St Margaret's Church Prestwich

Rev Christine preached this sermon on Wednesday 29 July 2026. Here it is for you again:

Friends of Jesus

Isaiah 25:6-9 • Psalm 49 • Hebrews 2:10-15 • John 12:1-8

Today I’d like us to spend a little time with three people who were among Jesus’ closest friends: Martha, Mary and Lazarus.

I’m sure most of us have, or have had, close friends. They are the people we can confide in, who stand beside us through difficult times, who lend a hand when life becomes overwhelming, or simply share a cup of tea and a good chat when we need one.

Friendships like that are precious. I have a little magnet that a friend once gave me which says, “Friends are God’s way of looking after us.” There are several versions of that saying, but I’ve always liked it because it reminds me that God often cares for us through the people he places in our lives.

As we read the Gospels, I can’t help thinking that this was the kind of friendship Jesus enjoyed with Martha, Mary and Lazarus. There was a warmth and ease about their relationship. We are never told exactly how their friendship began, but whenever Jesus came to Bethany, it feels as though he was coming home. Away from the crowds, away from the arguments with the religious leaders, here was a place where he could simply be among friends.

When we arrive at today’s Gospel, Jesus is once again in their home. Martha is serving the meal. Lazarus is reclining at the table with him. Mary kneels at Jesus’ feet with a jar of costly perfume.

It seems such an ordinary family gathering.

Yet we know it is anything but ordinary.

John tells us this happens just six days before the Passover. The road to Jerusalem lies ahead. The shadow of the cross is already falling across Jesus’ path. The authorities are plotting his death.

Yet here, in the home of his friends, there is an oasis of love, gratitude and peace.

Not long before, Martha and Mary had stood beside the tomb of their brother, overwhelmed by grief. Then Jesus had called Lazarus out of that tomb, and death had given way to life.

Today’s Old Testament reading from Isaiah speaks of the day when God will prepare a great feast, swallow up death forever, wipe away every tear and say to his people, “This is our God; we have waited for him.”

Around this table in Bethany, that promise is already beginning to unfold.

Lazarus, once dead, now shares a meal with the One who gave him life. Death has not had the final word. The feast Isaiah imagined is beginning to break into the present through Jesus.

As I reflect on this scene, I notice that each of the three siblings honours Jesus in a different way.

It reminds us that God has created each of us differently. We don’t all worship in the same way, and that’s exactly as it should be.

First, there is Lazarus.

Interestingly, Lazarus doesn’t say a single word.

He simply sits at the table with Jesus.

Yet his very presence speaks volumes.

Only a short time before, he had been dead. Now he is alive because of Jesus. His life itself is a testimony to the power and glory of Christ. He doesn’t need to make a speech. His very existence proclaims who Jesus is.

Sometimes the greatest act of worship is simply to spend time in the presence of Jesus and allow our lives to bear witness to what he has done for us.

We may not all preach sermons, but people notice lives that have been changed by God’s grace. Quiet faithfulness often speaks more loudly than words.

That is beautifully expressed in the hymn:

“Take my life, and let it be consecrated, Lord, to thee.”

Then we have Martha.

Poor Martha has often received unfair criticism. We tend to remember the occasion when she became distracted with serving while Mary sat listening to Jesus.

But this time there is no rebuke.

Her service flows naturally from her love.

She does what she does best. She prepares the meal. She creates a welcoming home. She uses the gifts God has given her to care for others.

And who is to say she wasn’t listening to every conversation around the table while she worked? Anyone who spends their life caring for others becomes remarkably skilled at listening and multitasking!

Martha reminds us that worship isn’t confined to hymns or prayers.

Preparing meals, arranging flowers, cleaning the church, visiting someone who is lonely, making tea after the service, quietly helping behind the scenes—these too become acts of worship when they are offered in love.

Then there is Mary.

Mary takes a jar of pure nard, worth about a year’s wages, and pours it over Jesus’ feet. Then, in an act of extraordinary humility, she wipes his feet with her hair.

She holds nothing back.

She doesn’t calculate the cost.

She doesn’t worry about what anyone else thinks.

She simply gives Jesus her very best.

Perhaps Jesus had already spoken privately to his friends about what lay ahead. Perhaps Mary sensed that his time with them was growing short. Whatever prompted her actions, her worship was wholehearted, vulnerable and extravagant.

John tells us that the fragrance filled the whole house.

What a wonderful picture that is.

A home filled with the fragrance of love.

A family united in devotion to Christ.

And isn’t that what happens when Christ is truly at the centre of our lives? The fragrance doesn’t stop with us. It spreads into our homes, our churches and our communities. Love for Christ has a way of changing the atmosphere wherever it goes.

But Mary’s worship came at a cost.

It cost her a year’s wages.

It cost her her dignity as she knelt before everyone present.

And it attracted criticism.

Judas immediately called it a waste. He disguised his objection as concern for the poor, but John tells us that his real concern was for himself.

How often genuine acts of devotion are misunderstood.

People may question our commitment, our generosity or the time we give to God.

But Mary wasn’t looking at other people.

She was looking at Jesus.

Where Judas saw waste, Mary saw worth.

And Jesus immediately defended her.

He recognised that, whether she fully understood it or not, she was preparing him for his burial.

That links beautifully with our reading from Hebrews, where we are reminded that Jesus came to share fully in our humanity so that, through his own death, he might destroy the power of death and free those who lived in fear of it.

Mary’s perfume points us towards the cross.

Lazarus points us towards the empty tomb.

Together they remind us that love and sacrifice always come before resurrection and hope.

Psalm 49 reminds us that wealth cannot save us. No amount of money can buy life or redeem a soul.

Mary understood something Judas never did.

The perfume was expensive, but Jesus was beyond price.

Some things are simply worth giving everything for.

So what does this scene say to us today?

Perhaps it reminds us that there isn’t just one way to honour Christ.

Some of us are like Lazarus, quietly witnessing through lives transformed by God’s grace.

Some are like Martha, faithfully serving behind the scenes, often unnoticed but deeply valued by God.

Some are like Mary, expressing wholehearted devotion that may even seem extravagant to others.

The Church needs all three.

Jesus doesn’t ask us to become someone else.

He simply invites each of us to offer ourselves as we are, using the gifts he has given us.

He looks for hearts like Mary’s, willing to love without counting the cost.

He looks for hands like Martha’s, ready to serve faithfully.

And he looks for lives like Lazarus’, living testimonies to his grace and resurrection power.

The perfume Mary poured out disappeared from that house long ago.

But the fragrance of her faith still fills the Church today.

May our lives leave behind that same fragrance—the fragrance of faithful service, generous love and deep friendship with Jesus Christ.

And may we live without fear, trusting the One who has conquered death, who wipes away every tear, and who one day will gather us all at his heavenly banquet.

Amen.