Pour the Oil

Rediscovering what it means to truly honor God.

Beloved friend,

There’s something that’s been sitting with me all week: the idea of honour. Not just the kind we show with offerings or by saying “thank You, Jesus” when things go well, but honor in the quiet, consistent things, the little details that show God that He truly holds first place in our lives.

A few days ago, I was talking with a colleague, and we found ourselves neck-deep in a conversation about Christian living. He said something so simple, but so weighty; that he couldn’t go a day without praying, studying the Word, or listening to a sermon. Not because he’s trying to tick religious boxes, but because that’s how he keeps his spirit alive. He said if one slacks even a little, they starts to feel the effects after a while; you don’t grow cold in a day.

That struck something in me.

I agreed that lukewarmness doesn’t happen in a day. It creeps in gradually, like a slow leak. And that’s true for many of us. A day without prayer becomes a week. A missed devotion becomes a pattern. And before you know it, you’re dry. You didn’t mean to be, but you relaxed just long enough for your fire to dim.

That conversation reminded me that keeping our spirits aflame is not just discipline, it’s honour. It’s honouring what God has invested in us. It’s honouring the sacrifice of Christ. It’s honouring the relationship we claim to value. And when we don’t tend to it, when we treat our spiritual walk as something casual, we end up dishonoring what should be most sacred to us.

A teacher of the Word I deeply respect shared a teaching about how in the Old Testament, the fat of the animal was the richest part and it was always to be given to God. That imagery stayed with me: the richest part. The best part. That belongs to the Lord.

He also shared something that David did, and it’s stayed in my heart. David once said he was thirsty, and his men, out of love and loyalty, risked their lives just to get him water. When they brought it to him, he couldn’t even drink it. He said it would be like drinking their blood. So he poured it out, not to waste it, but to offer it to God. What kind of reverence is that? He saw something that cost dearly and thought, “Only God deserves this.”

That’s honour.

And it made me think about the woman with the alabaster jar. That perfume was worth a whole year’s wages. She didn’t portion it. She didn’t say, “Okay, let me pour a little and save the rest.” She broke it. She emptied it. She poured it all at Jesus’ feet. Not because He needed perfume, but because she needed to say, “You’re worth this and more.”

Substance is not just money. It’s your time. Your energy. Your focus. Your best. Scripture says, “Honor the Lord with your substance” (Proverbs 3:9). That means everything your life produces: your wisdom, your capacity, your influence, your voice, your day ; it can be laid at His feet.

This is not about checking devotion boxes. It’s about giving God what He deserves. He doesn’t just deserve your leftovers after the day has worn you out. He deserves your first thoughts, your sharpest attention, your highest devotion.

I’ve been guilty of doing it too, saying, “Let me just unwind a bit” after work, then giving God the tail end of my time when I’m already drained. But even your workplace expects your best. They want you at your desk, bright and early, giving sharp responses. Why? Because they know when you’re at your best, the work thrives. Why then do we give God what’s left?

That scripture came alive for me again: “Those who honor Me I will honor, and those who despise Me shall be lightly esteemed” (1 Samuel 2:30). It’s not about fear. It’s about understanding that honour goes both ways. You can’t give God the best of you and not experience the best of Him.

Even Jesus honoured the Father. Every time He rose early to pray, every time He put aside His own desires to obey, every time He endured suffering; it was honor. He didn’t offer God mere words. He offered His life.

Speaking of offering our lives, the same colleague, made another point that cracked me up but also made so much sense. We were talking about proposals in church. You know those moments when someone interrupts a worship session with a ring? He was like, “How can someone be speaking in tongues, deep in worship, and next thing you’re pulling out a ring to propose?” We both laughed because truly, that’s not the time! That’s someone in the middle of ministering to God, not performing for man. It might seem small, but that’s also about honor. Church proposals are beautiful when service to God isn’t ongoing. Keeping God at the centre, even in beautiful moments, is a form of reverence we can’t afford to lose.

So yes, your undivided attention in prayer is honour. Your early rising is honour. Your integrity at work, your patience with others, your diligence in spiritual things, it’s all honor.

Because honour isn’t just the big gestures. It’s not just kneeling during worship or singing louder than everyone else. It’s in the hidden things: resisting distractions, choosing purity, showing up consistently, pouring your best.

This is the season to stop treating God like a side piece and start placing Him where He rightfully belongs: at the centre.

There’s a part of me that wants to say all of this gently, but there’s also a part that knows this is a wake-up call. If you’ve felt dry lately, maybe the issue isn’t dryness. Maybe it’s dishonour. Maybe it’s time to return to awe.

Let’s be people who know how to pour the oil. Not with restraint. But with reckless honour.

With thoughts of kindness,

ABBA’s Shofar