“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied.
— Mary, the village whore. Caught and lined up in front of an angry rock-wielding rifling squad… “Leave her alone.”
— Mary, the selfish lazy one. The guests were coming, the kitchen was cranking. Hustle needed Bustle. And Mary had sat. Sat! at Jesus feet… “Leave her alone.”
— Mary, the foolish floozy. Death was crouching at the door and its sad dissonance brought a heart pounding urgency that no one seemed to sense but her. And Mary emptied her inheritance, her dowry, her heart… on the One who set her free…”Leave her alone.”
— Mary, the honored one, went to His grave to mourn… She was never left alone again.
Everyone has a story. Lazurus had his. Martha had hers. The wino on the corner. The screaming mom. The raging driver. And past the hardbound cover, the story is hard to see.
But GOD looks on the heart. Jesus, the author, the One who knows us and loves us right. where. we’re. at. The One who waits, and reaches, and longs for everyone to finish strong. The One who knows we will all end up at a grave someday.
Will we mourn? Or will we hear His voice as he says our name?
Everyone has a story. And perhaps our only command is to just “Leave them alone.”
Because, sometimes we don’t know, what we think we know, ya know?
Our Life will be judged by Love – and His nail pierced hands alone.
Jesus, thank you for defending me, even in my fallen filth you see me pure. You alone can speak the words that pierce me into a deeper place with you. Help me let you do the same for others. My job is to love, pray and love some more.