Fragrant Honor

Several months ago, I began writing an article about Luke's account of the feast at the home of Simon, the Pharisee. Jesus was invited. An honor, right? But, a woman enters -- but not just any woman -- Luke tells us she was "a sinner," a prostitute. She pours out expensive perfume; she pours out her tears; she pours forth, from the depths of her heart, contrition and worship. The Pharisee mumbles derisively and Jesus brings to light the deepest contents of the host's heart: self-righteousness, arrogance, judgment, and maybe even a bit of jealousy.

"I entered your house; you gave Me no water for my feet, but she has washed My feet with her tears and wiped them with the hair of her head. You gave Me no kiss, but this woman has not ceased to kiss My feet since the time I came in. You did not anoint My head with oil, but this woman has anointed My feet with fragrant oil." (v. 44-46)

Jesus called the home owner out at his own dinner table! Imagine Simon's face reddening before his guests. The truth is, had any one of those guests acted in such a manner, Simon would have despised them equally. He wasn't interested in honoring others as they were; he was uncomfortable with people and their messes. Oil spilling all over the floor. Tears and weeping, loudly making a scene. And her hair draped over the dusty feet of this stranger? A mess! Just like this filthy woman's entire life! How dare she bring her dirt to his door! Chaos and disorder, sin and shame spilling over his threshold -- and in front of "decent people!"

As I read, I looked around our home. Clean. Neat. Preserved. And nothing is -- or was -- necessarily wrong with that. But, I asked myself how I would feel if such a woman brought her dirt into my home. What would I do if someone "caused a scene" such as this woman did? Would I show her the door, or make excuses to my guests? And who would be at my table? Is my heart's desire to serve and love, or to keep tidy and avoid drama? Does my honor of Jesus come with qualifications?

Within a week, He gave me the opportunity to have all my questions answered. Drama and "messiness" had taken center stage in our lives. A week! An unbelievable situation, that had begun with a simple "this is to inform you" letter months prior, had come live and in person to our front door. Sitting in my neat little office contemplating the scene at Simon's house was a far cry from what the Lord was now asking us to do. And like any self-righteous Pharisee, deep down, I was uncomfortable with damaged people and their messes. I wanted this chance -- more than anything; I knew we had to take responsibility; it was the right thing to do. But oh! the mess it was going to make! Our lives turned upside down, our relationship tested, our physical limitations expanded, our resources exploited -- and forgiveness? The forgiveness we were going to have to give, the forgiveness we were going to have to accept! For, if we were going to do this, we would have to know it was only because we walk in the forgiveness granted by Jesus Christ, and we would have to show that same forgiveness to others.

"I tell you the, the great love she has shown proves that her many sins have been forgiven. But whoever has been forgiven little shows only a little love." -- Luke 7:47

That was almost a year ago, and we have been equipped for this journey each and every day. Equipped with grace, poured out on us; equipped with forgiveness, completely and eternally purchased for us, and daily before us. Our walls have dings and our floors have scratches. Piles of freshly folded clothes topple to the floor as closet space runs out; dirty dishes and garbage are automatically replenished, while gasoline and time are not. But it is this -- our home and lives poured out, our sanitized dreams completely disrupted, our schedules surrendered -- that Jesus demands. It is the mess, invited as we open our hearts and homes to one another, that gives Him the fragrant honor of which He is so deserving.