What Have You Reserved for Yourself?

“As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body, and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock.”
— Matthew 27:57–60

There is a man named Jason who has become a special part of our Fragrant Life community.

Jason likes the big dogs.

The fragrances people recognize. The bottles that make you stop for a second because you know exactly what they are worth.

He buys from the Blessing Shelf.

But he also puts things on it.

And for some reason, I keep wanting to call him:

Jason of Arimathea.

Not Jason.

Jason of Arimathea.

Apparently my brain decided somewhere along the way that this was his full biblical name.

I assumed it was just because Jason and Joseph were close enough for my mind to cross the wires.

Then I remembered Joseph of Arimathea.

And suddenly the mistake did not seem quite so random.

A while back, I had been talking during one of our shows about something I really wanted to see happen on the Blessing Shelf.

I wanted to put a Creed on it.

For fragrance people, you understand what that means. Creed is not the bottle you casually toss into a giveaway pile. It carries a name, a reputation, and a price tag people recognize.

I had talked about wanting to see one make it onto the shelf, and Jason said something simple:

“If you run it, I’ll put it on the shelf.”

So I ran it.

And he did.

It became one of those moments in a live show when I suddenly had trouble talking.

No one had put something on the Blessing Shelf at that level before.

And the timing made it even more personal.

That week we were supporting Mission of Hope, a ministry that is deeply woven into my own story. I spent years serving in Haiti. I love the Haitian people. There are places, faces, memories, and pieces of my heart there that will always be part of me.

So there I was, watching someone take something valuable and willingly place it on a shelf so that it could become a blessing to people I love.

And I broke.

It was a bottle of fragrance.

But what filled the room had very little to do with what was inside the bottle.

Everyone could smell the aroma of Christ that night.

We smelled generosity.

We smelled love.

We smelled somebody holding something valuable with open hands.

And maybe that is why my mind keeps turning Jason into Joseph of Arimathea.

Matthew introduces Joseph with a detail that is impossible to miss:

He was rich.

Mark tells us he was a prominent member of the council. Luke calls him a good and righteous man. John tells us that he had been a disciple of Jesus, though secretly because he feared the Jewish leaders.

Joseph had resources.

Position.

Reputation.

And he had something else.

A tomb.

Matthew does not merely tell us that Joseph found a place to put Jesus’ body.

He tells us Jesus was placed in Joseph’s own new tomb.

His own.

New.

Cut out of the rock.

It had been prepared for Joseph.

Someday, he expected that tomb to hold his own body.

It was valuable.

Personal.

Prepared for his future.

And when the moment came, Joseph made it available to Jesus.

He gave Jesus what he had reserved for himself.

That is different from giving away something you no longer want.

Different from clearing out a closet.

Different from donating what has lost its usefulness to you.

Joseph offered something that was still valuable.

Something with his name on it.

Something he had every right to keep.

And that is where this story begins pressing on me.

The beauty of Joseph’s wealth was not that he had something valuable. It was that what he possessed did not possess him.

There was nothing sinful about owning a tomb.

There was nothing wrong with preparing for his future.

The beauty is that when devotion called for what was in his hands, he could open them.

Possession is not the same thing as surrender.

We can have money and never make any of it available to God.

We can have influence and spend all of it protecting our own name.

We can have time and guard every minute of it.

We can have a home and never open the door.

We can have gifts and use every one of them to build ourselves.

Eventually faith reaches the things we call mine.

And asks a harder question:

Is this available to Jesus?

Joseph’s answer was not merely financial.

His reputation was on the table too.

John tells us he had been a secret disciple.

But there was nothing secret about walking into Pilate’s presence and asking for the body of a crucified man.

Mark says Joseph went boldly.

Jesus was dead.

The crowds had thinned.

The disciples had scattered.

There was no obvious earthly advantage to identifying yourself with Him now.

And Joseph stepped forward anyway.

He made his tomb available.

He made his reputation available.

He made himself available.

Maybe that is what devotion eventually does.

It moves Jesus from Someone we quietly believe in to Someone our lives visibly belong to.

Which makes me ask:

What have I reserved for myself?

What part of my life still has my name carved into the door?

My time?

My money?

My comfort?

My plans?

My reputation?

My future?

Maybe even something good.

The question is not whether we are allowed to own things, plan things, or enjoy what God has given us.

The question is whether we hold those things loosely enough that love can interrupt our plans.

That would have been enough of a lesson for me.

But Jason was not finished teaching me.

A week or so later, I was doing another fragrance show and talking about Creed.

I found myself remembering a very different season of life.

We were young missionaries with young kids. We were raising a family and serving people we loved, and buying a Creed fragrance was simply not something I could have justified. It was one of those things I could admire without ever imagining spending that kind of money on myself.

Jason was listening.

He bought a Creed Aventus from my own store.

Then he told me:

“Well, now you do.”

And I broke again.

Because it is one thing to preach generosity.

It is another thing to be loved by it.

In that moment, I felt a little like Peter.

When Jesus knelt to wash the disciples’ feet, Peter resisted Him.

“No,” said Peter, “you shall never wash my feet.”

I understand that instinct.

Sometimes receiving love can feel more uncomfortable than giving it.

This is too much.

You should not do this for me.

I am not worthy of that.

But grace has never waited for us to become worthy of receiving it.

Sometimes humility means opening our hands to give.

And sometimes humility means opening our hands to receive.

Sometimes open hands have to learn to give. Sometimes open hands have to learn to receive.

Both can teach us something about Jesus.

I am deeply thankful for Jason.

But Jason is not the point of this devotional.

Neither is Joseph.

Jesus is.

Joseph had a tomb.

Jason had a bottle.

You have something.

I have something.

The object is not really the point.

The question is whether what God has placed in our hands is actually available to Him.

Maybe it is your schedule.

Maybe it is a seat at your table.

Maybe it is money.

Maybe it is expertise somebody else needs.

Maybe it is encouragement you have been meaning to give.

Maybe it is the dream you have carefully planned and protected.

Maybe it is simply the ability to notice what would make someone else feel loved.

Joseph thought he knew what his tomb was for.

Then a moment came when love gave it a greater purpose.

Perhaps there are things in our hands like that too.

Things we have already assigned a purpose.

Things we have planned around.

Things we have reserved.

And maybe surrender sounds like this:

Jesus, what You have placed in my hands is available to You.

Not because having something valuable is wrong.

But because I never want what I possess to possess me.

That night on the Blessing Shelf, nobody had to spray the Creed to recognize the fragrance.

We could smell generosity.

We could smell love.

We could smell the aroma of Christ.

Sometimes it looks like a new tomb opened for the body of Jesus.

Sometimes it looks like a bottle of Creed sitting on a Blessing Shelf.

Different gifts.

Same fragrance.

Open hands.

And everyone in the room can smell it.

Your life leaves a scent trail. Be fragrant.