As I meditate on Luke 7 I can almost picture the scene around the dinner table: the broken pieces of the alabaster jar lie shattered at the feet of a guest, expensive perfume spilled out on the ground before Him as a weeping woman holds nothing back; her riches and dignity poured out before Him.
I can see the woman with her knees on the dirty ground and her hair lying in tangles before her as she uses it to wipe her Saviour's feet with her salty tears. Though she is uninvited she shows hospitality to the one who has paid the ransom for her lost soul. She is moved by the knowledge within her that she has been stained deep scarlet by the vastness of her sin yet here in front of her she finds the worn feet of the one who can clothe her in radiant white once more.
Onlookers condemn her and doubt their dinner guest for He has yet to rebuke this undignified spectacle. But the Saviour of the sick directs his rebuke only at them; He tells them they don't understand because they have only been forgiven little so their love is also small. All the while, the weeping woman does not falter in her kisses because she knows she has been forgiven much and from this reserve flows a love that has consumed her.
As I place myself in this story I discover that I too am broken as the alabaster jar, poured out as the perfume, dirty as the Saviour's feet and forgiven as the sinful woman. And it is from this place where I find the forgiveness that has removed my iniquity that I uncover a raw love in me; only because at a great price that same dinner guest has also loved me first.
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