The Perfect Example of a CIA Life:
The Woman with the Jar

She stands there, holding the broken neck of an alabaster jar. The smell of nard, a pure, beautifully fragrant oil floods the room. She’s pouring it on him, on Jesus. The oil runs over his hair, sliding down his face, pooling at his feet. As she pours, it’s as if she’s pouring out herself, everything she has onto him.

The others? Oh, they don’t like it. You can hear it in their muttering. “What a waste,” one of them says. “This could have been sold and given to the poor!”

But Jesus? He doesn’t flinch. He perhaps looked at the woman, really looked at her and says something that still rings out two thousand years later: “She has done a beautiful thing to me…wherever the gospel is proclaimed in the whole world, what she has done will also be told in memory of her.” (Matthew 26).

This woman, unnamed yet unashamed, has more to teach us than we might care to admit. What she did that day wasn’t just an act of devotion. It was a declaration, a line drawn in the sand that says, “Christ is all.”

The perfume, pure nard imported from faraway lands, was worth a small fortune – 300 denarii, nearly a year’s wages. (And, we think our perfumes and colognes are expensive today – wow!). Scholars say it could have been her dowry, her inheritance, or even her life savings. That jar then represented her past, her present, and her future, all sealed up in alabaster. And what did she do with it? She broke it. 

That’s the first lesson, isn’t it? To live a CIA life, a life where Christ is all, you have to break the jar. There’s no dipping a cautious finger into the oil, no measuring out a few drops while keeping the rest safely corked. Following Jesus demands everything. It is full surrender. Your past, your plans, your security, your dreams all poured out on him. And once the jar is broken, there’s no going back.

Let’s be honest. If we had been in that room, most of us would’ve sided with the mutterers. It’s not that they didn’t care about Jesus. It’s just that their logic made sense. Think about what that money could’ve done for the poor, for the ministry, for something more practical than anointing Jesus’ head. Yet, this woman saw something they didn’t. She saw that Jesus was worth more than all the “good” things that jar could have done. She saw that worshiping him, honoring him, surrendering to him in that moment was the most important thing in the world.

Her act challenges us, doesn’t it? How often do we let practicality get in the way of devotion? How often do we hold back from pouring ourselves out for Jesus because it doesn’t make sense, it messes up our plans, it seems like too much, or we’re afraid of what people will think? The woman with the jar didn’t calculate the cost; she embraced it. She didn’t worry about appearances; she only cared about Jesus. And that’s the second lesson: To fully follow Christ, you have to let go of your need to make sense to the world.

Why did Jesus say her story would be told wherever the gospel is preached? It’s not because of the value of the perfume. It’s not even because of the act itself. It’s because her broken jar is a picture of the gospel. Think about it. Just as she broke the jar and poured out its contents, Jesus’ body would soon be broken, his blood poured out for the salvation of the world. Her act of devotion was a foreshadowing of his ultimate sacrifice, a mirror of the love that gives everything without holding back. Her story is told because it shows us what it means to live for Christ. It’s not about the size of the gift or the cost of the sacrifice; it’s about the heart that says, “Jesus, you’re worth it all.”

Here’s the part that stings: most of us aren’t breaking our jars. We’re holding them tight, guarding them like they’re all we have. We keep our time, our energy, our resources sealed up, doling out tiny drops here and there, careful not to empty the jar completely. But the woman with the perfume reminds us that following Jesus isn’t about being so careful. It’s about smashing the jar, pouring out everything we have and trusting that he is enough. And that’s the final lesson. A CIA life isn’t “safe.” It isn’t as practical as we hoped. It’s total, reckless, extravagant devotion to Christ.

As the scent of nard filled that room, the world’s pragmatism collided with heaven’s perspective. What the onlookers saw as waste, Jesus called beautiful. What they dismissed as foolish, he immortalized as faith. Now her story is ours to carry forward. The question is, what will we do with it? Will we keep our jars sealed, clinging to the illusion of control? Or will we shatter them at his feet, pouring out our lives in worship and surrender? Because that’s what this woman teaches us: when Christ is all, the only response is everything. And when you give everything, it’s never waste. It’s true worship.