A narration of the Biblical
story in Luke 7
I
have heard stories of a man, gifted with the power of God. People tell of
beautiful stories and wondrous acts. Some call Him the Messiah. He heals people
wherever He goes. I heard He healed a man with leprosy. The leper begged to be
made clean, this Messiah actually reached out and touched the leper’s face and
said “be clean,” and he was!
Now
He is in town. He was invited to a meal with Simon the Pharisee. Why would He
go? Pharisees tend to disagree with the teachings and pretty much everything He
stands for.
When
I heard He’d be there, I knew I had to go. How could I not? He was my last
hope.
I’ve
been told He is the Savior of the world, and if this is true, can He save me?
I
snuck in the back, early, to make sure I could blend in with the servants who
were there, greeting guests and washing their feet.
I
looked around the room, no one noticed me at first. Surely, if they had, I
would have been removed.
I’m
unclean. I’m a sinner. Some have called me wicked and immoral. I am a social
outcast. I have done things I am ashamed of. So very ashamed of. And no one
will let me forget it. I feel terribly for what I have done and I live with
constant angst and hurt because of it.
When
Jesus walked in, I could barely breathe. “That’s Him,” I whispered to myself.
Fighting every urge to run to Him, I held back, slowly walking behind the
others, catching glimpses of Him between the huddle of people.
When
Jesus reclined at the table, I was shocked when no one approached Him.
No
servant knelt to wash His feet, no kiss on His hand, and no oil for His head.
Don’t these people know who He is?
I
took a couple deep breathes, felt inside my cloak for the bottle of perfume I
brought. It took all I had to take that first step toward Him. I stopped right
behind Him and the tears began to well up in my eyes.
I
began to weep. I couldn’t even look at Him. I could barely stand. I dropped to
my knees, His feet just inches from me.
My
eyes were still down. How could I look at Him, after all I have done? I make my
living in one of the oldest professions in the world and I spend my money on
perfume, so that when I put it on, it masks the dirtiness of my life.
My
hands reached out and I did the only thing I could think of.
I
washed His feet.
I
had nothing but my tears, streaming down my face. It was as though all my sins,
my unworthiness, washed out of me.
I
felt as if washing the dirt off His feet was somehow washing all the dirt off
of me.
I
looked around for a towel but there was none. His feet, now clean, were too
holy for me to use my stained garment. So I reached for my hair.
Still
crying, I dried His feet with my hair, and opened the perfume. I had nothing
else to offer Him.
Would
He accept my humble offering?
As
I poured out the perfume on His feet, Jesus began speaking to Simon the
Pharisee, the host. They spoke about forgiveness and grace.
Then
I heard, “Do you see this woman?”
“Please,
no,” I silently pleaded. “Please don’t point me out. Please don’t look at me.”
All
my hopes of anonymity were gone. Everyone was looking at me.
Who
was I kidding? They all knew of me. They knew how I made money and I was often
the talk of the town, hushed whispers when I walked through the market. But no
one actually knows me. The real me. But maybe this Jesus does?
Jesus
spoke again to Simon the Pharisee.
“Do
you see this woman? I came into your house. You did not give me any water for
my feet, but she wet my feet with her tears and wiped them with her hair. You
did not give me a kiss, but this woman, from the time I entered, has not
stopped kissing my feet. You did not put oil on my head, but she has poured
perfume on my feet. Therefore, I tell you, her many sins have been forgiven –
for she loved much. But he who has been forgiven little loves little.”
I
paused and all was quiet in the room. I tried to process what I just heard, and
then, Jesus looked directly at me. His eyes met mine.
“Your
sins are forgiven. Your faith has saved you; go in peace.”
Forgiven, faith, peace. I
hadn’t said anything to Him. No confession of my sins, nor did I vocalize my
faith. I didn’t share how hard life has been for me nor how I mourn for my
sins.
He knew me. Surely He is the
Messiah, for I was known by Him.