When Love Looks Wasteful

By Beth Satterfield

John 12:1–11 (NIV)
Jesus Anointed at Bethany

Six days before the Passover, Jesus came to Bethany, where Lazarus lived, whom Jesus had raised from the dead. Here a dinner was given in Jesus’ honor. Martha served, while Lazarus was among those reclining at the table with him. Then Mary took about a pint of pure nard, an expensive perfume; she poured it on Jesus’ feet and wiped his feet with her hair. And the house was filled with the fragrance of the perfume.

But one of his disciples, Judas Iscariot, who was later to betray him, objected, “Why wasn’t this perfume sold and the money given to the poor? It was worth a year’s wages.” He did not say this because he cared about the poor but because he was a thief; as keeper of the money bag, he used to help himself to what was put into it.

“Leave her alone,” Jesus replied. “It was intended that she should save this perfume for the day of my burial. You will always have the poor among you, but you will not always have me.”

Meanwhile a large crowd of Jews found out that Jesus was there and came, not only because of him but also to see Lazarus, whom he had raised from the dead. So the chief priests made plans to kill Lazarus as well, for on account of him many of the Jews were going over to Jesus and believing in him.

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Although I would prefer to pretend otherwise, if I had been reclining at the table with Jesus in Bethany that night, I might have agreed with Judas.

Even as a new Christ follower, I struggled with this. I understood that Judas’ motives weren’t good, but his argument made sense to me. It seemed logical to sell the nard and feed the poor. Jesus didn’t really need His feet anointed, but there certainly were people who needed food.

And while I’d like to think I would have admired Mary’s act—if I’m honest, I would have been uncomfortable. Respectable women didn’t unbind their hair in public, much less wipe someone’s feet with it.

Her act of love would have felt vulgar and undignified. Wasteful.

I’ve followed Jesus for 29 years now, and it has taken Him far too long to begin changing my heart on this.

Looking at it through a worldly lens, Jesus’ death on the cross looks wasteful, too. Think of all the good He could have done if He had lived just one more year. 

I’m sure the disciples would have agreed with me—it would have seemed so much better to keep Him alive and working here on earth. 

But as Easter shows us, what looks wasteful to us may actually be the very thing that transforms realms. The reality is that Jesus’ suffering—the pouring out of His life—was necessary in ways that we could not even imagine. What it achieved is something we can never fully understand, but we see that while we saw only loss on Good Friday, we see the victory on Easter morning.  

Over time, by asking Jesus to give me His eyes and His heart, I’ve come to understand that the beauty of Mary’s act wasn’t in how much she sacrificed. It wasn’t in the symbolism of the act. And it certainly wasn’t in the value of the nard.

It's the fact that she didn’t see it as a sacrifice. And she didn’t think or care about how it looked to anyone other than Jesus.

Mary poured out her heart from a place of gratitude and abundance. She treasured and trusted Jesus above all else. 

How do we get there?

I really want to follow Mary’s example. But how do we get there? I think we do we she did - she chose what was better. She had spent time listening at the very feet she now anointed. She had seen Jesus at work. She had watched Him call her brother Lazarus back to life with three words. 

While others listened with agendas—arguing about which side they would sit on when He ruled—Mary listened with a receptive heart. She looked past the worldly expectation of a Warrior King and saw the Passover Lamb.

Judas (and the world) measure value by money and power. Mary measured value by love.

This is why Jesus defends her. He isn’t dismissing care for the poor—He is revealing what God has always desired most: a heart fully surrendered. The new covenant is written not on stone, but on human hearts. God is not impressed by appearances or rule-keeping. He desires a relationship. It's not about outcomes, but about intention and motivations. 

Lent invites us to examine what we are holding tightly—where we cling to security, self‑reliance, or appearances; where love feels too costly, too impractical, too wasteful.

As we move toward Good Friday, Mary reminds us that when we pour ourselves out in love for Jesus, we gain far more than we lose. What feels like waste to the world can be the very thing that brings victory in the kingdom of God.

Prayer

Jesus, as we walk toward the cross this Lent, soften our hearts.
Release us from a worldview of scarcity, pride, and self‑reliance.
Make us like Mary—listening at Your feet, unafraid to pour ourselves out in love.
Till the hard places in our hearts and shape us for Your purposes.
Help us to be the good soil that yields a hundred-fold.
And let us see through Your eyes and trust that in Your kingdom, love is never wasted.

Amen.