The Alabaster Box

They whispered when I entered,

their glances sharp as knives—

a woman with a history

unwelcome in their eyes.

But shame had grown too heavy,

and hope was burning wild;

so I carried all I treasured

like a trembling, wayward child.

The alabaster resting

in the cradle of my hands—

my worth, my wounds, my choices,

every “should’ve,” every “can’t.”

I broke it at His footsteps,

let the fragrance fill the air;

and every drop that touched Him

was a piece of my despair.

The murmurs rose around me—

“What waste. What kind of woman?”

But He silenced all their judgment

with a truth I’d long forgotten:

He said my gift was precious,

that my tears were not a sin.

He said He saw the heartache

and the battle fought within.

So I poured out what I couldn’t keep,

released what chained me then—

my past, my fear, my failures,

all the scars I carried then.

And the room grew still with mercy,

as His love restored my soul;

for He takes the broken offerings

and declares them pure and whole.

I left the way I came in,

but I wasn’t who I’d been—

for the One who heard my silent cries

called me daughter, called me friend.

And somewhere in that shattered jar—

in the fragrance rising high—

I found the kind of freedom

that no tear could ever buy.

So now with every sunrise

I bring another part—

a whisper of devotion,

a yielding of my heart.

For all You’ve mended in me,

for every chain undone,

my life becomes the fragrance

of a thankfulness begun.

I pour out praise like oil,

let it spill at Your feet—

no treasure I am holding

is too precious to release.

Where others offered judgment,

You offered me Your hand;

You lifted up the pieces

I thought too small to mend.

So take my breath, my moments,

take all I cannot name—

use every broken chapter

to magnify Your name.

Let worship be the river

that rises from my soul;

let gratitude be incense

that only You behold.

For You remembered mercy

when all I knew was shame;

You called me from the shadows,

and You spoke my true name.

So here I am, surrendered—

my heart, my song, my all.

If loving You is costly,

I will gladly bear the cost.

I’ll break a thousand jars if

that’s what honors You again;

for everything I have now

is a gift from where I’ve been.

And as the fragrance settles,

Your presence fills the air;

my worship is the offering

that says, I know You care.

Take every sigh and heartbeat,

each hidden tear I’ve cried—

they’re all my alabaster,

and I pour them at Your side.

And when I lift my gaze now,

I tremble at Your throne—

the King who bent to meet me,

who claimed me as His own.

The heavens bow before You,

yet You hear my quiet plea;

the galaxies adore You,

yet You still walk with me.

Holy is Your presence,

a fire I can’t contain;

Your glory wraps around me

like a storm of living flame.

So let my praise be thunder,

let my worship shake the skies;

for You have been my Savior

when every other hope had died.

Almighty God of ages,

the One who was and is—

I fall before Your greatness

and offer all that lives.

My past, my breath, my future,

my triumph and my ache—

they’re Yours to use for glory,

for Your kingdom’s holy sake.

And if eternity had language

to sing what You deserve,

my soul would still fall silent

before worth I cannot serve.

Yet still, You welcome every tear,

each whispered, broken part—

So I pour my life before You,

a burning, yielded heart.

This is my alabaster—

my worship, poured and spilled.

Forever Yours, my King

Forever poured out yet i am filled.