Life is full of storms—cultural, economic, and personal—that can leave us feeling tossed about and unsteady. In these moments, it’s not enough to simply hold on to what feels safe or familiar. We need anchors: God’s unchanging character, His promises, and the hope He offers. But the Christian journey doesn’t end with being anchored; it calls us to step out in faith, to lay down what is precious to us on the altar, and to trust God with both our security and our sacrifice.
Anchors keep us from drifting, but altars invite us to surrender. God invites us to move beyond the safety of the harbor, to trust Him not only with our stability but also with our willingness to let go. When we surrender what we value most, we discover that God is both our anchor and our safe place, even when the winds are strong.
“We have this as a sure and steadfast anchor of the soul, a hope that enters into the inner place behind the curtain, where Jesus has gone as a forerunner on our behalf…” (Hebrews 6:19-20a, ESV)
Reflection: What is one area of your life where you are clinging to safety or control? How might God be inviting you to both anchor yourself in Him and surrender this area to His care today?
True worship is not measured by what is easy or convenient, but by what costs us something. The story of the woman with the alabaster jar reminds us that love for God is shown in our willingness to give what is most precious—our time, our resources, our reputation. When we offer God our best, not out of obligation but out of love, we declare His worth above all else.
Sacrifice is not about loss for its own sake, but about placing God at the center of our lives. As we lay down what matters most to us, our hearts are changed. Costly worship transforms us, drawing us closer to God and shaping us into people who reflect His love and generosity.
“And David said to Araunah, ‘No, but I will buy it from you for a price. I will not offer burnt offerings to the LORD my God that cost me nothing.’ So David bought the threshing floor and the oxen for fifty shekels of silver.” (2 Samuel 24:24, ESV)
Reflection: What is something valuable to you—time, money, comfort, reputation—that you sense God is asking you to offer as an act of worship this week?
Extravagant devotion to Jesus will often provoke criticism, sometimes even from those closest to us. The fear of being misunderstood or seen as “too much” can keep us from wholehearted worship. Yet, the example of the woman with the alabaster jar shows us that it is better to be remembered for loving Jesus extravagantly than for playing it safe.
When we choose to honor Christ above the opinions of others, we draw nearer to Him and inspire others to do the same. Costly worship may bring embarrassment or misunderstanding, but it also brings us into deeper intimacy with Jesus and leaves a legacy of faith that echoes beyond our own lives.
“For am I now seeking the approval of man, or of God? Or am I trying to please man? If I were still trying to please man, I would not be a servant of Christ.” (Galatians 1:10, ESV)
Reflection: Is there a way you have held back in your devotion to Jesus out of fear of what others might think? What would it look like to step out in bold, even “embarrassing,” worship this week?
The altar is the place where we bring our disordered loves—those things we value above God—and allow Him to reorder our hearts. It’s not about giving things up for the sake of loss, but about gaining what cannot be lost: deeper intimacy with God.
As we lay down our idols and misplaced affections, God reshapes our desires and teaches us to love rightly. Our flourishing depends on loving things in the right order, and the altar is where that reordering happens. When we surrender, we make space for God to fill us with His presence and peace.
“Put to death therefore what is earthly in you: sexual immorality, impurity, passion, evil desire, and covetousness, which is idolatry… and have put on the new self, which is being renewed in knowledge after the image of its creator.” (Colossians 3:5, 10, ESV)
Reflection: What is one “disordered love” or misplaced priority in your life that God is inviting you to lay on the altar today? How might your life look different if God reordered your loves?
God is the one who lights the fire of faith in our hearts, but we are called to keep it burning. This means choosing daily to offer ourselves—our time, our worship, our obedience—even when we don’t feel like it. The fire of devotion is sustained not by waiting for emotion, but by continually placing fuel on the altar through intentional acts of worship and surrender.
Devotion is a daily choice, not a one-time event. As we keep returning to the altar, offering ourselves to God, the fire of love and faith grows stronger. Even small, costly acts of obedience can keep the flame alive and draw us deeper into God’s presence.
“The fire on the altar shall be kept burning on it; it shall not go out. The priest shall burn wood on it every morning, and he shall arrange the burnt offering on it and shall burn on it the fat of the peace offerings.” (Leviticus 6:12, ESV)
Reflection: What is one small, intentional act of worship or obedience you can choose today to keep the fire of your devotion to God burning?
of the Sermon**
This sermon, the first in a series on "altars," explores what it means to bring ourselves—our very lives—to God as an offering. Using the vivid metaphor of kite surfing in strong winds, the message highlights the need for anchors in our lives: God’s character, Word, hope, and safety. But anchors alone are not enough; we are also called to lay things down on the altar, to surrender what is precious to us. The story of the woman with the alabaster jar in Mark 14 is held up as a profound example of costly, extravagant worship—an act that moved Jesus and has echoed through history. The sermon challenges us to examine what we are truly offering to God, to move beyond safe, comfortable, or half-hearted devotion, and to embrace worship that is both costly and potentially embarrassing. It reminds us that true love for God is shown in what we are willing to lay down, and that the altar is the place where our disordered loves are reordered. The call is to keep the fire of devotion burning by continually offering ourselves, not waiting for feelings but choosing costly acts of worship, and to live lives that are "wasted beautifully" for God.
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If you don’t get your anchor right, you will end up somewhere you don’t want to be. The winds of culture, anxiety, and uncertainty will pull you off course unless you are anchored in something stronger.
The wonders of God and his promises aren’t so we sit on the sofa with an anchor beside us. We are called to come to the altar of worship, sacrifice, and surrender—lives fully lived, not just safely harbored.
Altars aren’t about duty or obligation. They’re about the heart—about love and devotion. True worship is sacrifice and extravagance, giving what is precious because God is worthy of our best.
Cost communicates value. It’s easy to give God what costs us nothing—casual prayers, half-hearted worship. But when we offer something costly, it shows what God truly means to us.
The presence of wholehearted, extravagant, costly worship provokes people. Some are compelled, others are offended, but everyone is moved. The same sun that melts the ice hardens the clay—it all depends on the state of your heart.
For me to express my love and devotion to Jesus, I have to be willing to face a little criticism for being “a little much.” It’s not that extravagant worship is too much; often, the real problem is that we offer too little.
No one tells the story of those who sat close to Jesus critiquing everything. Their part gets lost in time. But the story of the “wasteful” woman who gave extravagantly has inspired billions throughout history.
We all waste our worship somewhere. We invest our days, energy, and resources somewhere—so every so often, it’s essential to ask: is the story I’m living one worth telling?
The altar is where our disordered loves get put to the test. Sacrifice is the place where our loves are reordered, where we give up lesser things for the sake of something greater.
If your passion feels low, don’t wait for fuzzy feelings. Throw fuel on the fire—find any way to offer your extravagant, costly worship to God. The fire stays alive when you keep putting wood on it.
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