Little for Great

She hadn’t asked for attention. I don’t think she thought about herself at all. But Jesus said, “She will be remembered for all of earthly history.” The woman with the alabaster jar who broke it on Jesus’ feet is remembered.

by Brian Jekel

The clink of two little coins was overlooked by many. Hardly heard. Hardly seen. Perhaps scorned by those who did see. But Jesus saw and remembered and recorded it.

The act of service of Peter’s mother-in-law, forever engraved in Holy Scripture.

Mary’s choice to sit at his feet. Now held up as the better thing.

Jesus cast out many demons, but one of the few recorded was from the father who believed and didn’t believe, who came in doubt and trust. This was one Jesus wanted remembered.

Little things. None of them knew that their small decisions would forever resound through the Word, would be retold by preachers, would be heard eventually in every tribe, tongue, and language. None of them wanted attention. None of them were seeing Disciple-of-the-Month awards. Small decisions made by love, gratitude, desperation, hope, trust. They got up that morning, unseen, unnoticed, washed the dishes, went to work. And made little sacrifices, little journeys within their daily context and daily means. And Jesus remembers. He records. He honors.

You get up, and despite the darkness outside, despite a sleeplessness and sing a song of praise. Or a word of thanksgiving for a great night of rest. An alabaster jar, and Jesus remembers.

A decision to give that time when you feel like you don’t have it, to send that card, to make room for a cup of coffee, to say no to something. To pour out strength when there is nothing, to get out of bed when the day seems hopeless, to groan out yet give. Because you love him. Two clinks of a coin and Jesus sees.

To respond naturally in gratitude, with pouring a cup of coffee for a husband who is running out the door and didn’t have time to kiss you or pay attention to you, to take out the trash when no one else is looking and someone else should have done it, just because you are grateful Jesus has given you the strength, the means.

To come with our doubts and agonies. Because you trust. A cry that is recorded.

Jesus remembers. He sees. Our little efforts, small in the eyes of the world. Like little pennies, chipped and scratched from the pavement. But Jesus makes all things holy. Jesus makes all things glorious. He takes that little penny and in his economics, because it was for him, to him, in love of him, in trust of him, it gleams and glows in great glory, a crown to lay at his feet. It is his, given to him, and it is magnified by him—not because it is great, but because he is great.

The daily little things you do are not unseen. Our God is a God who honors the least, the widow, the prostitute, the doubting father, the weak mother-in-law. The great feasts, the great scholars of the day—where are they? Jesus noticed the sparrows, the pennies, the lost coins, the ungreat, the unworthy, the least. Remember and recorded. So too, today, for you, whatever is done for him.

Because he is great and he is worthy.

And the people that Jesus remembers? Ordinary people who had been with Jesus  who changed the world (Acts 4:13). The  paralyzed man who everyone had overlooked for thirty-eight years. The Roman centurion with a sick slave, the enemy and the least of the enemy. A Syro-Phonecian woman, a dog in the world's eyes. These made it into the greatest book ever written, the greatest story ever told. Recorded. Remembered.

Who does Jesus remember? Me. You. Little us. The homeless woman whose teeth are falling out who still calls on Jesus' name. The inmate who met Christ but is still forgotten in the grey echoey halls of prison. The fifty-year-old grocery clerk who had a long day and hasn't been noticed by anyone other than her Father. The woman who had an abortion but not calls on the Lifegiver. The teen with the pink hair who loves Jesus. The soccer mom who looks like any other minivan driver but lets Christ drive her life. The businessman who could get lost in the crowd but who seeks his treasure in heaven. These are the people Jesus records, remembers, speaks of personally before his Father. Not because we're special. Because he is great, and our little is great in him.