a distance, muttering in his heart about her past, but Jesus looked at her heart. While others saw a sinner, Jesus saw a daughter. While others saw a disgrace, Jesus saw devotion. While others questioned her presence, Jesus validated her purpose.
And maybe that’s where you find yourself today—misunderstood, unseen, or underestimated. People assume they know your story, your motives, or your journey. They don’t. They can’t. Because only you and God know the private cost of your worship.
Maybe your “oil” is forgiveness that was excruciating to give.
Maybe your “oil” is choosing obedience in an area where everything in you wanted comfort.
Maybe your “oil” is walking away from what once defined you.
Maybe your “oil” is rebuilding your identity after years of being told who you were allowed to be.
Maybe your “oil” is praising God in a season that feels barren.
Whatever the oil represents in your life, its cost is real. It is precious. And Jesus sees it.
This story reminds us that worship isn’t about performance—it’s about gratitude. It flows from knowing the weight of what we’ve been forgiven of, rescued from, healed through, and carried out of. The woman didn’t pour out her oil to earn forgiveness—she poured it because she had encountered forgiveness. She came not to impress but to express her love.
And Jesus honored her in a room full of people who thought she didn’t belong.
He still does that today.
He sees you.
He knows the chapters you’ve never spoken aloud.
He understands the tears you cried in silence.
He recognizes the battles you fought behind closed doors.
And He receives every drop of your oil—every sacrifice, every yes, every act of obedience, every whispered prayer—as worship.
So keep pouring.
Keep worshiping.
Keep loving Jesus with the kind of devotion that doesn’t need applause or approval.
Because no one knows the cost of the oil you pour on Jesus’ feet—but He does. And He calls it beautiful.
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