The Fragrance of Gratitude - Reflections on John 12:1–8
- Pastor Jin
- Apr 5
- 4 min read
At one of our recent Lenten evening gatherings, I invited everyone to write down at least
three things they were thankful to God for during the past week. As I tried to do the exercise myself, I found it surprisingly difficult. Nothing specific came to mind right away. I struggled to put my gratitude into words. Do you ever experience the same challenge?
It made me realize how rarely I take the time to reflect on gratitude in my personal prayer life. Outside of structured moments in worship or when someone directly prompts me, I don’t often pause to name the ways God has blessed me. And yet, gratitude is not only an important spiritual practice—it’s foundational to a faithful life.
Gratitude can mean many things to many people. Psychologist Robert Emmons notes that gratitude can be understood as an emotion, an attitude, a virtue, a habit, even a coping mechanism. In other words, gratitude isn’t just a feeling; it’s a way of seeing and living.
Interestingly, the English word “thank” shares its roots with the word “think.” The Old
English pancian means “to give thanks” and comes from the same root as þencan, which
means “to think.” This reminds us that thanksgiving often begins with thoughtful reflection. When we take time to think deeply—about life, about grace, about the people around us— gratitude often naturally follows. Without reflection, however, we can lose sight of how much we’ve received. William Law, an Anglican priest and spiritual writer, once said, “A great saint is not one who prays a lot, fasts a lot, or gives much alms, but one who is always thankful.” In other words, it is not religious performance that defines the spiritual life, but a posture of constant gratitude.
That spirit of gratitude is beautifully embodied in today’s Gospel reading from John 12. We find Jesus in the home of Mary, Martha, and Lazarus—just days before His passion. Mary, in an act of profound devotion, pours out a pound of expensive perfume—pure nard—onto Jesus’ feet and wipes them with her hair. This costly act, worth nearly a year’s wages, was not done lightly or carelessly. It was born out of a heart overflowing with thanksgiving.
Mary’s gratitude stemmed from something very specific: Jesus had raised her brother Lazarus from the dead. This wasn’t merely a miracle—it was a moment of divine love and restoration for her family. Mary’s action wasn’t calculated or performative. It came from a deep well of love and gratefulness that she had reflected on over time.
Scholars believe that some time passed between Lazarus’s resurrection and this moment at the dinner table—perhaps a few weeks or even a month. And in that space of time, I imagine Mary thinking again and again about what Jesus had done. The more she remembered, the more her gratitude deepened. When the time finally came, she expressed her thankfulness in the most extravagant and intimate way she could.
Her actions were full of meaning. In ancient times, feet were considered dirty, and washing them was a task usually reserved for the lowliest servant. By using her own hair—a symbol of beauty and dignity in that culture—Mary expressed not only humility but wholehearted devotion. She offered what was most precious to her, not out of obligation, but out of overflowing love.
Many of us might say, “If God did something miraculous like raising someone from the dead in my life, then I would be thankful too!” But notice that Mary’s gratitude didn’t come only from the miracle itself—it came from reflection. She thought, and then she thanked.
What about us? How often do we pause to reflect on what God has done in our lives? We may not have experienced the raising of a loved one, but we have been given breath today. We have received daily bread, moments of peace, forgiveness, grace, and second chances. These, too, are miracles—sometimes quiet and ordinary, but miracles nonetheless. As Mary’s perfume filled the room with its fragrance, so too our gratitude can fill our homes, our churches, and our communities with a sweet aroma that rises to God. When we give thanks not only with our words, but with our actions, our attitudes, and our daily living, we participate in a kind of worship that is deeply pleasing to the Lord. May we, like Mary, become people who do not wait for grand signs to give thanks, but who choose to remember, to reflect, and to respond with humble, joyful hearts. Let us offer our gratitude not as a habit or a ritual, but as a precious gift—one that reflects how deeply we have been loved.
A Prayer of Thanksgiving
Gracious and Loving God,
We come before You with hearts that long to be more thankful—hearts that, like Mary’s,
desire to pour out gratitude not just in words but in action, in devotion, in love.
Lord, we confess that too often we overlook the blessings in our lives. We wait for miracles to stir our thanksgiving, while forgetting that You are always present, always giving, always gracious. Help us to pause, to reflect deeply on Your mercy and grace.
Just as Mary remembered what You had done for her brother Lazarus, may we remember the grace You’ve poured over our families, our health, our church, our very breath today. Teach us to think, so that we may truly thank. Help us to dwell not on what we lack, but on the abundance of what we’ve received—Your love, Your presence, and Your promises. May our gratitude rise to You like the fragrance of Mary’s offering, filling not only our homes, but also the heavens with the aroma of worship.
Give us hearts that see, minds that reflect, and spirits that rejoice in all You have done. Let our lives be living thank-you notes to You, full of humility, love, and reverence.
In the name of the One who is worthy of all honor and praise—our Lord and Savior Jesus Christ—we pray. Amen.
