1/01/2020
I quit fighting. I simply wanted it all to stop…and then it happened. My recollection and remembrance of that first horrible encounter vanished and I now found myself once again in the present. The smell of grilled fish, vegetables and the unmistakable aroma of freshly baked bread permeated the small room as a sporadic breeze wisped the bouquet of such amongst all of us. The atmosphere, eerily quiet, to the point of uncomfortable, held the select few local Pharisees in a state of uncertainty.
Earlier as I approached the home of Simon, a man highly regarded in our small city, I felt an extreme sense of uneasiness. I wanted desperately to simply turn around and run yet something propelled me forward. Now standing at the doorway, with my hand on the latch, its warmth to the touch shocked me as the light of the day had given way to darkness many hours ago. As if orchestrated, as I began to pull the latch, the neigh of a nearby donkey frightened me further still as my entire body seemed to shake within and without.
The door creaked, with great proclamation, as I slowly opened it to the full. Walking in, unannounced and uninvited, the small talk amid its occupants instantly stopped. Their eyes, each a distinct set, felt like knives piercing my inner soul as I stood motionless trying desperately to locate him. My thoughts raced as I wondered how I might differentiate him from the others since I personally had never met this man whom I had heard so much about.
Flickers of light, from the paltry oil lamps strategically placed, illuminated and danced upon the walls and the ceiling as I stood looking intently into each of their eyes; and then I saw him…surely it had to be Him?! I looked briefly into his eyes yet dropped my head, turned a bit and my undesired companion of so many years, shame, momentarily held me imprisoned in its relentless grip.
His appearance and clothes, a bit disheveled, and unlike those within the room, would speak of his status and he too, I thought, did not belong here. That unknown energy source which had propelled me earlier towards Simon’s home would once again, cause me to walk slowly, ever so deliberately across the room and towards him. To my surprise the room remained quiet as no one spoke a word to me; it almost seemed as if they were somehow expecting my arrival. Now, only steps away, his eyes met mine, for a second time, and I was captivated by their embrace and I found myself incapable of looking away. Though weary, they were filled with an abundance of compassion and they seized me, utterly locked in their strength and I was now certain it was Him.
I carefully made my way around and through the other guests until I was standing, still quiet and without speaking a word, behind him. As I stood, a calm came over me, the uneasiness melted away and I began to cry softly at first. The whimper intensified, the quiet was broken, and tears began to flow uncontrollably and without hindrance. The enormity of such would become so great that they found themselves soaking the very feet of him that I had longed to love my entire life. I, without embarrassment, knelt at his feet and began to gently wipe them with my hair. With each new falling tear, as with his soil ladened feet, I too was becoming cleansed.
I was overcome and I neared his feet closer still. Lightly and with greater care, I now found myself kissing his feet in adoration and with a love that was just not of me. I reached inside the neckline of my tattered dress, exposed the small bottle of ointment fastened around my neck and delicately began to anoint his feet. Instantaneously, with no resistance, the former aromas yielded and the room’s atmosphere changed again and silence fell once more.
Lifting up from his feet slowly, with every intention of simply walking out of the room, I noticed an inexplicable transformation. For the first time, in so many years, I no longer felt dirty, I no longer felt ashamed, and I no longer felt the pain that had engrossed my life with much ferocity. All that I had become, all that I had done and, more importantly, all that had been done to me no longer mattered.
…then it happened. At that very moment, the prolonged silence broke yet again. I could, with great clarity, hear the words of Simon though, looking directly at him, there were no visible signs of him speaking. His thoughts, so damning, were being given their platform. It was if his thoughts were simply lingering in the air, suspended for all to witness. Was I the only one hearing such?
Luke 7:39 “Now when the Pharisee which had bidden him saw it, he spoke within himself, saying, this man, if he were a prophet, would have known who and what manner of woman this is that touches him: for she is a sinner.”
Luke 7:40-50 “And Jesus answering said unto him, Simon, I have somewhat to say unto thee. And he said, Master, say on. There was a certain creditor which had two debtors: the one owed five hundred pence, and the other fifty. And when they had nothing to pay, he frankly forgave them both. Tell me therefore, which of them will love him most? Simon answered and said, I suppose that he, to whom he forgave most. And he said unto him, thou hast rightly judged. And he turned to the woman, and said to Simon, See this woman? I entered into thine house, thou gavest me no water for my feet: but she hath washed my feet with tears, and wiped them with the hairs of her head. Thou gavest me no kiss; but this woman since the time I came in, hath not ceased to kiss my feet. My head with oil thou did not anoint: but this woman hath anointed my feet with ointment. Wherefore I say unto thee, her sins, which are many, are forgiven; for she loved much: but to whom little is forgiven, the same loveth little. And he said unto her, thy sins are forgiven. And they that sat at meat with him began to say within themselves, who is this that forgiveth sins also? And he said unto the woman, thy faith hath saved thee; go in peace.”
Father, I have labored long, trying to write with clarity and expound on all that loiters in and amongst the words of this passage to the point of exhaustion. Nothing that I pen feels right? Who is not guilty of judgment? How might we simply pass over the thought that “he frankly forgave them both”? Or the young lady, speaking not a singular word of confession, but yet saved? And the eyes…the eyes of Jesus looking not at the outward appearance but at the heart?
Surely there is a “back story” to each of our lives, unknown to the masses, that has shaped and molded us into who and what we have become. There are those this day, and as in the past, that are in situations that they never thought possible; rich, poverty stricken, drug addicts, alcoholics, prostitutes, homeless, helpless, hungry, thirsty, tired, abused as children both mentally and physically, abandoned, fatherless, motherless, lonely, guilt ridden, shame filled, widowed, without guidance, without protection and without hope. Many have simply “quit fighting.”
Matthew 9:36 “But when he saw the multitudes, he was moved with compassion on them, because they fainted, and were scattered abroad, as sheep with no shepherd.”
Jesus walked this earth moved with compassion! He saw not as man might see but looked beyond the flesh and into the very hearts of those He would be crucified for. His personal encounters, collisions if you will, both individually and collectively, would shake each person to the very core of their being? He would offer hope, peace in the midst of dire circumstance and a love, overflowing and abundant, that was and is not of this world and without limits. Choices would need to be made, choices that would impact the rest of their lives and though scripture falls silent many times as to the end of their stories, one cannot help but know that they simply were not the same after their encounters with the Son of God.
I tarry, still near this passage months later, but will concede to the Holy Spirit leaving this thought to linger…I wonder if those reading, that have encountered Jesus personally have been shaken, to the innermost core of their beings, for reasons other than self? What do our lives represent, how are our days spent and if we too might be humbled enough to be moved with compassion?
Galatians 2:20 “I am crucified with Christ, nevertheless I live; yet not I, but Christ liveth in me, and the life I now live in the flesh, I live by the faith of the Son of God, who loved me, and gave himself for me.”
Father, give us the eyes of your Son Jesus!
Daniel