William Miller, in THE JOY OF FEELING GOOD, relates the story of a woman who went to a psychiatrist because she was severely depressed. As her therapist began to probe her emotions, he discovered she had never worked through the death of her husband many years before. Her husband had died one week after President Kennedy was assassinated. This woman watched with admiration how well Mrs. Kennedy handled the shock and trauma of her husband's death, and when her own husband died, she made up her mind to be just as composed, calm, and brave, saying to herself, "If Jackie Kennedy can do it, so can I." She did not realize that Jackie Kennedy on national television was not Jackie Kennedy behind the scenes, sharing her heartbreak with her family and friends. So that woman's grief remained repressed because she never let herself express what she was really feeling. (1)
Have you ever known what it is to have a breaking heart? Have you ever let go and let the tears fall without regard for what others might think? Luke tells us about a woman who did just that. He tells us about a woman whose heart was breaking in two.
Now, we might not have too much sympathy for this woman. After all, she was "a woman of the city . . . a sinner." You could tell it by the way she dressed, by the way she made herself up, perhaps by her mannerisms. She was not fit company for decent folks. Her place was on the streets, not in the house of a Pharisee. Yet here she was kneeling at the feet of Jesus, weeping, and watering his feet with her tears and using her long hair to wipe them dry. Kissing his feet and anointing them with ointment. Altogether it was quite a pathetic display of emotion. Good people don't get carried away like that, do they?
If Jesus really were a prophet, thought the Pharisee who was playing host to him that day, he would realize what kind of woman this was, and he wouldn't even allow her to come near him much less let her kiss his feet. But Jesus made no effort to stop the woman ” even though he knew his host disapproved. What's going on here? Why is Jesus allowing this quite spectacular show of remorse and affection?
"YOU ARE ANXIOUS
PERHAPS, FIRST OF ALL, IT'S BECAUSE ONLY JESUS COULD SEE THIS WOMAN'S HEART. Only he knew what she was really feeling. Only he knew what had brought her to this place.
In his book, HEALING FOR DAMAGED EMOTIONS, David Seamonds deals with people who have scars that nobody else can see. He uses the analogy of those beautiful giant sequoia and redwood trees in the far western part of our country: "In most of the parks," says Seamonds, "the naturalists can show you a cross section of a great tree they have cut, and point out that the rings of the tree reveal the developmental history, year by year. Here's a ring that represents a year when there was a terrible drought. Here are a couple of rings from years when there was too much rain. Here's where the tree was struck by lightning. Here are some normal years of growth. This ring shows a forest fire that almost destroyed the tree. Here's another of savage blight and disease. All of this lies embedded in the heart of the tree, representing the autobiography of its growth.
"And that's the way it is with us," Seamonds continues. "Just a few minutes beneath the protective bark, the concealing, protective mask, are the recorded rings of our lives.
"There are scars of ancient, painful hurts . . . as when a little boy rushed downstairs one Christmas dawn and discovered in his Christmas stocking a dirty old rock, put there to punish him for some trivial boyhood naughtiness. This scar has eaten away in him, causing all kinds of interpersonal difficulties.
"Here is the discoloration of a tragic stain that muddied all of life . . . as years ago behind the barn, or in the haystack, or out in the woods, a big brother took a little sister and introduced her into the mysteries ” no, the miseries of sex.
"And here we see the pressure of a painful, repressed memory . . . of running after an alcoholic father who was about to kill the mother, and then of rushing for the butcher knife. Such scars have been buried in pain for so long that they are causing hurt and rage that are inexplicable. And these scars are not touched by conversion and sanctifying grace, or by the ordinary benefits of prayer.
"In the rings of our thoughts and emotions, the record is there; the memories are recorded, and all are alive. And they directly and deeply affect our concepts, our feelings, our relationships. They affect the way we look at life and God, at others and ourselves." (2)
If we could look into the heart of this woman, we might not be so harsh in our judgement of her. What brought her to such a wretched position in life? Was she abused as a child? Research studies show that many "women of the city" even to this day were abused as children. They never had an opportunity to develop a wholesome sexuality because of crimes that were committed against them before they were really old enough to understand. Was that this woman's situation?
Perhaps. Was she estranged from her family? Probably. Was she in great emotional pain because of her life of sin? Undoubtedly. Maybe that is the first reason that Jesus makes no effort to stop her. Only he can see her heart.
But there may be another reason. ONLY JESUS COULD SEE GOD'S HEART.
There are many Christians who still have an Old Testament view of God. God is a God of judgement, of vengeance, of wrath. As far as these Christians are concerned, Jesus need not ever have come. For they will not listen to him, they will not heed his example of love and grace and acceptance.
Maxie Dunnam tells a powerful story that comes from a novel by Alan Paton, the great South African writer. In this story which takes place before the recent changes in South Africa, a white police lieutenant has secretly carried on an affair with a black African woman. In South Africa that was against the law in every way. Not only was it against the civil law, but in that stern, racist society, it was an abominable sin, an unforgivable sin.
The lieutenant is confronted with the charge by his captain. The lieutenant denies the charge, but the evidence is so overwhelming that he finally confesses. The captain does what might appear to be a strange thing. He goes to visit the lieutenant's father and shares with him his son's transgression. It is a moving and tragic scene.
The father asks the captain, "Is it true?"
The captain replies, "I fear it is true."
The father insists, "Are you sure?"
The captain says, "He confessed to me. It's true."
Then there was silence except for the sound of the father's deep breathing. It was like the breathing of some creature in agonizing pain.
In the room observing the scene are the lieutenant's mother and his aunt, the father's sister. The father turns to his sister and says, "Bring me the Book." She goes to the bookcase, pulls down the heavy family Bible, takes it to the father, and sets it before him on the table. She wonders what passage he is going to read.
But he doesn't read any passage at all. Instead he opens the front of the book where family names had been recorded for 150 years. He takes the pen and ink and crosses out the name of his son, Pieter van Vlaanderen, not once but many times as though to completely obliterate it from the page. Without any anger or despair (at least that anybody could see), without any words, he does that dramatic task. Then he turns to the captain and very calmly asks, "Is there anything more?" The captain knows that this is his cue to leave the house, and he does, offering to the mother any kind of help he might be able to afford.
But the father turns abruptly to him and says, "No one in this house will ask for help." So the captain leaves.
Then the father, still sitting at the table, turns to his sister and says, "Lock the door, and bolt it, and bring me the key. The door of our house will never open again." That's the scene. The door is closed forever. The son can never return home. (3)
For some Christians this story presents no problem. The son had sinned. Therefore, he must be punished. For these people it is as if Jesus had never told the story of the prodigal son. We can excuse the Pharisee's attitude toward this pitiable woman. He was simply reflecting the influence of the Law by which he lived. But you and I know better. In the family of God the prodigal can always come home. The door is never locked. Why? Because Jesus showed us the heart of God. With his own shed blood he showed us how much God cares about sinners. Only Jesus could see this woman's heart. Only Jesus could see God's heart. And one thing more: ONLY JESUS CAN FORGIVE SINS.
Before the Reformation Martin Luther was in his monk's cell weeping because of his sins. His confessor, a young man, simply didn't know what to do, so he began repeating the Apostles' Creed.
"I believe in God the Father Almighty, Maker of heaven and earth; And in Jesus Christ His only Son our Lord; who was conceived by the Holy Ghost, born of the Virgin Mary, suffered under Pontius Pilate, was crucified, dead, and buried; He descended into hell; the third day He rose again from the dead; He ascended into heaven, and sitteth on the right hand of God the Father Almighty; From thence He shall come to judge the quick and the dead.
"I believe in the Holy Ghost; the holy Catholic Church; the communion of Saints; the forgiveness of sins; the . . . ."
"Wait!" Luther interrupted his confessor. "What did you say?"
"What do you mean, what did I say?"
"That last part. What was it again?"
"Oh, that. I said, I believe in the forgiveness of sins.' "
"The forgiveness of sins," Luther said as if savoring each word. "The forgiveness of sins. Then there is hope for me somewhere. Then maybe there is a way to God." (4)
There is a way to God. Jesus Christ died to provide that way. We may not be a woman of the city but there are sins that break our hearts as well. And there is One who sees those broken hearts and cares, and forgives, and heals, and makes whole.
Robert Falconer was once witnessing among the destitute people in a certain city. He read to them the story of the woman who wiped Jesus' feet with her tears. While he was reading he heard a loud sob and looked up at a young, thin girl whose face was disfigured by smallpox. After he spoke a few words of encouragement to her, she said, "Will He ever come again, the One who forgave the woman? I have heard that He will come again. Will it be soon?" Falconer replied that it would be soon. After sobbing again uncontrollably, she said, "Sir, can't He wait a little while? My hair ain't long enough yet to wipe His feet." (5)
This story of the woman with the broken heart strikes an universal chord. We all want to believe that someone understands how we got to this point in our life. We all want to believe that there is a merciful God whose nature and name is Love. We all want to believe our sins can be forgiven. Only Jesus can give us that assurance. He will give us that assurance if we will open ourselves to him today.
1. Edward Paul Cohn, "Go Ahead and Grow," cited in BEST SERMONS, ed. James W. Cox (San Francisco: Harper & Row, 1988), p. 381.
2. Victor Books, pages 11-12.
3. (Paraphrased. Paton, pp. 249-251). THE WORKBOOK ON COPING AS CHRISTIANS (Nashville: The Upper Room, 1988).
4. THE HYMNBOOK (Philadelphia: John Ribble, 1950), p. 12.
5. Stephen Brown, WHEN BEING GOOD ISN'T GOOD ENOUGH, (Nashville: Thomas Nelson Publishers, 1990).