She did not care that they were eating. She had not been invited or expected. She knew, in fact, that she would not, under normal circumstances, have been welcome at all. She did not care. This was her first--perhaps her only--chance to do something. Her life had been changed. How could she deny her heart this chance to express the gratitude she felt? So, she did not care that they were eating.
His head could not be reached. All the better, for what right did she have to approach his head? His feet would do. Yes, it would be fitting that she would exalt the humblest part of him. It would illustrate perfectly how much she valued, honored, loved him. The humblest and filthiest part of his body is worthy of her anointing and tears and more!
She stood observing for perhaps half a moment. Afraid to tarry lest she loose courage and abandon her grand gesture, she stepped away from the edge of the courtyard and prepared to approach his feet. What a shame they had not been better cared for! Here was the Lamb of God who takes away the sins of the world! He should be given the greatest of hospitality. His very head should be anointed and his entire body exalted; it is shameful that they would neglect his feet. Never mind that. She would express gratitude not in respect to the one who saves the world, but in submission to the One who brought forgiveness for her. Never mind that many had repented and come to be cleansed; it was her victory over condemnation that moved her. She who had much to forgive could not suppress her desire to worship.
Before she realized it she was standing behind Jesus. Tears were flowing so she could hardly see. She looked down for the target of her activity. Blinking she realized she had already begun anointing his feet with her tears. She felt audacious and overly bold, but her heart was moved. She was torn between feeling she had gone too far and knowing she had not gone nearly far enough. Her focus collapsed to those feet. Those beautiful feet that had traveled so far. Those beautiful feet that had brought the Good News of God Almighty. Elohim’s Messenger, his Lamb, the Messiah. She was now on her knees, framing his feet with her hands, oblivious to the stares and the silencing banquet. Her savior’s feet were now wet with her tears. She had bowed so close that her hair hung near. Without thinking she wiped the feet with her hair. Later she would realize how insane she looked. She would hear the stories and the whispers about the scandal she had created. She may have never heard that her story would one day be written down and that others would worship this same man because of her.
She wiped his tear-muddied feet with her long, scandalous hair and remembered the task for which she had come. She pulled the precious white vial from her robe, unsealed it and wasted it upon those feet. Its value was great in the eyes of men, but she held it as too small a sacrifice for this man who had changed her life. Perfume -- an extravagance for those who could afford luxury and were unconcerned with mere survival. Even for the wealthy it was used with discretion and reserved for occasions of full effect. But for this man she would hold nothing back. She poured until empty. The last drop fell and the bottle was satisfied, but her heart was still full. So, she poured forth kisses upon his feet, a further anointing with the sacred perfume of her heart. Unlike the bottle, her heart would never run dry.
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