We finally had a date night scheduled. It had been quite a few months since my husband and I had done anything fun just the two of us. Any outings that involve us being together boiled down to juggling our energetic toddler, answering frequent questions from our five boys, and yelling to each other over store aisles. We both needed a breather.
We didn’t have any specific plans for the night. There weren’t enough mental reserves to figure it out beforehand. But I did know, at the very least, I was going to take off my mommy hat for just a few hours.
Until that morning.
Our youngest woke up early, and as he brought his head near my face I could feel extra warmth radiating onto my cheek. My heart sank.
Maybe I was imagining it, but he looked tired and when his father held him for the first time it wasn’t long before my suspicions were confirmed.
“He feels warm,” my husband mumbled.
I begrudgingly took his temperature. It was elevated.
Boo.
The date needed to be officially canceled.
Being a homeschool mom with few social outlets throughout the week, this was a hard disappointment to swallow. The winter weather has continued to drag on through the Spring and I was feeling cooped up. When I explained all of this to my husband, he sweetly responded by suggesting I leave the house later that evening while he watched the kiddos.
Well, that was a nice offer, but I really didn’t know what I would do or where I would go. The process of rebuilding our community has been agonizingly slow, and I wasn’t in the habit of calling up a friend to hang out. I was too tired to even think about it, so I didn’t and hoped that an attractive idea would spring upon me in the next few hours.
Early that afternoon, I received a text message from a friend I was not in the habit of seeing regularly. She asked me if I wanted to attend a one night’s Women’s Ministry Conference that very evening. She had one extra ticket and wanted to know if I was interested in attending. I was chuckling a bit here because I had known of the event and RSVP’d “no” just a few days prior, in anticipation of my hot date. However, I had completely forgotten about it and the ability to buy tickets the same day would have likely been slim even if I had remembered.
I responded with an enthusiastic, “I’ll be there!”, knowing that the invitation was exactly what I needed.
At least I hoped it was just what I needed.
I simultaneously wondered if the experience would be as encouraging as I craved it to be. On my half-hour drive there, I thought about the possible hang-ups to the night’s success. Triggering worship? The nauseating idolization of speakers, singers, or church? A fluffy message I’ve heard before? Having to walk into a church? Seeing someone I knew from my former faith community? These were all mental hurdles that I acknowledged but was willing to face in hopes of at least one refreshing experience.
I was warmly received at the entrance by my friend holding my free-to-me conference bracelet that she had generously gifted me. We then ushered ourselves into the sanctuary since it was about to start. Her group had saved a seat for me. Some of the women gave me friendly smiles, while another gave me a big hug. I didn’t “do” life with these ladies regularly, but they held parts of my story and were sensitive to it whenever I popped in and out of their circle.
What transpired after felt…surprisingly…good.
It didn’t feel too much like a show. The comedian, singer, and speaker were down-to-earth, relatable, and humble. The songs sung were well known to me, but in the best way, not the worst. The worship that was selected were songs that allowed me to do just that, worship! It was going well. This was such a rare experience for me that I would’ve been content if all that had come from it was the ability to participate in corporate worship without sad thoughts about our old church.
But then came the speaker…with the message. Her name was Erica Wiggenhorn, never heard of her before this point. She referenced a couple of passages, which were all refreshing for me for the hard season I’m in. But when she came to Luke chapter 7, she brought our attention to one sentence that I don’t think I’ll ever see the same again.
She eloquently and engagingly told, and for most of us, retold the story of Jesus being anointed by the “sinful woman”. Are you familiar with the story? It begins in Luke 7:36. Jesus had been invited to a Pharisee’s home to eat dinner. (In case you don’t know, Pharisees are highly esteemed religious leaders.)
And while Jesus is reclining at the dinner table, a “sinful woman”, aka, most likely a prostitute or woman with a bad reputation, begins weeping at Jesus’ feet. While she is sobbing, soaking his lower extremities, she wipes them dry with her hair and then pours perfume on them.
Erica brought attention to the fact that there’s no reason to believe that Jesus has openly acknowledged the woman’s presence yet, even though she is quite literally making a scene.
We get a sneak peek into Simon, the Pharisee’s mind, at this point. He is quite bothered by the display of affection and thinks to himself in verse 39, “…If this man were a prophet, he would know who is touching him and what kind of woman she is–that she is a sinner.”
Simon was in the top tier of his religious community. Having conviction over his judgemental thoughts was probably not a regular occurrence for him. But little did he know, Simon was in the presence of a Holy mind reader and was about to learn God’s perspective of this sinful woman.
Jesus addresses Simon’s hidden thoughts through the telling of this story in verses 41-43,
“Two people owed money to a certain moneylender. One owed him five hundred denarii, and the other fifty. Neither of them had the money to pay him back, so he forgave the debts of both. Now which of them will love him more? Simon replied, “I suppose the one who had the bigger debt forgiven.” “You have judged correctly,” Jesus said.”
Jesus teaches, engages, and affirms Simon’s answer before bringing his point home in the following verses.
In verse 44 it says, “Then he turned towards the woman and said to Simon, “Do you see this woman?”
Hard pause. The speaker stopped here and let that one sentence marinate my soul.
She repeated it.
“Do you see this woman?”
These five words had caused the tears to well up in my eyes and roll down my cheeks. I discreetly wiped them away as new ones appeared.
The days, weeks, months, and years after our excommunication had pushed me into a world of trauma and isolation, with a broken trust in humanity. My religious leaders said that my sin was so great that I should not be seen. The consequences of their treatment were blaring through the walls of my home, but on the outside it was calm. My unsuspecting neighbors would not be able to detect our struggles, our grief, or our devastation.
No one could see.
Even that morning, no one could’ve seen how desperately tired I was from the responsibilities of life or how they had begun to pile up and discourage me.
But as the speaker again, repeated Jesus’ words, “Do you see this woman?” I found the truth I had been missing in the retelling of this imperfect woman’s story.
Jesus sees the woman.
Jesus sees the woman.
And while Simon’s human eyes allow him to see the physical form of her female body, Jesus draws Simon’s attention to what he can’t see.
Let’s read what happens next, in verses 44-47,
“Then he turned toward the woman and said to Simon, “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—as her great love has shown. But whoever has been forgiven little loves little.”
Jesus saw her heart. A beautiful heart bursting with love for her Savior.
And if Jesus sees her heart, I can have confidence that Jesus sees mine too.
He saw my discouraged heart from early that morning. He’s seen my heart when it’s sick with sinful tendencies. And He has carefully observed my heart weather the storm of rejection and betrayal.
He’s seen it through every phase of my life, through the littlest experiences and the big ones, so I can no longer believe that no one sees. That day, my Papa God scooped me up and reminded me that He has and will always, see my heart.
How have you ever seen God care for you in your disappointment? Do you feel seen by God? Why or why not?
