Presence Over Performance — Mary’s Gift of Worship (Teaching Devotional)

Keeper of the Word
Oct 7
4 min read

Updated: Nov 25

Scripture Reference: John 12:1-8

Today’s Thought: Don’t allow your activity to replace intimacy with Christ.

Teaching Devotional:

We often associate spiritual maturity with activity. Whether it’s setting up Vacation Bible School rooms, delivering meals to the sick, or visiting the shut-ins, we tend to measure our nearness to God by what we do in His name. While these are acts of obedience and love—and Scripture clearly teaches us not to neglect doing good—they can easily become substitutes for a deeper reality. Activity can masquerade as intimacy. We begin to do for God without actually being with God.

This devotional takes us into the heart of that truth by examining a quiet, yet impactful moment in the Gospels—when Mary of Bethany poured out a costly gift at the feet of Jesus. Found in both Mark 14 and John 12, this scene is one of intimacy, costly devotion, and a remarkable understanding of Jesus’ worth that few around her recognized.

In these passages, Jesus is nearing the end of His earthly ministry. Tensions are rising. The shadow of the cross looms large. And yet, in the quiet of a home in Bethany, Mary enters with an alabaster jar—likely worth a year’s wages, perhaps even her future dowry—and without a word, she anoints Jesus. John 12:7, there are those in the party who scold, but Jesus not only defended her but also honored her sacrifice.

This moment isn’t about extravagance for its own sake—it’s about vision. Mary saw Jesus for who He was. She understood, even if imperfectly, that His time was short. Her act was more than generosity—it was worship. It was adoration. It was the outpouring of a soul that had spent time at the Savior’s feet and recognized the immense value of His presence.

There are always two perspectives present when Jesus is in the room—an earthly one and an eternal one. Enter Martha, Mary’s sister, who is also portrayed in other references as one of Jesus’ closest friends. She was focused on service. She was worried about preparing food and hosting well. Her motives were honorable—but her attention was misplaced. She was working for Jesus while missing the opportunity to be with Him. Then there is Judas. On the surface, his complaint in John 12 seems practical: shouldn’t this perfume have been sold and the money given to the poor? But Scripture pulls back the veil. Judas wasn’t motivated by compassion—it was greed. His concern wasn’t for the ministry; it was for control and personal gain.

These contrasting responses raise a question for us: How often do we fall prey to temporal, earthly perspectives in moments that should be moments of adoration?

Sometimes it’s the clock—we’re watching the time, distracted by our schedules. At other times, it’s guilt—we feel unproductive when we’re not doing something tangible. Or perhaps we’ve believed the lie that true worship only happens within the walls of a church building. But Mary wasn’t in the synagogue. She was in her home. And she wasn’t following a liturgy. She was pouring out everything she had in quiet, personal surrender.

She didn’t know the details of Jesus’ future. But she knew who He was to her—her Master, her Redeemer, her Friend. And her worship wasn’t dependent on perfect understanding. It was an act of faith. God used Mary’s devotion to minister to Jesus Himself. Before angels rolled away the stone, before the women came to the tomb with spices, before Joseph of Arimathea claimed His body—Mary had already anointed Him.

Her act of worship was so significant that Jesus said it would be remembered wherever the gospel was preached. That’s astonishing. In a culture where women were often overlooked or dismissed, Mary’s sacrifice was memorialized by the Son of God. No other act during His earthly ministry receives such a statement.

And this is the heart of it: Mary’s offering wasn’t just perfume. It was her future. Culturally, that alabaster jar may have been saved for her wedding day. It symbolized hope, security, and a sense of belonging. In pouring it out, she wasn’t just giving a gift—she was laying down her life. Mary reminds us that true worship always comes at a cost, not out of obligation, but out of love.

Throughout Jesus’ life, worship was a response to His presence. At His birth, angels filled the sky in song. Shepherds left their flocks. Magi traveled far-off distances across deserts and dangers to offer treasures. And now, near the end of His life, Mary kneels quietly and offers all she has.

We are invited into this same rhythm of adoration. Yes, we are called to serve. Jesus Himself healed the sick, fed the hungry, and taught the crowds. But He never neglected personal time with the Father. Even the Son of

God withdrew regularly to pray, to be still, and to commune with the One who sent Him.

So must we.

One of the most sobering truths ever spoken about spiritual warfare comes from a quote by Samuel Chadwick: "Satan dreads nothing but prayer. He fears nothing from prayerless studies, prayerless work, prayerless religion. He laughs at our toil, mocks at our wisdom, but trembles when we pray.”[1]

It is possible to be full of good works—and yet far from Christ. It is possible to lead, teach, plan, and serve while neglecting the stillness that comes from simply sitting at His feet. The picture Jesus gives us through Mary and Martha is not a condemnation of service—it is a reordering of priorities. The goal is not what we accomplish for Him. The goal is Jesus Himself.

When we fail to grasp this, we begin to mirror the world’s culture: one obsessed with productivity, driven by performance, and exhausted by expectations. Even our spiritual lives become task lists. But the Holy Spirit invites us to slow down… to meditate… to listen. "To be still and know. That He is God."

A Closing Thought:

In Isaiah 43, God speaks tenderly to His people: “Because you are precious in My sight and honored, and I love you…” (v. 4). Mary knew that kind of love—not abstract, but personal. She wasn’t ignored or dismissed. She was seen, welcomed, and received.