There is a tragic irony in the spectacle of a man stretching out his hand to buy “anointing,” while the very Scriptures he claims to honor are left unopened before him. He seeks in a bottle what God has promised in Christ. He pays money for what Heaven gives by grace. He runs after a symbol as though it were the substance, and in doing so reveals not spiritual hunger alone, but biblical ignorance.
The matter is not small. Whenever the Church begins to trade in symbols as though they contain power in themselves, she stands in danger of repeating the old sin of preferring shadows to the living God. It is possible to hold oil in one’s hand and yet remain untouched in the heart. It is possible to pour something on the head while remaining barren in the soul. And it is possible to build an entire religious marketplace around a misunderstanding of Scripture.
The buyer of “anointing oil” is ignorant of the Book, because if he knew the Book, he would know first that the true anointing is not a commodity. It is not merchandised, imported, bottled, branded, advertised, or auctioned. The true anointing is the gracious work and indwelling presence of the Holy Spirit in the believer. John writes, “the anointing that you received from him abides in you” (1 John 2:27). That sentence alone should shake the entire economy of spiritual salesmanship. The anointing abides in the believer; it is not rented from a preacher, nor purchased from a ministry table, nor activated by a commercial transaction.
John’s point is not that the Church has no teachers at all, for Christ Himself gave pastors and teachers to His body (Ephesians 4:11–12). Rather, John is saying that the believer is not finally dependent on secret spiritual merchants who claim exclusive access to divine power. The Spirit of truth dwells in the saints. The believer’s life in God is not sustained by the oil market, but by union with Christ.
This is where the Old Testament must be read carefully and reverently. In Exodus 30:22–33, God commanded Moses to make a sacred anointing oil. It was holy. It was consecrated. It was set apart for the tabernacle, its furnishings, and the priests. It was not a common substance for ordinary use. It signified consecration unto God. It marked out persons and things for sacred service. It was therefore never magic, never an independent force, and never a charm. Its holiness lay not in superstition, but in divine appointment.
That is why the Lord spoke with such severity about it. After giving the formula, God forbade Israel from reproducing it for ordinary use. “It shall not be poured upon the body of an ordinary person,” and its composition was not to be imitated for private use (Exodus 30:32–33). The prohibition is deeply revealing. If even the symbolic oil of the old covenant was not to be copied, commercialized, or trivialized, how much more should the Church tremble before turning “anointing” into a product line?
Here is the absurdity of the modern abuse: what God explicitly fenced off as holy, some now bottle, label, and sell as though sacred things were entrepreneurial opportunities. Men have become merchants of atmosphere. They imply that power can be transferred through purchase, intensified through branded oil, or personalized through payment. But the God of Scripture never authorized the sale of His presence.
One need only turn to Acts 8:18–23 to see how heaven answers the attempt to buy spiritual power. Simon saw that the Spirit was given through the laying on of the apostles’ hands, and he offered money, saying in effect, “Give me this power also.” Peter’s rebuke was not gentle because the offense was not light: “May your silver perish with you, because you thought you could obtain the gift of God with money.” That sentence should thunder through every sanctuary where spirituality is priced. The gift of God is not for sale. The Holy Spirit is not a transaction. Grace is not a market.
The tragedy is that many do not merely buy oil; they buy the illusion of nearness to God. They purchase something visible because they have neglected the invisible realities of repentance, obedience, prayer, and abiding in Christ. Buying oil is easier than crucifying the flesh. It is simpler to seek a bottle than to seek holiness. Flesh prefers a shortcut, because flesh has always preferred what can be handled over what must be surrendered to.
Yet Scripture moves in the opposite direction. Under the old covenant, oil was an outward sign associated with consecration and empowerment. Under the new covenant, the reality to which it pointed is poured out more gloriously in Christ through the Holy Spirit. The movement of redemption is from shadow to substance, from symbol to fulfillment. To cling to the sign while neglecting the reality is like kissing the envelope and discarding the letter. The oil pointed beyond itself. It was never the destination.
This does not mean that every use of oil in the life of the Church is automatically false. James 5:14 speaks of elders praying over the sick and anointing with oil in the name of the Lord. But even there, the oil is not sold, fetishized, or treated as an independent force. It is joined to prayer, faith, and the name of the Lord. It serves as a sign within pastoral ministry, not as a magical substance carrying automatic power. The moment oil is detached from Christ and treated as a spiritual technology, it becomes a rival to the very gospel it is supposed to serve.
This is where discernment becomes urgent. There is a great difference between using oil as a humble biblical symbol in prayer and treating oil as though it contains purchasable divine energy. The first bows before God. The second manipulates holy things. The first says, “Lord, we trust You alone.” The second whispers, “Perhaps this object can secure what faith and obedience have not.” One is reverent; the other is enchanted religion dressed in Christian language.
At its root, the buying of “anointing oil” is not merely a theological error. It is a failure to understand Christ Himself. Jesus is the Anointed One in the fullest sense. He is the Messiah, the Christ. And all who belong to Him share in the blessings of His finished work, not through purchase, but through faith. The Spirit is given because Christ has died, risen, ascended, and poured Him out upon His people. The believer does not buy access to what the Son purchased with His blood.
To sell anointing is therefore to insult grace. It is to imply that Calvary was insufficiently accessible unless supplemented by religious commerce. It is to build a stall in the temple of redemption and imagine that doves, oil, and sacred language can coexist with the free mercy of God. But Christ still overturns tables. He still drives out every economy that turns the holy into merchandise.
The Church must recover a holy disgust for spiritual trade. Ministers are not oil merchants. They are stewards of mysteries, heralds of Christ, servants of the Word. The pulpit must not become a showroom, and the sanctuary must not become a marketplace where desperate souls are taught to confuse spending with believing. A congregation trained to buy “anointing” will rarely learn to abide in Christ. Why should it, when it has been taught that power comes through possession rather than communion?
The call, then, is not merely to stop buying oil. It is to return to the Book. Return to the God who gives Himself freely in Christ. Return to the Spirit who indwells believers. Return to the sobering truth that holiness cannot be purchased, power cannot be branded, and anointing cannot be sold.
Let the man who has been buying bottles repent. Let the minister who has been selling symbols repent. Let the Church herself repent for tolerating what Scripture rebukes. For the real anointing is not on the shelf. It is not in the advertisement. It is not in the hands of spiritual merchants. It is in Christ, and by His Spirit it abides in those who are truly His.
The one who knows the Book will stop chasing sacred objects as substitutes for spiritual reality. He will understand that Exodus 30 did not authorize a market, but fenced off what was holy from imitation and common use. He will understand that Acts 8 condemns the purchase of divine power. He will understand that 1 John 2:27 places the accent not on external commodities, but on the inward abiding of the Spirit.
And once he understands this, he will no longer ask, “Where can I buy the anointing?” He will fall on his knees and ask the better question: “Am I abiding in Christ, in whom the fullness of God is given freely to His people?”
That is the question the bottle cannot answer. Only the Book can.