A Sinful Woman

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.