Everyone considered me an outcast, and they made jolly sure I knew my place, firmly at the bottom of the pile.
Firstly, it was because I was a woman, on a sticky wicket to begin with. Secondly, it was because I had been branded a sinner. I confess, I had not followed all their rules, and gone along with their agenda, but I had to eat, and so I found whatever method I could to allow that to happen.
I had heard about Jesus. People said that He befriended sinners, ate with them, and treated people like me as His equals, giving them the opportunity to ask for forgiveness and maybe even a new start. I wanted that – I didn’t want to carry on with life as it was. I wanted a fresh dawn, and I believed He could give it to me.
I knew that His friends would not allow me anywhere near Him, so I kept my ears to the ground and waited for a good time.
I heard about a dinner being hosted by one of the locals, so I turned up on the doorstep and got myself in. Officials tried to stop me, but I so wanted to see Jesus, I just kept on walking until I reached the main hall.
Suddenly, there He was, reclining at a table with the other guests. I didn’t wait – I ran, hit my knees, and poured perfume from the jar I carried all over his feet.
As I did I began to cry, as the weight of all my sin fell away. My tears and the perfume mingled together and I wiped His feet with my hair.
There was uproar! But not from Him, He smiled and gently helped me to my feet.
Someone complained that the perfume was expensive and could have been saved for the poor. He told them that there would always be poor people, but that they would not always have Him.
Someone else was quick to point out my reputation, after all I was a sinful woman, but He told them I had done a beautiful thing in preparing Him for burial – that had not been my intention but I was pleased He liked what I had done.
The dinner host and his guests condemned me. Jesus forgave me.
And I washed His feet with my perfume and my tears and dried them with my hair.
With many peaceful blessings