People often mistake church production, the lights and the smoke machines, the big band and PA system and beautifully crafted worship songs played by the best musicians for the presence of God. It’s just not though. Those things can be great at times and playing skillfully is a beautiful offering to the Lord. Being led by an anointed worship leader is a slice of Heaven but the future of worship doesn’t rest in the hands of the clever song writer or the virtuosos who play instruments better than we ever will. It belongs to lovers. The lovers of God whose love is a flame that consumes them. They worship, not because they love little but because they love much - with great passion, authenticity and vulnerability. 

There was one woman who set the bar. She unveiled the truest measure of worship in a frightening moment that people still talk about 2000 years later. Imagine the scene, as the Gospel of Luke beautifully recounts in Luke 7:36-50. 

The air may have been filled with the scent of roasted lamb along with the murmurs and voices of the self-important and the insecure, those grappling for position in the house of Simon the Pharisee. Jesus reclined at the table, His presence there was a weighty thing. The tables were low and people would lean back on pillows. Many people there were sceptical of this young rabbi named Yeshua. 

You’ve felt this before at churches, in restaurants, where ever - people are clamouring for position, here people would have been clamouring to be closer to Jesus. Jealousy and envy everywhere. 

Then she enters. A woman uninvited, unnamed, yet unforgettable. Her passport to the feet of Jesus were her tears and her brokenness. She just barged past everyone in a wild display of brokenness. Her past was a shadow that clung to her, a local prostitute that was curiously recognised by many in the room but what they saw, Jesus looked past and saw the image of God in her. A child of God. Jesus saw his image. Stained and defiled by sin but no less someone made in his image at their core. 

Her heart carried a treasure more precious than gold and more valuable than what she held in her hands. In her hands,  an alabaster jar, its contents a costly perfume, distilled from the rarest blooms, worth a year’s wages to some. To her, a powerful symbol of her love.

I imagine the room quieting as she barges in unannounced and kneels at His feet. Tears fall freely and her crying fills the room. A cascade of repentance and adoration as she washes the dirt from the feet of God. 

No one in the room thought what she was doing was a good idea. Except her creator. 

With people sneering and whispering around her, she tenderly unwraps her hair, her glory, her crown and wipes His feet dry. All the while, the hearts of the people gathered are filling with rage and accusations. 

Finally, the perfume. She breaks the jar, its seal shatters, so do the chains of her sin and shame, and the fragrance erupts, filling the space with an offering so extravagant it gets all over the hecklers and the sceptics so as a result, they all go home carrying the scent of her worship. It gets on everyone. She anoints His feet, her hands trembling not with fear but with the weight of her love. 

Simon recoils, his thoughts a tangled mess of disdain: If this man were a prophet, He would know what kind of woman this is - a sinner. 

But Jesus sees her. He knows her. He loves her. He created her. Jesus also sees Simon, who he also loves deeply but it’s time for Simon to choose. Only God can forgive sins ands Jesus declares her many sins are forgiven in that moment. His voice like balm to her many wounds but it would have completely freaked out the pharisees as he was claiming to be God.

If you’ve met people who have given themselves away in desperation to make food money, it’s tough to see the level of brokenness like in this woman. Many men have used and abused her terribly. She is a shell. 

Simon the Pharisee finishes his argument and complaint only to be rebuked by Jesus. Jesus tells him. You’re forgiven little so you love little. She has been forgiven much and she loves much. 

Her love is BIG. Simon’s is little. 

FAKE WORSHIP

Ananias and Sapphira were 2 people in the book of Acts faking their worship. Giving is worship which they held back and lied about it. Worship is surrender, it means laying it bare - your money, your motives, your mess. Your dignity. Ananias and Sapphira faked it, craving applause while clutching their security. God doesn’t need your cash; He wants your trust. 

When you give, you’re shouting, “You’re enough!”—not hedging bets or padding your ego. Their half-hearted offerings stank of hypocrisy, and God is just not here for the show.

We want Bloom Co, as a church, to always strive for truth over theatre. Bring what you’ve got, not what you pretend to have. All in, no bluff. Worship demands guts, not a mask. God sees the holdback. You can’t fool the One who counts sparrows and stars. No props. Just bring your heart and like that alabaster jar, let it break open. No lies, no games - just the raw, real stuff of worship. 

Ananias and Sapphira remind us: faking is fatal. We all pay something for faking it. The church trembled, not at the penalty, but at the purity of what worship demands. Giving isn’t a tip jar for divine favours; it’s a torch you lift to say, “I’m Yours.” Giving isn’t about the clink of coins - it’s the crash of a life laid down. True worship is surrender. Fire falling on a sacrifice. 

BACK TO THE NAMELESS WOMAN. 

You see it in this story - the bar of worship raised not by skill, not by spectacle, not by well written songs, light shows, fog machines and big production, but by the depth of a heart unbound that dared to love much and to do it publicly no less, regardless of what the people who saw it thought. 

Little love begets little worship, but a love that overflows, reckless and unrestrained, births a song that heaven itself bends to hear.

This is the reformation we crave, the reset our spirits ache for. To love much is no mere sentiment; it is a force unrivalled, a tide that sweeps away the brokenness of ambition and the seduction of influence. It destroys the tall stages erected by men who long to be seen and recognised as great. 

It is mightier than the strongest, grandest powers of this world, for it flows from the very heart of God - He who is Love incarnate. 

Through the cross, Love shamed the principalities, powers and authorities, triumphing over darkness with a victory sealed in blood, yet we often diminish love, underestimating its potency to heal, to free, to transform and to cast out fear. God’s love alone can lift the weight of pride from our shoulders, silence the clamour of comparison, and banish the shadows of fear and insecurity. It is the breath that awakens the soul, the fire that kindles a generation of worshipers anew.

The world chases after the newest melodies, the brightest lights, the grandest stages, but these are all fleeting. Worship will not be reclaimed by the clamour of innovation; it will rise on the wings of God lovers who sing with the simplicity of a heart enthralled by Jesus. 

And to those who feel broken, unworthy, inadequate—know this: God longs to meet you there. He does’t ask for your charisma or your triumphs nor perfection; He seeks your love. 

Worship is a fragrant offering poured out at His feet. It is enough. More than enough so let’s love much because we have been forgiven of much, you and I. Let’s break our jars, spill our tears, and fill the air with the scent of our surrender. 

In the end, it’s not the song we sing, but the love with which we sing it, that will echo through eternity.